Writer Games: Amnesia

Semifinals - Music to My Ears - Violiss Ophele

When the fire burned out, it took her three hours to muster up the courage to start one again, despite the chilling temperatures that filled the hallway in a fire's absence. The poisoned present of a memory the Gamemakers had given back to her played again near every time she blinked.

Violiss leaned against the wall. Somehow, it maintained a cool sensation no matter how the hallway temperature changed. It was constant. Between Violiss's ever shifting store of memories, the ever dwindling number of tributes, and the ever changing arena, the cool wall was the only constant.

She looked up at the ceiling. One of the hanging lights flickered. Had this place ever been a real hospital, or had death always been its only attraction? The flickering light swung gently from side to side.

Violiss snorted. She didn't belong here underneath dying lights. She belonged in a real hospital, bringing new life into the world. She didn't belong in a fool's farce of a place, her own life her life dependent on a few children's ability to simultaneously end theirs.

Her lips twisted. Fate, she thought, had a mean sense of humor.

It was a sense of humor she could only now appreciate. For the previous who-knew-how-many days, she hadn't understood how truly ironic fighting to the death in a hospital was for her. How often had she dreamed of working in the hospital one day, being paid to do what she loved? Before, she couldn't have said. Now she knew it was too many times.

Her gaze drifted back to her fire. Her eyes widened. Violiss's hand tightened into a fist. She slapped it against her flat palm, all the while she suppressed the curse words. While she had been thinking, her fire had faded to a collection of dying sparks.

She didn't have the will to revive it. She had spent too long in this area anyway. Had it been one day, or two? She wasn't sure.

Violiss stood up. Her knees ached at the movement. Yes, she thought, it was time to move on. She had to exercise her muscles. She slipped her backpack over her shoulder and lifted her scythe. Her fingers tightened around the long weapon. She didn't have to think to hold it properly anymore. That should have been a good thing, but the thought only made Violiss sigh to herself.

She wandered down the long hallway. She hesitated when she reached the corner, ears listening for any sound of life. Inexplicably, she was reminded of her father telling her to look both ways before she crossed the street.

Violiss's throat dried and she rubbed her forehead with her free hand. She wished her brain hadn't conjured the memory. Every time she thought of her father, the moisture left her mouth and her head throbbed. Right now, it was impossible to know for sure if her father had been a good father, or a horrible one, and if she'd loved him or loathed him. The only memory of him she felt sure she could trust was the argument they'd had before the reaping, and seeing as he had made her feel like nothing during the course of that conversation, she preferred not to base her judgment of his character entirely on it.

The new hallway, unlike the one previous, held the doors to various rooms. Violiss darted inside the first one and shut the door.

Without the light from the hall, the room was left in darkness. Violiss grappled against the wall for a switch. She found it. The light that filled the room was nearly blinding. She had to blink a few times before her eyes adjusted enough to view her new surroundings.

She'd randomly chosen a bedroom for her new hideaway. Collapsing curtains half covered a battered bed. At least if someone caught her unawares, they could serve as some kind of weak form of defense. Better than nothing.

Violiss dumped her bag at the foot of the bed. She'd been intending to get some exercise, but that bed with its sheets seemed to call to her.

"Violiss," the pillow said, "Look how fluffy I am."

"Violiss," the mattress said, "Come feel how soft I am."

"Okay," Violiss said to herself. She curled up on the bed and placed her scythe on the floor. She closed her eyes.

For just a moment, she could believe she was back home again.

The door slammed. Violiss's eyes flew open. By instinct, one hand darted to cover her gasp while the other reached for her scythe.

Through the curtain, she saw the shadow of an archer aiming his arrow. She rolled to the side. The arrow took flight. She fell off the bed and landed on the handle of her scythe. She heard a low cracking sound.

Her heart sank. No, please no, not the scythe. That was all she had to defend herself. Without it, she had nothing against the swords and weapons the other tributes would use against her. She scrambled to the side.

The handle had split into half a dozen little pieces. The blade itself wasn't cracked, but with its handle detached entirely, Violiss's ability to use it was drastically decreased.

"Missed!" The attacker spat the word to himself.

Violiss's head whipped up. For the first time, she recognized her attacker as Nobody Westing. If possible, her heart sank even more. The boy from Eight could take her down with just one single blow.

Think, Violiss, think. There had to be something she could do...

"Allies?" Violiss asked, her voice weaker than she would have liked.

He wrinkled his nose to show what he thought of such an arrangement. "Why would I ally with someone so weak and pathetic?"

Violiss had a flash to training. She remembered the Nobody she'd seen then, and how much better a person he'd been than the one she saw now. The look in his eyes was almost as feral as his unkempt hair.

There was no question of the source of his change. She had an insight of understanding. The Capitol's games had made him cold. They had killed something inside him, and now he took it out by trying to kill others.

Pathetic. That was what he had called her. I'm not pathetic, Violiss thought, you are.

He fired another arrow. Violiss only had to duck her head to dodge it. The arrow struck a framed picture, which promptly fell to the ground and shattered. Better that than her bones.

Violiss gripped the detached blade of her scythe in hands as best she could. "Nobody," she said in a voice as placating as she could make it, "You're tired. I'm tired. Let's both just part ways. No blood has to be shed."

"You're wrong." Nobody's voice cracked. "If we don't shed blood, we die."

Something about his voice reminded Violiss of delivering babies. Even though Nobody was clearly not a baby, his voice struck her as similar to that of a shrieking newborn. The analogy was ridiculous, but in a way, it made sense. Whoever won the Games would be reborn in their victory to a new life.

She had an image of Nobody sitting at a bar, wasting his life away on drink to waste away the memories. She blinked, and Solar took Nobody's place. Another blink, and it was Dandy. A final blink, and it was Jolene.

Violiss slowly stood up. Was that what awaited the survivor? A life of bars and beer, of opinions and thoughts no one cared to listen to. If that was the only life that was available to her, then maybe it was better if she died here and now.

No. No. Violiss wouldn't be like that. She'd make it out of that arena alive, and she wouldn't destroy herself doing it. She'd win, and make her victory worth it.

"You don't have to kill me," Violiss said honestly. "I'll make everything all right." She stepped closer.

He didn't understand what she meant by that. He blinked. "How?"

Nobody no longer seemed to remember that he had a bow and arrows in his hands. Violiss was careful not to look at them, lest Nobody remembered how to use them. She put her hands on Nobody's shoulders.

He looked into her eyes. Violiss didn't see the eyes of a teenage boy ready to kill. She saw the eyes of a frightened baby.

She held his gaze as her blade plunged into his neck. The cannon fired instantly. She let go of her blade. The body crumbled to the ground.

I meant what I said about allies, she thought. If only he hadn't been so mean.