#ft. gemma

the summer of you

viktoria pierson & gemma cameron 

gemma walker • character profile

The cold of Arctic Adventure bowed down, shriveled, and ceased to try and compete with the ice being born in his chest. Without anything warm enough to melt it, it would spread from his brain to the tips of his toes if left unchecked. Niko was too a loyal subject and kneeled before the shivering substance. Penguins scuttled past him as he walked, peering up at the boy who towered over them. Ice broke beneath his shoe bottoms. Sushi was quiet except for when his tentacles hit a wet spot on the ground. The octopus remained distant as he’d been the entire. Niko’s breath flowed his nostrils like steam escaping from underneath a newly arrived cargo train. Unlike those same trains, he had no schedule to keep.

He continually reminded himself that someone would be watching him no matter what. That’s what she would’ve told him at least twice by now. If she hadn’t abandoned him and thrown their plan to shit. His plan. Whatever the hell that was. Not once since his essence floated above a body he swore he wasn’t in control of did he have one single clue about what to do next. If there was anyone that cared about him, his hand would’ve remained at his side as the male tribute was called. If people cared about him, he might not have volunteered it at all, not even for her. His head, seemingly smaller nestled on his mother’s shoulder, would’ve been comforted. A father would’ve made him realize that mourning a living person was pointless and to cling to hope. He would’ve watched her trajectory in the arena from a safe distance. He would’ve gone without knowing what her blood smelled like fresh out of her wounds and dried on the buttons of his shirt. Would’ve would’ve would’ve.

None of the hypotheticals mattered when reality was all he had. Not that he was thinking about that either. A bird nibbling on some fruit in the trees caught his attention.

Finding food seemed like the best idea. Mr. Raz’s meatloaf made his tastebuds come to life, but even Miss Railia’s potato soup sounded good to his growling stomach. Meanwhile, his most recent meal was sending messages to his head too. Nowhere seemed like a good spot to take a leak. Not with the possibility of a wasp or butterfly still flying about. Peeing seemed so basic a thing to do and it irked him, but it was something to do. Everything seemed so non-essential, everything except for outrunning what his subconscious seemed dead-set on wrapping him up in. Night was falling on the arena and he had no time to waste worrying about things that would only slow him down and disappoint him. 

Between the ages of six and ten, Niko could vividly recall the annoyance on the faces of every adult he had unlimited access to. Miss Railia, her late husband, and anyone in the district who made regular trips past their house. He asked questions of everyone. When would his parents come back for him? Where was this place they brought him to? What happened to his mom and dad? Would things ever go back to normal? The answers he received weren’t to his satisfaction. He thought everyone was keeping secrets from him on purpose and that everyone knew something that he didn’t. In order to stop the pangs in his chest where the ice was now, he settled on never knowing. 

Were his parents dead? He didn’t care.

Would he ever get to go home? He didn’t care. 

Would things go back to normal? By the time he was old enough, he realized there was no such thing. 

Thinking about the real answers to the questions he wanted answers would lead him to dead ends.

He’d forgotten what it was like to be so obsessive, and once again, over what was in the past. She was in the past.

Memory flashed a bathroom or something that looked like it back on the first day in the arena. Eyesight told him he was right. Blood stains on his hands led him to the sink first. He scrubbed the red away with ease, but the lukewarm water had no effect on the other flashing memories. She would’ve found the bright side and maybe even an advantage to taking a bathroom break in the nastiest shit hole ever. Her fleeting presence diffused what he’d usually think about where he was, leading to him locking the stall door behind him and letting a much warmer stream loose.

Too comfortable. Never get too comfortable. He should’ve brought Sushi inside the stall with him. 

The instant he flushed, a dozen snakes with black and yellow scales slithered out from the toilet, eagerly exiting the bowl down onto his feet dripping with water and who knows what else. Niko backed into the door, his back slammed against the sturdy gray plastic. His fingers fumbled with the lock, but even once he got a grip, the lock stayed stubbornly in place. His back hit the door again, on purpose this time. The weight of his body didn’t even make it shake, the floor still slithered with pissed-off snakes. 

Rage transformed him into a tornado bent on destruction, slamming against the door again and the concrete wall opposite. He kicked the toilet’s flusher. Only more snakes emerged to completely conceal the bathroom floor. The reptiles snapped at his ankles and knees, for some of the bolder ones. Nothing seemed to come of it as he effortlessly tossed them from the floor to the walls. Why was he so angry? 

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” he screeched at increasing volume. His fists vibrated with agony and the parts of his foot that struck metal stung. Everything hurt, even the harmless snake bites that he could no longer count. “Let me out!” he screamed. A whirlpool of suffering and thoughts he didn’t want to think swirled around in his head. Everything sucked and nothing was getting any better as he spun to a defeated fetal position on the floor of scales. A snake hissed in his face before being clutched in an unforgiving fist and thrown back into the bowl. 

Niko panted heavily and wanted the burning threat of vomit coming up his throat to go away. His limbs faltered like he’d been carrying loads of bricks all day, keeping him laid out on the floor. No venom in the world could’ve made him ache the way he did. There was nowhere left to run and his subconscious had caught up with him.  

Gemma was dead and he was trapped. Trapped in this shit hole bathroom stall. Trapped in the Games. Trapped in this shit hole world without her. It would be him and four walls around him for the rest of his fucking life. No door out, no way out. She was the only one who knew the way in and she’d died without unlocking the fucking door. 

🥊 - pinch, slap, punch.

WTF, what would prompt Marcello to punch any of these people? But... Pinch Leo, cause he’s going through enough shit. Slap Elliot, it might do him some good to toughen up a little. Although, Marcello would never usually go for such measures. Punch Axel, because he seems the most capable of taking it. 💍 - fuck, marry, kill. “Obviously, I’m going to marry Maddie. It is just going to take some time to resolve things... Helena is a doll, so I wouldn’t mind spending a night with her. Sora, uhh. Yeah.”

🔪 - protect, attack, fight side-by-side with.

LAYLA: yoooo

Caisey Barrows, Gemma Watts Barrows, Penny Thomas, Liyana Barrows (Mentioned)

@gemmafckinwatts @birussianspy

949 words

written: mar 19, 2019

set: dec 26, 2010