Triple Crown

[Sonmi-451]

More added.

After we take a seat in the deathly-white, OCD-organized cafeteria full of other champions – including the three I killed, who give me nasty looks as I pass them – I can’t eat anything Abby puts in front of me, even though it’s some of the best food I’ve ever tasted. So she won’t yell at me, I sit there and nibble on a piece of toast that seems to have gained the flavor and consistency of carpet.
“You have to eat Lizzie!” Abby tells me, looking at me desperately with those incredible blue eyes of hers. I admire the fact that she cares so much but the fact that she can guilt-trip me into anything is starting to get annoying.
“I am eating Abby.” I hold up the piece of toast in my hand and she nods her approval. When she turns around for a moment to retrieve the other food she got me, I shoot and make the toast into the trashcan across the room. When she turns back around, she sees no toast in my hand and narrows her eyes at me suspiciously.
“What’d you do with the toast Lizzie?” she asks me, looking under the table to see if I dropped it under there. I would never drop any evidence under a table; that’d be way too easy to find.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I answer calmly, keeping my head up and staring Abby straight in the eye as I straight-out lie, and I realize that, even sitting down, I’m nearly as tall as she is.
“Lizzie!” she cries, giving me an angry, almost amazed look. “You just had the toast a second ago.”
Again, I answer evenly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” and give her my most winning smile.
Just as Abby has opened her mouth to answer, she looks up at something behind me and I whip around, hoping it’s not another champion.
Which, of course it is, and it happens to be my least favorite champion, Marshall Moore, as well. “Do you have a smile like that for me?” he asks me provocatively, and I instinctively rise to my feet to prevent him from having a direct view down my shirt. Well, at least he’s stopped those incredibly stupid pauses.
“No, but I’ve got two words for you,” I tell him as sweetly as possible, not wanting to give away what they actually are.
“Hmm…” Marshall’s eyes are glued to my face – thank God they’re not glued somewhere else – and I can tell by his expression that he’s at least somewhat suspicious. However, finally his attraction to me wins over and he questions, stepping closer, “Well, Lizzie…” I cringe internally when he says my name, because it’s coming out of his mouth and God knows where that’s been. “…What are they?”
Walking over to Abby and placing my hands firmly over her eyes, I then tell him, probably the most sincere I’ve ever been, “Screw off.”
His face contorts into that awful grimace like it did in the arena and I smile as I know that I’ve pushed the buttons I wanted to. I uncover Abby’s ears since I figure that she’ll probably want to hear this, considering that she hates Marshall nearly as much as I do.
“What, those not the words you were looking for?” I ask him, giving him a falsely sympathetic, falsely sweet look. A quick glance around me proves what I already know: that every eye in the cafeteria is on me. Good. Maybe it will make more of an impression if I embarrass Marshall publicly. “Well, Mr. Moore, here’s a newflash: I don’t care. I hate you because A) you are a douchebag and B) you kissed me without my permission. So, I do believe it’s best for both of us -” I cover Abby’s ears again, knowing that she probably doesn’t want to hear this part. “- if you screw off.”
I then grab Abby’s hand and an apple and march out of the cafeteria to a round of applause and cheering.
As we’re walking back towards the hospital room that I hope Luke is still in, I say aloud, “Well, I’d say that went pretty well. Even the other two champions I killed were cheering for me,” and she nods her head in agreement.
“You make quite an impression Lizzie,” Abby tells me, smiling up at me.
Let’s hope I make an impression on the battlefield too.

[Lizzy<3]

ohh geez i need more!!!

[Sonmi-451]

More added, and thanks.

I am fighting the boy from Three, a career champion – of course – in the fourth round. I’m not that concerned though, considering that the other three career champions I faced were easily taken down. However, the one thing that I remember about this boy is that he has a way of coming back after taking a couple of hits, so I know that I have to kill him quickly so he doesn’t have an opportunity to come back. So, besides that, I’d say I’m set for this round. As for next round, well… I don’t know. All I know is that I have to win this round first before I even think about next round.

