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 WHISSIE (anglais) - try to knock on doors, but first of all, simply avoid mine

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MessageSujet: WHISSIE (anglais) - try to knock on doors, but first of all, simply avoid mine   Mer 7 Mar - 23:21


❝MAKE UP YOUR MIND TO BE FREE AT LAST. MAKE UP YOUR MIND TO BE TRULY ALIVE. EMBRACE WHAT'S INSIDE THE PLACE THAT HAS DIED. AND MAKE UP YOUR MIND TO SURVIVE. CATCH ME I'M FALLINGnext to normal



If Whiskey had to choose between night and day, she would pick the first option. Dark sky, stars and the white moon. The lights coming from the houses, illuminating the streets which have been deserted a few hours ago. The silence in the district, the feeling of loneliness. During the night, when everybody is sleeping, you don’t have this awful feeling of being abandoned. Because everything around you is quiet. But during the day, when children are laughing, and the adults talking, lovers kissing, you feel so lonely that all you want to do is cry. Cry until your whole body remains dry, and die. Because it’s all that’s left. The only thing you can do, in the right way. But somewhere, deep down, inside you, you don’t want to write the final sentence to your life, and you fight so hard to stay alive. It doesn’t matter if this fight drives you crazy, because crazy is better than dead. So, between day and night, let’s pick night. Day brings all this despair. Day brings death, loneliness, and tears.

Before the reaping that changed her life, she would’ve chosen day. Running in the fields, with her young brother, looking to the sky, she used to love that kind of things. She liked people, human beings. And human beings disappointed her, they left her with no one on her side. Only crazy parents who chose safety over their son, and later, safety over their own daughter. Sometimes, she used to wonder where they are now. Did they forget her ? Have they been arrested after she escaped, because the government thought they were a part of the rebellion too ? And often, she told herself that they could have been responsible of her own captivity. Her parents always approved the Capitol methods, and even after their son’s death during the 70th Hunger Games, they went on thinking the same way. They were so scared, and at the same time, they never wanted a rebellion. They loved their life, and the Capitol. They had nothing against Snow. Seeing their own daughter turning against them, against what they always believed, it musts have been a shock. There was so much distance between Whiskey and her parents at this time of her life that they just decided to give her up to the Peacekeepers. Nobody ever confirmed this version, but this is what Whiskey actually thinks happened.

The simple question : Night or day ? This is the kind of question which became useless in district thirteen. Everybody is kept underground, stuck in a box. It’s like you’re running out of air at every single moment of your life. Or what’s meant to be a life. Whiskey considered herself as lucky, because she had a goal. She had something to fight for, something she wanted to reach, no matter what she had to lose during the trip. But she knew that some people, in thirteen, had to stay there, waiting for… for what ? Peace ? End of Capitol and death of Snow ? Their own death ? She couldn’t imagine living here without this obsession of revenge. This unsafe, unhealthy and scary obsession, she often tries to bury, but it is so strong. William died because of Snow. Ethan died because of Snow. All these kids died because of the monster who rules this country. How many friends did she lose in this crusade ? A lot. Dead, missing, captured, executed.

All these interrogations were constantly going trough her mind. Obsessed by the obsession itself. Whiskey was driving herself mad, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Condemned to live with it and to go crazier, day after day. And this day of March was not different from her unbearable routine. She woke up early, had a shower, put on the dark clothes the district gave her when she arrived. She ate what they gave her for breakfast, and started to walk through the district. She was beginning to know each corridor perfectly, but she didn’t care. When her schedule indicated training, she went to the appropriate room and trained. Because that’s what she does best. Training, to forget that Ethan, the man she loved, the one she wanted by her side for the rest of her life, the one she was supposed to marry, is gone. Tortured and killed right in front of her by a monster that was created by the Capitol. Training was the best therapy. Train, train, train. Always. Get better, to get a better revenge. To make them bleed for what they’ve done. After training, she decided to go back to her quarters. A little room in which she could feel quite good actually. It was her home, and living alone was the best she could have. She used to be surrounded by friends, family, back in district two, when she was still an innocent and defenceless little girl. She couldn’t stand being left alone, even for a few minutes. How did she come to that ? Doing everything she could to stay alone, and to push people away from her intimacy ?

