lethal 。 𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔶

017 ─── darkside .

lethal
017 ─── darkside .

" every time i close my eyes it's like a dark paradise "

rowan's view

𝔚hen I was young, my nightmares were filled with fictitious things conjured by my wild imagination. I hadn't lived a long enough life for my nightmares to be about anything other than the monster that haunted the broom closet, or the ghost living in the attic. They were silly scenarios that only visited me a few times a year, scaring me enough to be grateful when they didn't return the next night.

Years passed, and the insignificant nightmares of fabricated beasts morphed into demonized memories, echoes of the past repeating my mistakes over and over again. Nightmares of when a mountain lion chased Gale and I through the woods after being attracted to the area by a rabbit in a trap I had missed. Nightmares of the funeral that came only three days after my father died, and peacekeepers lining the hall with unforgiving white shells and guns in their arms.

Nightmares had visited me every night for the last few weeks, but instead of funerals or mountain lions, they took the form of the 74th reaping, and Effie Trinket calling out my sister's name into the empty town square. I couldn't move as a firing squad marched in, and shot my sister to the ground. Scarlet red blood splattered on the grey pavement, and it took a few moments for me to realize that the ringing in my ears was actually the blood-curdling scream ripping from my throat.

My throat still felt dry, my eyes red-rimmed and puffy from tears I had never cried. My nightmares played in the back of my mind, affecting my focus in a way that I wasn't comfortable with. I ran the tip of my finger along one of my knives, the sharp edge pulling my focus back to my body.

A few feet away, Blye was crouched behind a tree trunk, her eyebrows furrowed over her focused eyes. Her gaze was zeroed in on the giant pyramid of supplies that the Careers were hoarding all to themselves, the supplies that we were planning on destroying.

I glanced down at the bright green grass underneath my feet, letting out a breath, my lungs shaking from the effort. It was a good plan, I knew that. If I was ever going to make it out of the arena, and back to my family, this plan was the way to do it. I needed to destroy others to save myself.

I would have to destroy Peeta, who was willing to offer bread to my sisters and I in the dead of winter, when starvation crawled over my skin like spiders. When my stomach was as hollow as my heart, it was Peeta who helped us.

I would have to destroy Cato, who held my life in his hands twice before, but instead of choosing to destroy me, as he had been taught, he let me go. He let me live. Maybe those choices would destroy him. Maybe the choice to let me continue living would be the same choice that killed him.

I winced, glancing back up at the pyramid of food, weapons and medications, piled so high that it nearly blocked out the light of the sun. The greed it represented made my stomach turn, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, making my hands shake at my sides.