“Lightning,” the boy from Three tells me, jerking his head downward in what I think is meant as a recognizing gesture but looks more like a muscle spasm. I see his knuckles white on his sword hilt and I realize that he, of all things, is nervous, which I find rather odd. If anything, I should be the one who’s nervous, since the odds are most definitely in his favor. After all, he’s been training for this his whole life and is a lot bigger and a lot stronger than I am. So why is he worried?
Puzzled by his odd behavior, I tell him in reply, “Clay,” and nod my head at him like he did at me, although hopefully I don’t look like I’m having a muscle spasm. Glancing over in the direction of the other champions, I see Luke sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyebrows knotted in concern, holding Abby’s hand as she looks at me with an utterly terrified look on her face. Turning away from my grim fans, I barely have time to pull my sword out before the gunshot that starts the fighting goes off. I raise my blade, expecting him to charge me while I’m not prepared, and instead see him running off towards the other side of the arena. What the hell is he doing? I look over at Luke and Abby again to see similar looks of shock on their faces and I know that I’m not alone in my amazement.
I yell at them, hoping they’ll have at least some idea of what’s going on, “What is he doing?” and Luke just shrugs back at me, looking even more concerned now.
Well, whatever Marcus Clay is doing, it certainly is original, I’ll give him that. Suddenly it strikes me that maybe he wants me to chase after him and tire myself out, so, instead of doing that, I simply sit down and wait for him to come back, deciding that if he is going to make this into a contest of patience, I am going to win. Besides, once the audience gets bored enough, the Triple Crown committee will drive Marcus back towards me so they will actually get a winner, because having no winner would be bad, very bad. After all, they went through the trouble of rounding me up and taking me from my universe was so they would have a Triple Crown winner. For some reason, Marcus has now turned around and is coming back at me, so I leap to my feet and assume a battle stance, determined to kill him as soon as he gets within reach. When he gets to be about twenty feet in front of me, he drops his sword and his spear, then continues to walk towards me.
“What are you doing?” I ask him when he’s ten feet away, not dropping my weapon since I have a feeling it’s some kind of trap or trick.
He takes a couple steps forward, but isn’t so close that I can stab him, and looks at me, his eyes pleading and desperate. “Kill me.” His low voice is so quiet that I almost don’t hear what he says but figure it out as soon as I see his eyes darting between my sword and I.
“What?” I stare at him with a mixture of shock, astonishment and still some suspicion. The idea that this could be a trap to get me off guard has not left my mind yet.
“Kill me,” he repeats, louder this time. His eyes are glued on mine with such an intense, frantic gaze that I think he’s actually serious.
“But… why?” I ask him, dumbfounded. “You’re a career champion. You’ve been training for this your whole life, so why do you want to die and lose?” I don’t get it. His goal in life for years now has been to win the Triple Crown, so why does he want to die and therefore throw away all chance of winning?
“I never wanted this, I never wanted to win. All I ever wanted to do was stay at home and be a blacksmith, like the rest of my family, but since I was big and strong they said I had a good chance at winning and convinced my family to put me in training for the Triple Crown, and then my name got drawn to be a champion and everyone was so happy, they said I had a great chance at winning. But no one ever asked me if I wanted to be a career champion or fight in the Triple Crown. And now that I’m here, in the Triple Crown, I don’t want to win, because winning means killing other kids, and I don’t want to kill anybody. All I want to do is go home.”
All of a sudden, I don’t see Marcus Clay, the six-six, three-hundred-pound favorite to win the Triple Crown, I see frightened little Abby merely stating the truth about how she felt, and I’m reminded, yet again, that I should never judge a book by its cover.
“So will you help me go home Lizzie?” Marcus has come closer and is now within striking distance. He has no armor on, so killing him would be a snap, and, even though he wants to die, I don’t know if I can kill him. He’s, he’s too… innocent, too childlike, even though he’s so huge, and I can’t kill a person like that. I won’t.
Marcus apparently sees the denial in my eyes, so he gets down on his knees and begs, “Please, Lizzie, please! Think of it as doing me a favor!” I stare into the chocolate-brown depths of his pleading eyes and I know that I have to. For him.
“Alright Marcus,” I tell him finally, sighing as I know that I’ll feel bad if I kill him or not, so I might as well make one of us happy. I see the look of relief on his face and I feel more confident in my decision, which is not to say that I like it. At all. But I think it’s the right one now. I wait until he rises to his feet, and, seized by an impulse, stand on tiptoe and give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Goodbye, Marcus,” I whisper as I sink my blade into his heart and he falls to the ground, a faint smile on his lips. Bending down over his body, I close his eyes, thinking he might as well go as honorably as possible, then turn back away because I don’t want to his body getting eaten by the dirt. Sighing a great, sad sigh, I walk over towards where Luke and Abby are and collapse into a chair, feeling more drained than I did last night.
“You did the right thing Lizzie,” Luke tells me quietly, staring at me with concern overflowing from his eyes.
“I sure hope I did,” I murmur back, my eyes glued on my feet as my hands fidget with the water bottle I’m holding. I look up at Luke and sigh again, the sadness and desperation of the boy I just killed hanging over me as if, at any moment, they could fall down on me and crush me because of their weight.
“Edward Knightley and Luke Gates, report to the center of the arena for your battle,” an unearthly, cool male voice booms over the arena and I see Luke rise from his chair and grab his sword.
“Good luck!” Abby tells him, somehow managing to sound sincere and upbeat when her eyes are wide with fear.
Standing up, I walk over to Luke and murmur, my eyes glued on his face, “Good luck,” then step forward and hug him as tight as I can. I bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent and committing it to memory, and, even when he lets go of me, I don’t let go of him, because I know that when I do, he’s either going to get murdered or become a murderer.
When I finally release him and take a step back, he says to me quietly, a sad smile on his face, “Let’s hope I won’t need it,” then turns away from me and walks out towards the center of the arena to either cause death or face it.

