✓ | Iron ↠ The Hunger Games

eight ━ sharp objects

CHAPTER EIGHT;
sharp objects

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( warning: depictions of drug abuse, addiction )

     It takes at least ten minutes of relentless persuasion, but much to Vesper's joy, Hermia finally gives in and releases her for the evening walk she's been desperate to take for days. There are, however, a strict set of conditions that follow with it — do not leave the perimeters (if only...), do not stay out for more than half an hour, and do not provoke any of the crowds.

     Some of the other advice seems standard, but the crowds... that's something rather new. "What is it," Vesper had joked, "feeding time at the zoo?" — Hermia hadn't found that funny.

     Turns out you can't please everyone.

     Back home, Vesper would take a walk every evening where she could, and on the same route. Stray too far and there could be trouble. Vagary was no place to be wandering around at night, especially if you weren't from around there. Being street smart is simply common sense to anyone who's lived there. She owes her nighttime alertness to her father's advice — when they first moved from the quiet, barren lands near the tracks to the polluted metropolis, it had all felt so foreign to the curious eight year-old. Her father was completely calm, but alert, as he told her what has stuck in her mind ever since:

     Don't walk where the streetlights don't shine. Don't look people in the eye. And most importantly, do not look scared.

     She wasn't allowed to drift out of his sight. "But if you do, hold on to me and don't let go." And when she would latch onto the strap of his satchel, he would add, "No, Vesper, I need to feel you. I need to know you are there." So she would grab the end of his shirt, ball it into her fist so tight her knuckles would whiten sometimes, and she would feel safer than ever knowing that she couldn't let go.

     But this is not Vagary. This is the Capitol.

     And Vesper can't quite figure out whether it's safer or worse than back home. It's certainly more well-lit, as once she gets past the Peacekeepers that guard the doors with unwavering discipline, she can still see the dark hue of her cedar brown ankle boots when she steps out of the building. The breeze is lighter than a feathery caress of her skin, barely rustling her hair as she shoves her hands into her pockets and starts her first lap — strictly no further than a few laps within the premises, as instructed.

     The city still bursts at the seams with painful primary colours and the bustle of life amongst the Capitol crowds. Sure, District Six might work far into the night, but she wouldn't go as far to call it "alive". Vesper can recall numerous occasions where she's spotted workers, both familiar and strangers, giving up on the commute and falling asleep on the train, a bench or simply the cold sidewalk if none of the others are free. But here... it seems the party is only just getting started. Flashes of superficial white teeth gleam from across the road, shrewd cackles and laughs piercing her ears, as they point and jab towards the giant building where, upon one of those floors, Vesper is staying.

     After her first couple of laps, as the shadows begin to shrink and the streetlights illuminate her figure, Vesper feels a pair of eyes lock onto her. Following the invasive feeling she suddenly experiences in her gut, she meets the lime green eyelashes being batted her way with a set of all-too straightened teeth curling into a Cheshire Cat smile. "Oh, goodie goodie, I've found one of them!" she squawks, ushering some more friends over, "Over here, look! Look!"