It was really dark in the corridors. Whiskey grabbed the keys in her pocket. The smaller silver one opened the lock to enter her room. She went in and closed the door quietly behind her. The brown headed girl turned on the small lamp, but her heart skipped a beat. In the red light, she could see his shadow dancing on the wall. It didn’t take long for her to recognize him. Jessie Chase was there. « Oh my g… What the hell are you doing here ? » Her right hand, still holding the keys, went up to her forehead under the effect of surprise. Her voice didn’t even show anger, only tiredness. « How did you even get in here ? » She frowned. It didn’t make sense, but she was so tired she couldn't activate her brain. Whiskey took a deep breath and put her keys in a cup, next to the door. « What do you want ? » she asked in a whisper, starring at him, with exasperation.

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MessageSujet: Re: WHISSIE (anglais) - try to knock on doors, but first of all, simply avoid mine   Dim 11 Mar - 22:02


❝ AND MY EYES ARE CLINGING TO YOUR LIPS WHEN I'VE GOT NOTHING MORE. LIFE IS A BITCH UNTIL YOU DIE. HELP ME, I'M HAVING TROUBLE SLEEPING.

Jessie Chase used to be a good guy. Like the guy you want to wake up with every morning, the boy you want to marry when you’re old, or even the boy you want to be friend with. He used to be all that, a simple guy without any distinction. But… you know, living in Panem, and all that, it leaves scars. You can’t be a simple guy without any trouble in these really hard times. No matter who you are, from the Capitole or from the poorest district, you’ll be mad. If he had to choose between day and night, he would probably have taken the day. Because, even if he was broken, he still had hope. Hope that one day, he could rest in peace, he could take his revenge and just leave his fucking life. Night, is when you’ve got trouble sleeping, when nightmares are coming up, and when you just can’t think about anything but your misery. Jessie was having a night like this. He couldn’t breathe; all his memories came into the surface. Memories he had tried to bury for too long. I’m still at the hunger games… am I going to die again? Why did she kill me? I… I don’t want to live this again. Please, make in stop, PLEASE! All his body was on fire. Chills roamed his naked body so he clung to the old sheets strongly. He hated his room, his life, his past. He hated those damn gray sheets, gray and gray all over. I promised myself I would never been scared again…

He tried to sleep, but was unable to hunt his old demons. So he decided to… do something. He didn’t really know what he could do, but one thing was sure; he couldn’t stay in this cold and sad room. He put a shirt on his back, and the old regulatory pants they had given him on his arrival. He was angry. Angry that all this shit ever happened to him. Why could not he just be dead? Zoe killed him, end of story. But nooo, of course, amazing inhabitants of district thirteen found a way to bring dead tributes back to life, under the pretext that they were rebels, or they didn’t deserve to dead. But Jessie was a career. He didn’t care about this war; he just wanted to be happy in his poor, really poor district, with the girl he loved. He was a career. He loved Zoe. Zoe killed him. Because he was a career. SO WHY THE HELL DID THEY BRING HIM BACK? He deserved to die, he was a career. A career, JESUS! Your dad was an important part of that rebellion, Soldier Chase, that’s why you’re here. Jessie could remember every president Coin’s word when he woke up after the games. So, that’s it. He couldn’t sleep. But he doesn’t know what to do instead.

He tried to remember everything that happened to him since he was in D13. That was the only way for him not to forget. Try. Try to remember. First, he had become completely insane. He wandered through the corridors like a zombie, and this period lasted about five weeks. Five weeks when he was nothing, nothing but a corpse. Then, morphine helped. He began to feel something, especially hatred, envy and revenge. He wasn’t angry anymore. He met a girl, Freya. They both helped each other, and Jessie needed her to feel again. Not love, because he couldn’t love anyone else after Zoe, but he needed her to feel happiness. He was happy in her arms, and that's all that mattered.