[Sonmi-451]

More added.

“Luke, to the left!” I yell at him, seeing a wide-open patch of Edward’s skin that would be easy to stab with a sword.
Luke doesn’t look up, but I can tell he hears me because he immediately jabs Edward in that spot and then sinks his sword into Edward’s back when Edward bends over in pain. The gunshot fires, showing that Edward is dead, and Luke turns away, apparently having the same aversion to seeing the ground eat dead bodies that I do.
As he nears Abby and I, I tell him, “Good job Luke,” then give him a genuine, unforced smile, truly impressed by his performance in his fight.
He turns to look at me suddenly, confusion and sadness in his eyes. “No, it wasn’t a good job. I should’ve just died,” he murmurs, not acting at all as he drops his gaze to the water bottle in his hands, and I remember what I had forgotten for a millisecond of kindness: that now Luke and I are going to have to kill each other for the Triple Crown.
“Luke…” I call to him, but he doesn’t even look up at me and instead fiddles with the lid of his water bottle, twisting and untwisting and twisting again, and, in a spurt of anger, his fist crushes around the bottle and flattens it as he stares down at it, his eyes stormy with rage. “Good luck,” I whisper to him, so quietly that I can barely hear it myself, then grab my sword, give Abby one last hug, and walk out into the center of the arena.

