𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗘𝗗 - Hermitcraft Hellhole. Or Tartarus. Whatever works.

And The Blood Runs Red || Angst

word count: 2892
genre: angst/tragedy
warnings: blood and minor character deaths
i feel like people are gonna come for my soul after this oneshot, also you might be able to get an update next week, as this was supposed to come out yesterday but i forgot.

he is tired. he has always been tired. he stands on his floor, the Capitol above him, directing his movements, like he is a puppet, and they are his master.

he supposes that this is true, as he has given up a long time ago. they are always cruel, as when he was chosen as the male tribute for district ten. when he had to slaughter innocents, just for freedom outside of the Games.

he remembers the train ride to the Capitol. he tries to talk to the other tribute from ten, but she only stares at him, refusing to speak to him. probably assuming that he will be dead, anyway.

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one smiles at him. they are gathered around a campfire. the first two and the second are up for defence. both tributes from three are there, and the female from eleven.

they are gathered around, casually chatting about how they will kill the others in the Games. The other male from one is most likely to win, out of sheer strength, though the other from his district will give him trouble.

he feels like he should know these tributes names, but he doesn't and he doesn't bother to learn them. giving them names seem to be more trouble than they are worth, as he will have to kill them later on.

—————————————————————

"i trusted you." one croaks at him. he had chosen the weaker one, but the clever one from district one, for his target.

one is hanging by his fingers, which he kicks out from under them, they fall. the trap is set off, the cannon barely hearable above the explosions he had placed for one's demise.

—————————————————————

the Capitol tells him that he should train the new ones from ten. he will not bother to learn their names, as ten rarely has winners, and they will be dead soon enough.

but ten has more capable winners, so they will not need him. they will not need a brute, who backstabbed his own to get victory. he is no better than district one and two.

so here he is, the Victors Village, where people can die of natural causes, living like kings after the Games, but that— this life is not for him. if he leaves, he will die because the Capitol does not like people who win who try to escape Panem. they will die.

he knows that, but he stares across at the bland walls of his house, that seems so neat and organized. he is not organized, or neat. he is a mess. he will not let the Capitol become him, he wants to go back to himself.

so he rips away the white wallpaper. he rips the cameras too, he does not like them watching him, to make sure he will not escape.

he rips the floor too, dark syrup coming out of it, like blood.

—————————————————————

three hugs him, smiling at him. three has hazel eyes and brown hair.

then he is trying to halt the bleeding of three, but he cannot. he knows that three is dying, but he still says that he will be alright, he will stop the bleeding, he will be okay.

three knows that he is dying though, and he is okay with that. he, however is not okay, he cannot lose a friend, he cannot lose him.

three tells him it will be alright, but both know that he is lying.