Then, he discovered that other dead tributes were finally alive. He found Eglenver, Kathleen, Catalina ... but damn, where were the others? Where was Zoe? Only worth living if she is here.

It was only yesterday evening, that he learned she was alive too. Zoe. His Zoe. He found her on a corridor. While he was looking for her for three months; she finally appeared in the middle of nowhere. He almost killed her, and just the fact of thinking about it gave him chills. He blocked his brain and made as if none of this had happened. He did not want to think again, and deep inside, he was trying to convince himself that it was just another stupid dream. He searched in the room the rest of morphine he had. He took it, and felt instantly better. He opened his door, and started walking. His feet were leading him nowhere. He just thought about Whiskey, a girl he met about two weeks ago. She was as disturbed as he was, and maybe she could not sleep either. He remembered which door was hers, because he already has been there many times.

The door wasn’t closed, so he just push it. Well…Whiskey wasn’t there. He sat on his bed, until she arrives. It should not be long. He counted on his head… one… two… three…. He counted to twenty-six when someone opened the door. « Oh my g… What the hell are you doing here? » Perfect. That’s the effect he wanted. « SURPRIIIISEE » This boy was so unpredictable. One second he was mad, sad, depressed, and the other one, happy, and about to jump everywhere. Whiskey didn’t seem well. « Oh come on Babe, I know you missed me. Stop pretending you’re not happy to see me, yuh ! », he almost cried. Whiskey moved her head and whispered; « How did you even get in here ? » A smile appeared on jessie’s face. « Well... I used the door like everybody. » He had this talent to seem stupid all the time. « What do you want ? »I want someone to comfort me, because I’m probable the saddest man ever. But of course, he didn't say that. « Just... uh.. talk, or .. not talk if you don't want to. But, I couldn't sleep, and I just thought that maybe, you couldn't either. I know you too are, you know ... kinda insane...So I bought some cookies, if you want some. » Those cookies were delicious. But, she shouldn’t even ask him how he got that, he just stole it.


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MessageSujet: Re: WHISSIE (anglais) - try to knock on doors, but first of all, simply avoid mine   Jeu 15 Mar - 21:15


❝MAKE UP YOUR MIND TO BE FREE AT LAST. MAKE UP YOUR MIND TO BE TRULY ALIVE. EMBRACE WHAT'S INSIDE THE PLACE THAT HAS DIED. AND MAKE UP YOUR MIND TO SURVIVE. CATCH ME I'M FALLINGnext to normal



Since the day Ethan died, Whiskey was stuck in this state of mind. She was not dead, actually, she could clearly walk, touch other people, speak. She wondered for a few hours, after the awakening in the hospital, about her death. She thought she really died, for real, at the moment she hit the ground, after the escape. She didn’t think she would make it to district thirteen, but she did. And when she opened her eyes, she thought that this was heaven, that Ethan would come to her a few seconds later. But he didn’t. She panicked, she thought that this strange room was part of the Capitol. She thought that they had picked her, again. Back in their hands. But they didn’t. She began to breathe again, and didn’t stop since. But there was a difference between being able to breathe and being alive. She had a big hole inside her chest. She was constantly feeling sick, oppressed. And the only thing on her mind was that there was no way out, no escape. Not this time. She was an optimistic person, she had always been one. She could try to see things with a realistic eye, but it was impossible. No matter how bad the situation was, she always thought she could get out, one way or another. It was childish, but it was also healthy.

The state of mind she was in made her life a lot more difficult. She always tried not to think about Ethan. Even when he was out of her mind, the physical things she couldn’t throw away were still biting her skin. Unconsciously, he would never leave. It was so hard for her to admit it. Admit that she would feel that awful for the rest of her life. She decided not to admit it, just to forget it, and act as if everything was okay. The problem was that a lot of people in thirteen were in a similar case. Lots of them were shocked, hurt –physically or mentally-. And the fact was that she couldn’t fool some of them. Crazy understands crazy.