The gunshot that releases us to fight goes off, and I raise my sword instinctively, not actually expecting him to charge me but wanting to be safe than sorry.
“Luke,” I murmur almost inaudibly, my eyes scanning his face, searching every feature for any sign of emotion that would let me figure what’s going on inside of his head and decide what card he’s going to play in our ‘relationship’.
“Lizzie.” He looks at me, confused, and drops his sword. Instead of running and fleeing like Marcus did, he begins to walk towards me and I brace myself for what words will be uttered and the fact that, if all goes as planned, we’ll both be dead soon.
“I’ve always loved you Lizzie, always,” he tells me quietly, his gaze glued on mine, and there’s something about the intensity and sincerity of his gaze that almost makes me doubt that he’s acting, even though he most definitely is. It’s not like he actually loves me.
I fake shock, trying to swallow and pretending that I can’t, then looking back at Luke’s face, knowing that, if it weren’t for his acting skills, we definitely wouldn’t have gotten this far. Knowing that it’s time to act like I completely fall for him.
“You can’t have loved me always,” I tell him finally after I finish pretending to be surprised. “After all, we’ve only known each other for four years now.”
“All right, so I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you,” Luke answers gracefully, taking my less-than-lovestruck response in stride. “I remember the first day of eighth grade when you walked in wearing your ASU Fear the Fork shirt, basketball shorts and flip-flops and had all of the guys drooling over you immediately, including me. And I remember thinking how beautiful you were and how I could never want any other girl.” Wait… that’s exactly what I wore the first day of eighth grade and that’s exactly what happened… is Luke not acting anymore?
Before I can say or do anything in response, Luke bridges the gap between us with two steps and kisses me on the lips.
The most interesting thing about the kiss is not the fact that it happened but the feeling – or lack of one – which I get from it. I was expecting to at least feel something, even if it wasn’t love, but I feel nothing. At all. And that almost concerns me, since now I’m going to have to work extra hard to make it look like I’m in love with him.
“I had to do that, at least once,” he murmurs in my ear, not able to keep the desperation out of his voice when he pulls back. I look up at him in wonder, now knowing for certain that none of this is an act for him.
I scan his face for emotion to find him looking down at me for a reaction, so I drop my gaze. Placing my hand on his chest to feel his heart beat steadily and reassuringly under my palm, it sickens me that I would even think about making it stop.
“You know, I think I always knew, deep down, that you loved me – and that I loved you,” I tell him finally, looking back up at him and seeing hope blossom in his eyes. Does he think I’m not acting? “Oh God, why couldn’t I have figured that out three years ago?” I cry, knowing that I’m really laying it on thick now as I bury my head in his shoulder and feel his arms tighten around me. “Then maybe we could’ve had some time together.” Removing my head from his shoulder, I add, completely sincere, “Besides, I could’ve used your calmness freshman year, when hormones were all the rage.” His mouth twitches into a tiny smile at my last comment, and it makes me marginally happy to see him even the tiniest bit pleased when I’m just going to break his heart later.
For a few seconds, we just stand there, holding onto each other desperately, him actually meaning it and me just playing along and thinking that I’m a horrible person because I don’t love him when I really should, and then Luke pulls away and tells me urgently, his eyes doing as much pleading as his voice does, “Kill me, Lizzie. You’re worth more than me.”
“No!” I answer, trying to be emphatic, as I realize that’s the cue to start putting our double-suicide plan into action. Going along with what we agreed to do, I ask him, “Will you kill me if I kill you?” knowing that he’ll say no first but eventually say yes, since that’s what our plan is.
“No, of course not! I could and would never kill you!” Luke exclaims in reply, his eyes widening in pretend shock and anger at my suggestion.
“Luke, consider it a double suicide, a way to make sure that neither one of us has to go on without the other one,” I say to him, acting like I’m desperately trying to sway him. When I see that he is pretending to be unconvinced, it’s my turn to fake begging. “Luke, please. I can’t kill you, you can’t kill me and at least one of us has to die, so this is the only solution I can come up with,” I tell him, uncomfortably aware of the silent spectators and that every word I say, every move I make, is being transmitted to televisions nationwide, so if I mess up and give myself away, I’m not only going to have to deal with Luke but an unhappy country as well. “Luke, think of it as doing me a favor,” I finally say, cuing him that it’s time to die.
“Alright Lizzie,” he finally replies, and I silently celebrate that this whole thing is going to blow up on El Nieve by them losing their supposed-to-be champion, and this time I stand on tiptoe and kiss him, not feeling anything again but knowing that the kiss doesn’t seem forced. “Always remember… I will love you till the last,” he murmurs in my ear as I pull back, and I see that look in his eye, the one he had when he looked at me on the roof and denied that there was anyone special, and I’m even more certain that this is not just an act for him.
“Well, it’s the last, so feel free to stop loving me at any time,” I respond, bringing a weak, insincere smile to his face as I think that it’d make this a whole hell of a lot easier if Luke actually could just drop the act and stop loving me. Oh well; he does love me, and now we’re both going to die. Those are two facts I can’t change, and might not change even if I could.
I pick his sword up from the ground and give it to him then pull my own sword off my back and heft it in my hands, knowing I’m going to miss my blade. Just before I position my sword so that it will go straight through Luke’s heart, the fastest, least painful death, I raise two fingers to my forehead and give mocking salute to the crowd. Since I’m going to die, I might as well die in style. After Luke has also lined his sword up so that it will go through my heart, I murmur, “It was nice knowing you, Luke William Gates,” as I prepare to stab him.
Just before we are about to kill each other, a human voice from overhead, Puck’s voice to be exact, not the detached male voice I heard earlier, booms, “Stop! And now, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you your winners of the Hand-to-Hand Combat round of the Triple Crown!”
The crowd erupts around us and I turn to Luke, a sincere grin of pure happiness and relief spreading across my face. “We did it Luke!” I yell, throwing my arms around him and hugging him as hard as I can. Even though I don’t love him, I really wasn’t looking forward to killing him. “We did it,” I repeat again, feeling the liberation – along with sadness – spread through my body. I then pull away and kiss him again, even though I’m very aware of the emptiness I feel, it doesn’t matter; the only thing that matters right now is that we both survived. He then grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine, sharing my smile and not noticing my confusion, and I can see right through him. I can tell that he thinks I’m not acting, and I can tell how much it’s going to hurt him when I tell him that I only pretended to love him because Max told me to so both of us could survive.
“Feel free to do that as much as you want,” he whispers in my ear emphatically, both of our grins growing bigger. “I mean, we’re supposed to be madly in love, so don’t ever think you have to limit how much you kiss me.” I know it’s supposed to be meant as a joke, but it makes me sad to know that it’s not just a supposed-to for him and that it’s only a supposed-to for me.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, trying to make my eyes twinkle, and, as they beam us back into the Champions’ Center, a stray lyric from a Switchfoot song wanders into my mind.
“But you haven’t lost me yet,” I hear in my mind, and I look over at Luke and down at our linked hands. I know that, at some point, I’m going to have to let go, and that, when I do, I might not ever get him back. However, I can't let myself dwell on that, so all I do is think, “No you haven’t Luke,” and hold onto his hand tighter, dreading the moment when I have to let go.

