In The Hospital Ward. AGAIN.
Damn it. I’m even in the same bed. I swear I’m recognizing some of the dots on the ceiling. So that makes 400 dots I’m actually sure of. Still recounting the others…
This is going to take me a little while to type out. Passion hit me with a bolt of lightning in the arena and I’m still trying to recover some of my minor motor skills. Val says typing will be good practice. I guess it is. When I can control the random shaking my hands go through. Gah…I better not go anywhere near my knives or I’ll cut off all my fingers by accident. Some of those things can go through bone like melted butter.
Speaking of knives and cutting…I’m sure everyone remembers Roxelana. Well, not to be disrepectful to the dead, but…
‘Ding, dong, the bitch is dead!’
It might sound somewhat bloodthirsty to gloat about it, but there are some people where it’s understandable. There was a law in Texas back in the late 1800’s where, if a man was killed, and a good amount of the population thought the man needed to be dead, the killer got off without a trial. The general thought was “He needed killin’.” Roxelana needed killin’.
I just wish I hadn’t had to slit her throat to do it. There’s something about feeling life slip out of a warm body that…Guh. It’s wrong. It feels horrible. Even with Roxelana…I don’t want to kill again. And never like that if I can get away with it. I’ll stick with my frying pan and my guns.
Wait….speaking of my frying pan, did anyone see what happened to it? Or do I have to get a new one?
Awwww, man…Cristoph says my frying pan was still in the Hunger Games arena when we left. I have to get a new one. Damn.
Passion was one hell of a fighter. And a gamer. Are they so different in the end?
I almost kinda wish we hadn’t had to kill Passion. I almost liked the guy, for a Stu. Back when we first met him, he was fun. He’d log in to whatever game was being played and join us in multiplayer. For or against. The guy had no problems teaming up with us in Halo or TF2. He was just another gamer.
I think I’ll miss him.
I wish he hadn’t died thinking what he was about us. I’m sorry he died in a righteous fury. I’d be angry like that too. Have been. I wish I could’ve…GODDAMMIT. I can’t even say it here. Sometimes, @, I really hate you.
Goodbye, Passion. Requiescat in pace.
Umm…Cristoph’s asking me to type something. He says, “Emily, I wish to speak with you on your spying skills, ninja to ninja.” I think he’s impressed that you got that naughty sketch of us, hun, but annoyed that you got it and he didn’t notice. Speaking of which…you’re not getting it back.
Huh. Cristoph says he’s got a special gift for my 21st birthday and that if I want it I should get off now. He’s, uh….Oh YES thank you God.