I hate dark, enclosed spaces. They bring back unpleasant memories of my father in the mines, consumed so thoroughly by the flames that there wasn't even a body to bury. When I'm in places like this I think of him struggling to breathe in the hot air laced with coal dust. But these are usual feelings, tempered by years of reliving them. What's new are my memories of being chased underground, dying without seeing the light of day.
This boy is also new.
Underneath the bed with him I feel as though I've trespassed on something. With his bright blue eyes and mop of sandy hair, he could be a younger Peeta. But I know that can't be true. Because I knew the old Peeta's face well, even if I didn't know his name.
Something's making a noise next to me, and because it's breathing, I know it's alive. Maybe it's a monster. Gran has a cat and cats don't breathe like that, and dogs just smile and huff like they were running for all of recess or something. But what I hear is really soft and kind of scary, because monsters are always quiet until they know that they've got you.
But the gun's scarier. I don't hear my momma's voice anymore. I don't hear anything from my parents except for my pa's boots on the wood floor. Clunk, clunk, clunk. They're getting closer and I think that he's found me or something, like he knows momma told me to hide down here, but he just sits on the bed and I don't know what to do anymore.
I turn to face the monster then, because if pa's here and the monster's a big one, I'm going to yell out anyway, keep him with the monster while I call 911 for my momma. But it's just a girl.
I want to tell her that I'm scared, but the gun shoots again.
Something about children brings out my need to protect them. I'm not sure why. Some would argue that it was a human thing, but I certainly have been capable of acts that most people would consider inhumane. Besides, human beings are despicable. Any species that sacrifices it's children in the way that we have shouldn't be allowed to exist.
I think I've stumbled onto the root of everything. Maybe I do it for Rue. But when I move forward under the bed to comfort the little boy, another shot rings out and the world tips over.
The problem with darkness is that it seems to stretch on forever. I'm falling, tumbling without friction, trying to find the boy until my back hits soil. Damp, freshly overturned soil.
This grave is all too familiar, because it's really the charred remains of 12.
I don't have the time to cry. Sometimes I make time, if I'm real upset, just pulling my covers over my head and crying even though momma says it's a bad thing to do. And that's all I want to do now, but I don't, maybe because I can't believe it. I can't believe that all of a sudden I'm standing on what looks like a grave, like those creepy places that people pass by on Halloween just 'cause they wanna be scared. I fall down and my knees scratch and there's that girl who I wanted to talk to but my throat's got something stuck in it, like gum that I've swallowed even though my momma and pa tell me not to.
My eyes feel real warm.
"He-" I haven't had enough water, so my voice sounds like granpa's right now. It's so strange, I almost want to laugh. "Help."
Comments 14
This boy is also new.
Underneath the bed with him I feel as though I've trespassed on something. With his bright blue eyes and mop of sandy hair, he could be a younger Peeta. But I know that can't be true. Because I knew the old Peeta's face well, even if I didn't know his name.
A gunshot breaks the silence.
Reply
But the gun's scarier. I don't hear my momma's voice anymore. I don't hear anything from my parents except for my pa's boots on the wood floor. Clunk, clunk, clunk. They're getting closer and I think that he's found me or something, like he knows momma told me to hide down here, but he just sits on the bed and I don't know what to do anymore.
I turn to face the monster then, because if pa's here and the monster's a big one, I'm going to yell out anyway, keep him with the monster while I call 911 for my momma. But it's just a girl.
I want to tell her that I'm scared, but the gun shoots again.
Reply
I think I've stumbled onto the root of everything. Maybe I do it for Rue. But when I move forward under the bed to comfort the little boy, another shot rings out and the world tips over.
The problem with darkness is that it seems to stretch on forever. I'm falling, tumbling without friction, trying to find the boy until my back hits soil. Damp, freshly overturned soil.
This grave is all too familiar, because it's really the charred remains of 12.
Reply
My eyes feel real warm.
"He-" I haven't had enough water, so my voice sounds like granpa's right now. It's so strange, I almost want to laugh. "Help."
Reply
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