i'll survive

“Murphy’s easier to say.” Malia frowned at him, wondering what the deal was. “But it depends what you did. So, what was it?”

“You’re right. I prefer that one anyway.” Murphy sighed, joining her at the table. “Depends on whose perspective you want. I shot someone. Someone who apparently shouldn’t have been shot. She’s fine, by the way. Basically. So, if it’s Alma Coin’s story you want, well then, I was protecting the very core of this nation. If it's the Rebel’s, then I’m Satan incarnated, reborn to hurt the innocent and take everything I want for myself.” He shrugged, acting like it didn’t get to him. “A little dramatic for my tastes, but what can you do?”

It surprised her that the conversation continued, especially with both of them having somewhat of a bad attitude, but people shocked her every day. They would continue to do so — Malia was still learning how to be around them again. Humans were supposed to be animals, but each one was so individual and different. At least the wildlife she hung out with had been easier to understand, for them it was black and white, kill or be killed. Nothing about love or relationships. “Malia.” A brief pause. “You?”

“Murphy. John Murphy. Your lord and saviour. Traitorous cockroach. Whatever you wanna go with.”

Murphy eyed her for a moment, noticing an irritation that mirrored his own. She seemed just as defensive. “Whatever,” he finally shrugged, figuring she wanted to keep to herself, especially since she was sitting alone. No point angering the crazies.

Adjusting back to human life was becoming increasingly difficult. Malia was always frustrated, and although her speech was fine, apparently her social cues were completely off. She continued to feel cold without her fur coat, and she had no idea how to read, putting her leagues behind her school peers. If she’d known how hard it would be living like this after eight years in her wolf form, she would have told herself never to travel towards Alexandria, regardless of how thankful she was for the Crescent pack's kindness. Glancing down at a book a teacher called Clara had given her, her eyebrows pressed together, muttering to herself as she attempted to learn. “To… die will be an… aw - awfull - fully? Awfullee big --”

You're telling me Raven was ment to kiss Murphy on the cheek but they cut it...

Lydia rolled her eyes at the male’s remark. She recognised him from the Capitol, and if that hadn’t been reason enough for her to be cold with him, his response certainly was. “I haven’t lost anything. I heard something.”

“Oh, yeah? And what was it? A voice from within telling you to kill? A ghost from the other side?”

Lydia had only recently been dismissed from the hospital. Whilst her physical injuries had healed, it was her mental state she was now worried about - and although she knew better than to self diagnose, the only solution she had to explain the voices she was hearing was PTSD. “Please tell me you just heard that.”

For a moment, Murphy did genuinely listen out. But when he heard nothing, he chuckled dryly, returning to his drink. “Great. Another world saviour who’s lost their marbles. Just what we needed.”