A/N- Okay. I have a lot of explaining to do for the very limited amount of readers looking for more with this story. I, with most of the things I write, wrote this with a wonderful spark of inspiration which I didn't know how to follow up. When I formulated the storyline(still formulating, gosh I'm slow) I realized it didn't line up with the prologue I wrote. for the last few months I've been thinking about rewriting this, and I finally have. It works better, and now i might try to keep up with updates.
So genuinely sorry for my laziness and procrastination,
Silence. It's not so terrible. It keeps you from saying things you shouldn't. Things you would regret. The things that lead to mistakes, to losing the people you Iove...and one of it made a difference. In a way, I'm happy I can't speak. it gives me a way to escape my troubles, the worId's troubles...You can't do anything about it, can you? Might as well just focus on your work. forget about what happened in the first place. Isn't going to do anything productive. There won't be any revenge if you can't talk. Yet, I can't bring myself to regret the things we said, the things we did, or even, the people we hurt. It was necessary. My "perfect" little lifestyle outlived its welcome. If only...
As I slip the towels down the disposal, I take another glance at the girl. The District Twelve tribute. When we first locked eyes, something registered in both of us. She could have saved me. Saved us. But I had known by the terrified expression on her face that if she could have she would. Besides, it was so long ago that it would be silly to be vengeful. Especially knowing what she's about to go through.
Thinking about her ordeal makes me ponder over my past, which I have longed to forget. The anguish, the pain, the death. I shudder, and take a deep breath. My eyes drift back to the sleeping girl. I suddenly wanted to have my tongue back, to tell her. Tell her to run.
Run from the Hunger Games, run from Panem. Because these Hunger Games, they're not just a friendly round of shoots and ladders. It's a matter of life or death… A nightmare. A horrifying, bloodcurdling nightmare.
And frankly, I'm not sure if we're ever going to wake up.