they ask 'do you love her to death?'
i said, 'speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life'
Laurel was never meant to be in the games,
all she wanted was to keep her sister safe.
the only way she could do that was to die.
...
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The Killing Moon || Nouvelle Vauge
The dust that had settled near her doorway blows up into the air with the force of her slamming door and with each echo of Treech's footsteps stomping down her stairs, Laurel curls deeper into her sheets, wishing they could swallow her. The speckles of dirt swirl arounds her head in a nauseating whirlwind before they crash into her.
'You didn't seem to have any qualms about it in the arena.' Laurel regretted the accusation as soon as it slipped from her lips; hadn't they been fine yesterday? What was it that Treech had said to drag something so ugly from her?
Something dribbles down her cheek, maybe a tear, but with all the stickiness of her sweat, Laurel can't tell. Her room is suffocating, filled with a stench that can only be described as illness, the kind that looms and makes you wonder if your really though the worst of it.
Laurel had always been the one to keep her and Calla's room tidy. The one who swept the floor and made sure the windows were open to let the soft sent of pine drift in from the forest. It's been sealed shut since she came home.
Her fingers tremble as they reach up to wipe away the dampness against her cheek and the solidness of it still shocks her. In the Capitol Laurel had thought that she wanted to die, that it was right and stead fast in her future, that was until she met Treech.
He's right, she knows she should be happy. She should be making use of her newly gifted life and enjoying all the things she used to take for granted. She should go out into the forest and gulp down the fresh air, she should ride her bike to work as a fast as she can and take every spare moment to feel the soft silks and cottons of the fabrics that surround her, she should stomp her way over to Treech's house and demand he takes her out on the date he had promised.
Laurel should do all of it, right now. But the nagging feeling that she's destroyed all of the beautiful pieces of her life by going away overwhelms her. Her job at the fabric store has probably been replaced already by another girl, Treech just stormed out of her home in a fit of rage and the forest is haunted by her grave.
The thought crosses her mind that maybe she's just weak. It's easier to sit here and continue to crumble to dust than it would be to face the world.
By the time Laurel lulls herself to sleep the pillow bellow her head is damp and the dusting around her has settled again.
*** By the time she wakes again, there's no light ducking in through her curtains. The air is heavy and a yellow glow flickers through the cracks in Laurels doorway, followed by a soft melody.
"Fate..." Laurel can hear the soft pattering of a hand each of the railings leading up the stairwell of her home, the voice accompanying it is unmistakably Calla's, "...through the thick and thin."
She doesn't know the words very well, filling the space left by the missing lyrics with out of tune humming, "He will wait until..."
"... give yourself to him."
Laurel recognises the butchered melody, it was a song they used to sing when they were little. Usually only when they were playing in the forest.
The two girls and a few of Calla's new friends from school would dart through the forest, singing in unity. The trickling for creeks and the rustle of branches ambient in the background.
Being the oldest there, the role of hunter usually fell on Laurel. The rules had dictated nobody was allowed to fall silent, it would make it to hard to find them in the vastness of the forest.
"Under blue moon I saw you..."
It seems a sick thing to sing about now, hunting one another down. Huddling behind trees to avoid what they had dubbed 'killing time'.
"...take me... up in your arms"
Laurel remembers how they had screamed with joyful fear every time she would dart closer to the sound of their voices. Though the sound the rings through her foggy recollection is decidedly more terrified.
"...too late to beg you or cancel... thought I know it must be."
The memory quickly becomes too much to bear, another reminder of her ruined past and without the order being made by her body Laurel stands. Her weak legs struggle to drag her along.
"The killing time... unwillingly mine."Calla freezes mid twirl, her song trailing into a mumble at the slam of Laurels door.
There's a moment of silence, both girls chests heaving. Laurels from the effort or reaching her spot and the overwhelming flurry of emotions surrounding her, and Calla from what looks like a tinge of fear.
"Don't sing that any more." Laurel pleads rawly, "it's a terrible song."
Calla shuffles in her spot, toeing at the edge of the floorboards bellow her awkwardly. Then a small smile cracks at the edge of her mouth, "I've never been any good at remembering the lyrics anyways."