[Lizzy<3]

Amazing but alot like the hunger games...

[Sonmi-451]

More added.

“Lizzie, that was perfect,” Max whispers in my ear as he embraces me. “If I didn’t know better, I would have actually thought you fell for him!” He breaks away from me and gives me a smile that I don’t deserve as I remember that Luke actually does think that.
“You were just… acting?” Luke stares at me with confusion and hurt, this time most definitely real, in his eyes.
“I was doing what Max told me to, Luke,” I tell him gently, knowing that the moment has come that might take Luke away from me for good. “I was only keeping us alive.” I hear the pleading creeping into my voice and push it aside; I can’t afford to look weak now, of all times.
“You two had this worked out before?” Luke turns to Max, the pain in his voice being replaced by pure anger, and even Max looks somewhat intimated. “You told her to lie to me, to trick me?” I can almost heart his heart fracturing – along with my own. Oh God, how can I be such a bad person? How can I not love him when he loves me so much?
“I told her to milk it for all it was worth and get the crowd to love you two, and look what it did. It kept you both alive.” Max is clearly trying to come off mad but I can hear the regret and sadness in his voice, and I know he didn’t mean for it to go this far either.
“I should’ve died then, because at least I would’ve died under the delusion that you loved me,” Luke tells me as he leaves the room, and his words hurt more than any weapon ever could.
“He’ll come around Lizzie, I just know it,” Max tells me encouragingly but shuts up immediately when I give him a flat stare. Now is not a time to be all happy and nice when there’s nothing really happy or nice that he can say.
After we sit in silence for a little while, Max says to me, “Lizzie, there’s something you need to know,” and I look up at him, hoping desperately that it isn’t about Luke. “El Nieve, they don’t like the stunt you pulled with the double suicide, since many of the Sections didn’t see it as love but rebellion and are now rebelling against El Nieve itself.”
My heart drops into my stomach as I realize what this means: I’ve started a rebellion that could very well kill millions of people.
“So, from now on out, you’re going to have to be very careful about what you do. Lizzie, the only thing that can save you and Luke and all of your loved ones is if you prove, without a doubt, that you are in love with him and did it because you couldn’t stand to live without him, all right?” Max tells me urgently, catching my gaze with his to make sure I’m following. As if I wouldn’t be. “Basically, play dumb and in love and pretend that you had no idea that your actions could be considered rebellious. Tomorrow, during the victory interviews, lay it on as thick as you dare.”
“All right.” I nod my head in agreement, resigning myself to having to become an actor again. I swear to God, this constant faking I’m having to do is a whole hell of a lot more work than staying alive with thirty – well, twenty-nine – other people wanting me dead.
“You’re going to have to fake it better this time Lizzie,” Max reminds me. “Because this time you have to stop a rebellion and save more than just your own life.” I glance up at him and see sadness and pity in his eyes. I guess he didn’t have to deal with a rebellion he caused during his Triple Crown. “By the way, you have a visitor.” He jerks his head in the direction of the elevator, which opens and out steps Jackson.

