The Fifth Annual Writer Games: The Fall

The Fall of Lucifer - Packard Bevin

Hey Ked, it's me.

They're only giving me a page to write something to you, but honestly I couldn't fit everything that I have to say on a million. I'll save the bullshit about how we're proud of you and all that for when I see you again, because I know you know that already. Repeating stuff you already know is just going to waste paper. I will say though that Three has really rallied together this year; usually as you know they're pretty quiet and divided, but with you and Ben working together this year they've all come together to support you. I haven't seen the district come together like this since before the Dark Days.

We're getting along as well as we can here, which isn't really saying a lot. Mom's doing what she always does and throwing herself into her work, but I'm sure you expected that. Della, however... She's basically shut down. She misses you something awful, but I think she feels pressured by Mom to just move on so she's just repressing it and trying to act like nothing's wrong. Mom doesn't get that this isn't like when Dad died, we're allowed to feel things. Part of me thinks Mom just doesn't feel anything anyway. I'm sure you don't miss her any, and honestly I don't blame you. It's always really just been us and Della.

We really do need you here Keddy. I know, you've told me over and over that I'm the older sibling so I need to have my shit together, but it's all kind of falling apart without you. The house, the finances, all of it. Mom's too busy with her projects like she always is, and god knows Della's in no state to try and pick up the mantle. The moment you get back you'll have a lot of work to do to whip us back into shape, and I'm sure you're looking forward to every minute of it.

You're so fucking close, and I know for a fact that you're smarter than all those airhead bastards that are in there with you. You are the most intelligent person I know and you're fantastic at making plans and figuring things out. You just need to stay true to that. Don't let those Capitol bastards manipulate you into being something you're not. I believe in you more than I've ever believed in anything,

Love you, and I can't wait for you to come home.

Hewie

(PS. Mr. Quill came to see me at work the other day, after Ben passed away. He says thank you for protecting him, and that he'll have more to say to you when you get home.)

-

I should be dead.

While the explosion didn't kill me, the fact that it didn't is a goddamn miracle if I've ever seen one. When I opened my eyes at first I didn't even realize I was hurt. My gaze shifted from an unconscious and bloody Nerida to the remains of the food I had pushed off the table, and before I even had time to process I just took everything I could and ran. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't even able to process anything that I was experiencing. All I could do was run.

It wasn't until near sunset that the adrenaline that had been fueling me wore off, and I finally took stock of my injuries. My legs were covered with minor cuts and bruises from the shrapnel, but the real damage was to the arm I had used to push the supplies off the table. The flesh was ripped apart and slashed in many different places, and I'm fairly sure at least some of the bones in my hand were broken. It was only after fully taking it in that the pain hit me, and since then it hasn't become any easier to bear.

Funnily enough, it was the same arm that Nine cut on the first day of the Games. When I gained that scar I was still so sure of myself, and even being remotely in danger made it feel like the world was ending. I don't recognize that version of myself anymore. The idea that even a mere few weeks ago I was so confident and self assured makes me want to laugh, but it's the opposite of funny. I don't feel anything, really. I've become a numb and hollow shell of a person, which actually likely makes dealing with this easier.