Chapter Eight: Shawn Wilson

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A/N: This chapter is written by GryffindorGirl (GG), as will all other Shawn chapters. This chapter is basically Shawn explaining how he met Cyra, and how he loves her and blah, blah, blah. 😂

Chapter Eight:

Shawn's POV


But you didn't have to cut me off

Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing

And I don't even need your love

But you treat me like a stranger

And that feels so rough

Gotye "Somebody That I Used To Know"


Hi. My name's Shawn Chasum Wilson. I'm sixteen years old, and I'm in love with Cyra Curence Rilya Merison. She is mine... She will be mine. She was ALWAYS mine... Until that Gale guy came along.


>> Flashback

I was walking around by myself, upset about my life as usual. My parents died when I was young, and I had no one. Not even my grandfather would take me to live in the Capitol with him. I, instead, lived on the streets of District Four.

I had seen Cyra running around in her yard one cold morning. I hadn't eaten in days, and I could feel my ribs poking through the edge of my skin. That's something no four year old should never have to go through.

 She glances at me, her violet eyes wide. "Come here!" she shouts.

I glance down at the white beach sand scattered around her house as I step up to her. She smiles at me and runs inside to grab me a brightly-colored fruit.

"It's passion fruit." 

She smiles as I bit into it, the purple juices running down my chin.

"I'm Cyra," I said, sticking her pale hand out for me to shake.

"Shawn," I reply quietly.

Cyra nods her head and takes my hand. "We are going to be best friends forever, right, Shawn? Because once you share a passion fruit, you love each other forever... Just me and you."

I nodded as she reached into hug me. "Yeah... I guess we will."

And I took that promise to heart.


>> Nine years later

We were thirteen now... Cyra was running around her backyard again, just like all those years before. Her black hair was tied up, as she ran, trying to land her round off, so she could be on the cheer team. She had always told me she had no girl friends, and that I was her only friend... I can't say that I didn't know that.

I always told everyone that she was odd, and that they should stay away from her. She had said it was only going to be the two of us, and I was going to ensure that it always was.

Cyra tumbled to the ground, growling through her teeth. "I can't do it."

I laughed as I stood up from my sitting position on the grass behind her. "You're fine, just keep going."

"NO!" she shouted, throwing her hands into her hair. "I can't land it." She paused as a few tears dribbled down her face. "I can't make friends, I can't make the squad, and I can't compete with perfect Lyra."

Lyra was Cyra's perfect older sister; of course this was before the cancer came.

"You can do it, and you're perfect to me. I'll always be here." I smiled widely as Cyra came running over and laid her head in my arms.

She smiled, and reached into her pocket, pulling out a picture. It was from the yearbook this year, and it was signed by her at the bottom.

"I wanted you to have this," she said.

"Why?" I asked

She laughed. "You asked me for a picture a few weeks ago to send your Grandfather, and I also wanted to thank you for being such a great friend."

"Thanks." I smiled as I took the picture from her hand.

At the time, Cyra had not known Frost was my grandfather, or that the picture was for me, so that I could keep her with me always.

Creepy? Yes. But I never wanted to lose her, ever. Because all I've ever wanted was to love her, and for her to love me, too.


>> Present

I stood in front of a mirror in the Capitol. Cyra and I had been sent here just for the night, as the Reaping for District Four was tomorrow.

Tonight, though, we could celebrate once more.

It was our wedding night.

I breathed deeply, very proud that I had made it this far helping my grandfather take down Cyra. Yes, I still loved her. This plan didn't involve me killing her, just making her emotionally unstable for a while so that she can't start the rebellion that my grandfather is predicting she will.

"Shawn, we're going to start," a voice came through the door.

"Grandfather, I'm nervous..." I said quietly.

Frost sighed for a moment, and opened the door. "Don't be. She looks beautiful. The Capitol voted on her wedding dress, and she looks stunning." He scratched his beard for a moment and faced me. "For a rebel..."

I nodded and followed him out the doorway and out into President Frost's courtyard. Yes, I know I wanted to be married on a beach in District Four, but everything had been destroyed in the bombing a few months ago.

I walked down to the start of the courtyard, and smiled at the few guests in the audience. The wedding was being broad-casted through all of Panem. Some Capitol big wigs sat in the audience, as well as a couple of Frost's advisers... along with one very important addition: Gale Hawthorne.

Was tired to a chair, his hands tied behind his back, as he sat front row forced to watch my  happy ending, and the first chapter in his long-lasting nightmare.

As I walked past him, I kicked him in the shin, causing him to try and stand... But he couldn't.

"I'll kill you, Wilson," he growled, trying to sound intimidating, despite his tear-stained face.

I laughed as I stepped to the front of the room. "Sorry, Hawthorne. I win, and you lose. Now excuse me, my bride is coming."

The doors opened and Cyra walked down the cobblestone pathway towards me. Her hair was curly and up in a bun, purple flowers woven into it. Her dress was pure white, and ballroom style. Across the center was a sliver ribbon, tied in a bow. Her feet were... bare?

Apparently, Frost noticed this at the same time, as he rose in anger. "Where are your shoes?" he demanded sharply, still trying to keep a forced smile on his face.

Cyra glared at him, her eyes glazed over with tears. "Let me have one choice on my wedding day. Clearly nothing else is."

I curled my fingers into fists, as she kept walking forward toward me, not looking happy in the slightest.

This wasn't how I dreamed it. Nothing like it at all.

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