11th Throw - [ written ]

[shenevermisses]

[There are too many nightmares. Too many nights spent thrashing herself awake. Sometimes she fully wakes Cato, sometimes she just has to assure him she's okay before he fall back asleep. She's tried to run, she's tried to just go as far as she can, she's tried to roll over and go back to sleep. She can't ignore it, she can't escape it, she can't get over it.

So, late at night or early in the morning, she opens her journal.

She's tired but wide awake. It's a kind of exhaustion, really. She doesn't know how many people will see this, but she wants to ask.]

The Malnosso are always fighting their war, right? There's always battles and killing.

Is there any way to volunteer? To join them? I want to. There has to be a way, so I want to know.

As long as I'm fighting, I don't have nightmares.

[After about two hours, she'll strike out the entire last sentence. It's too private, too personal. It was stupid to ever write it, but at least it will be gone. Some of them have seen it, but she can deny it later. Sort of.]

Comments

[written]

[shenevermisses]

Having someone watch my back doesn't do me any good.

[Thankfully, it's written. It can be a simple statement of fact. There will be no record of the bitterness in her. Because she shouldn't be bitter. He'd tried. So he hadn't been fast enough.

It was her fault for relying on that. For getting so cocky, feeling so safe.]

I look out for myself, and I expect everyone else to do the same.

[written]

[asthehawkflies]

It's what keeps you human. No point surviving if you lose that.

[Too long on your own, not trusting anyone else, it left you little more than a machine, a shell.]

You can't look out for yourself all the time.

[written]

[shenevermisses]

That's the only way to survive, not ever letting your guard down.

[written]

[asthehawkflies]

It's a nice thought. Impossible though.

There are other ways.

[written]

[shenevermisses]

Maybe for someone not from Panem.