Writers Games; Alliances

D5 Male - Lumen Wye - Task 3 [SoupForBrains]

    I’d just about survived the unusual bloodbath. So far my allies hadn’t tried to kill me, and so far I had seemed to have been playing off my loyalty card convincingly enough that my ‘friends’ still trusted me enough to share their company, food, campsite and stories with me. So far the odds were in my favour. I didn’t get cocky and optimistic just yet though; I knew very well that my lucky streak could peter out at any moment.
  “Okay, okay. Ice Breaker Game time!” Miles announced, finishing off his meal consisting of mango, some sort of pheasant-like foul and its eggs.  “First game… give us all a short account of your life. ”

I said nothing. I didn’t want to play this immature, close-to-the-bone game. I didn’t want to share myself with these people, with all the people watching these Hunger Games on their TV sets, and I intended on lying for all these ridiculous questions.

“My names Lumen Wye, I’m from D5 and I’m an alcoholic.” I said, getting a few giggles from Mira and Seaver. I plastered on the grins for them all, pretending to be having fun. “No, seriously, I’m extremely boring. I have three elder sisters and two mums and a dad. It was kind of a shock for my dad. Apart from that, there’s nothing more to know really…”

It was all complete rubbish, a simple off-the-top-of-my-head sort of story/lie, yet they all soaked it up it like a crate of sponges let loose in the ocean or something, not questioning a word I said. But then again, why would they? These people before me obviously didn’t see me as a threat. They hadn’t done their research on me, because they didn’t feel the need to. They saw me as easy kill. They just hadn’t got bored of me just yet to pick me off yet.

  I listened to their short summaries of their either equally dull or blatantly elaborated lives with as much as conviction and apparent intrigue I could muster up, though I barely absorbed an entire sentence between all of them. I’d passed this game, but Miles wasn’t done snooping in all of our business’ just yet.

“Next up, Snog, Marry, Avoid!” Miles declared, chugging water from his bottle. The heat was sucking the life out of everyone. Sweat dribbled down his brow.

“Seems kind of intrusive for an Ice Breaker Game, doesn’t it, Miles?” Tobias commented sheepishly, his eyes subconsciously flicking towards Mira.

“Pussy! Well, I bet Lumen will play, right?” Miles said with a smirk, blatantly mocking me, though why I wasn’t sure. Did he know more about me than I thought? Did he know about Burd? My forehead crinkled up in both intrigue and suspicion.

“Urgh, I think I’ll pass actually, Miles. I’m, like, kind of tired.” I said with a yawn, setting off Tobias and Seaver. I was actually the only one that set up to sleep under our bivouac crafted from sticks and thick mud that had now dried as hard as plaster, entrapping the waxy leaves we’d mixed in with the soaking earth to give our little home some sense of waterproofing.

  As I lay among the rotting, soggy vegetation, I thought about Burd. I was glad she wasn’t here in the Games, but at the same time I selfishly wanted her here with me. I just wanted home. Normality. Seeing all these kids die around me, sure, it was depressing and distressing, but the ache in my heart was worse.  I took out my token; a locket containing a wisp of Burd’s hair suspended from my mother’s silver charm bracelets. The locket is the only real thing that has any sort of sentimentality attached to it for me. All the other charms, so fine that my mum must have scrimped and saved all her money to buy them , sparked no emotion in me. What did the little tree ornament mean to her, I wondered. Maybe it represented her love for the outdoors- after all, she was a geologist. Or maybe it had a metaphorical meaning to her. Did the tree represent life and growth? Did she buy this charm to commemorate me, her baby, germinating inside of her, slowly turning from a seedling to a sapling, then eventually, one day- though she’d never see it-into a fully-fledged tree? I’d never know, I guessed. Just like I’d never really known her...

I slipped the heavy bracelet onto my arm. It was snug against my skin with little room to move about but not so constricting that it caused any discomfort. It was like Burd and my parents were holding onto my wrists, reminding me they were with me. It was a fanciful, stupid idea, but it was enough to lull me to sleep.

“Good morning, Mr Wye.”

Occisora.

 That bitch from the feast.

Little Miss ‘I-am-not-the-enemy-even-though-I’ve-arranged-your-inevitable-murders’.

That bitch.

I’d awoken in a white room, in cotton-brushed pyjamas, and fed a hotel-standard breakfast of fresh fruit, creamy porridge and a glass of ice cold water. What on earth was up with the Hunger Games?

“I know, this must be very disorientating for you now, Mr Wye, but my Peacekeeper friends have bought you here for a very special reason. I think you’ll like it.” She said with that red, perfect-teeth smile. Her knowingness made me weary, but I took the offered seat anyway. She pressed a small parcel into my hands. A photo, framed with beautiful ebony and gold, swirling inlay of the three people I loved more than anything. Burd, Nickel and poor old Mrs Coulomb.

“Where did you get this? This is from my last birthday?” I asked Occisora, my voice hoarse with emotion that I hadn’t wanted to spill; I couldn’t help it though.

“I know. I got it right from Mrs Coulomb at the orphanage herself.” Occisora said proudly, sitting on the edge of a glass-topped desk. “She misses you very much, Lumen. I am almost certain you’re missing her dearly too, am I right?”

“Of course,” I replied, looking at her coldly and defensively, trying to hide my brimming tears with my anger.

“Rightly so. She’s been the closest thing you’ve ever had to a mother since your biological parents died, hasn’t she?”
I nodded, unable to speak without taking the risk of crying in front of her, of all the Capitol, of the whole of my fellow members of District 5.

“It’s been a hard ride for you so far, and as much as it pains me to say, it’s only going to get harder. The Hunger Games are never easy, especially for the love ones that tributes leave behind, unsure if they’ll ever see them again.”

Rub it in my face, why don’t you, Occisora?

“I feel for you, I really do. However, I can’t help but feel worse for poor little Burd-”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” I yelled standing and shoving the photo inside my jacket. It slipped from my hands and smashed on the floor. Silently crying now, I bent down to scoop up the shards of glass and save the photograph. I wanted it.

“It must be so hard for Burd, musn’t it? Just imagine what would happen to her fragile little mind if-”

Whipping round, I pinned Occisora to wall, a razor sharp shard of glass held high.

But maybe she had a point.

I had to think about her; what would really hurt her more? Watching me die or witnessing me kill?