Jessie Chase was one of these persons she didn’t want to talk to. She didn’t even know why. The fact was that he was probably as mentally deranged as she was, and it did scare her in some way. How could she get better if every single person beside her was mad ? Whiskey was so tired, and she just wanted to sleep. Sleep for a whole week. But she couldn’t, because every single time she closed her eyes, she saw the bloody face of Ethan. The knife in his neck, the blood on the floor, around the chair. She did hear the sounds of agony he made, just before the moment he passed out. When she was trying to sleep, she heard a voice in her head. Ethan was telling her it was all her fault. And he was right, because it was on her. His death, the long days of torture. It was all because of her and her stupidity.

« SURPRIIIISEE » Not. You. Come on Whiskey, find one reason, one good reason, you had to dislike Jessie Chase. None ? He was hot, he could be nice. But he was crazy, probably as crazy as she was. It was something healthy people did : entering somebody’s room during the night. And screaming “surprise” as he did. « Oh come on Babe, I know you missed me. Stop pretending you’re not happy to see me, yuh ! » Miss him ? She couldn’t say. He could be so annoying, but in the bottom of her heart, maybe there was a little place for him. She could accept him as a friend, or something like that. But he was so strange, and his mood was so changing. She couldn’t feel safe when he was around. It’s like seeing craziness knocking on your door. She gave him a sarcastic look. « Actually, you’re the one standing in my room, almost begging. You missed me. I didn’t miss you, babe » Her last word was full of sarcasm. The last person who called her “babe” was dead. Each time she heard the word, a bit of her heart literally died. She didn’t have many friends, no man to call her “babe”. The only one was Ethan. And he was dead. She lost the two men of her life : Ethan and William, her brother. And all these murders were because of the Capitol.

And then, the typical question. What did he want from her ? Was he there to ask her some favour ? She was prepared for almost anything. He was so unpredictable that the reason could be really… scary. He could be here for sex. « Just... uh.. talk, or .. not talk if you don't want to. But, I couldn't sleep, and I just thought that maybe, you couldn't either. I know you too are, you know ... kinda insane...So I bought some cookies, if you want some. » I AM NOT INSANE YOU SON OF A BITCH. That was the kind of answer she could have given. She wasn’t. No, she was picked by the Capitol, tortured by Peacekeepers, saw her boyfriend being tortured and killed. And then, she was forced to run to district thirteen. Run to a kind of fantasy, and she didn’t even know if it was real or just made up by some dreamers. She had to take all the hope she had and put it into this race. Fortunately, there was something to run for. But district thirteen was not what she wanted. She wanted freedom, she wanted to be her own commander. Whiskey didn’t want to play by other people’s rules. But she didn’t have the choice. All this couldn’t make her insane, could it ?
The word “talk” had become strange to her ears. There was the simple action that was talking to somebody about the sun shining. And there was the other word. The one that meant speaking about you, about your feelings. Whiskey didn’t like this one. But sometimes, the only thing she was wishing for was talking to someone about everything that has been stuck inside her for six months. Jessie couldn’t be this person, but… you never know. She decided not to comment about the insane stuff, because he was right. She couldn’t sleep. Sleeping was the hardest thing she had to do in her “new” life. But anyway. There he was, Jessie Chase, sitting on her bed, with this stupid look on his face and a box of cookies in the hands. Whiskey starred at him for a moment, silently. She was hesitating between getting angry and asking him to get out, or being nice, and accepting him in her room for the night. Finally, she made a few steps to the bed and sat, just newt to him, without saying anything. She took one cookie and bit. « They’re not that bad » she said. A moment of silence followed. An awkward moment, and no one knew what to say. « So. What do you want to talk about ? » She asked in a deep and low voice. It was almost a whisper, with no enthusiasm, but you could feel that in the bottom, she really wanted to talk to someone. Whiskey took another cookie, and locked her eyes on his for a long moment, waiting for an answer, or just trying to feel human contact.

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