“Lizzie,” he whispers, and I run at him and throw myself into his arms, feeling his hard, lean, incredibly muscular frame against my own and committing his scent to memory, in case it’s the last time I ever see him again.
“Jackson,” I murmur into his shoulder, wishing I could live in this moment forever. I then look up at him and see his yellow eyes dancing as he stares down at me, which brings a smile to my face, but then I see it: a sadness in his whole being that he can’t quite hide. And then I know why.
“You saw, didn’t you?” I ask him quietly, gazing up into those stunning, haunted eyes of his. As he nods his head ever-so-slightly in assent, I’m reminded, like I always am when I see him, that Jackson has seen and gone through horrors I can’t even imagine. Jackson is the one-in-a-trillion chance of a canid – he’s originally a gray wolf – being born with a language receptor, so the government captured him and experimented on him to see if they could get him to speak English, as he already understood it. And they got him to speak – but his vocal ability came with a lot of other side effects they didn’t bargain on. Jackson became six feet tall at the shoulder and a half a ton of muscle when a wolf, gained the ability to shapeshift into a human and received power over the elements, so those scientists that experimented on him created a superweapon without even knowing it. But Jackson knew very well what he could do, so he broke himself out, with my and my brothers’ help, of the lab he was held at about a year ago and has been attending Elizabeth High School with me ever since. He’s a senior and I’m a junior, as he is turning eighteen in human years on June 13th and I turned seventeen on February 13th. I guess the experiments they did on him make him age like a human too. Of course, I’m not human either. I am, in fact, a shapeshifter as well, and my base form is a pure gold wolf with pure gold eyes that just happens to be six feet tall at the shoulder and a thousand pounds of muscle – like Jackson. You know, the funniest part about it all is that Alexa, my ex-best friend who rejected Jackson for one of my twin older brothers, Gwillan, went from one shapeshifter who shouldn’t exist to another shapeshifter that shouldn’t exist. Which I find incredibly ironic. But I’m not complaining about it, because then I wouldn’t have the relationship with Jackson that I do know. I raise my hands up to Jackson’s back and can feel, even through his shirt, the raised scars from where the government carved the specifics of his experiment into his flesh. I feel him relax under my touch and continue to trace the one and the three (he was Project Number 13) inlaid in his skin. I then remove my hand and feel his arms tighten around me as I lean into him. I’ve missed him so much, even though it’s only been four days since I last saw him. Jackson suddenly raises a hand and gently cups my chin, then, before I can do or say anything, leans in and kisses me, and I feel a hunger start in my chest and spread through my whole body, and I kiss Jackson back as I feel his arms slide down to my lower back. However, all of a sudden I see movement in the corner of my eye and pull away to find Luke standing there, his face stony even as his eyes boil over with rage and hurt.
“I had to do that, at least once, before you became his,” Jackson murmurs in my ear, his eyes flickering in Luke’s direction, then turns and leaves silently.
I look around desperately, hoping Max is still here so I don’t have to face Luke alone, but, of course, Max is nowhere to be seen, so I guess I’m doing this by myself.
“I thought you weren’t…” Luke begins, staring at me with betrayal written all over his face.
“I thought we weren’t too,” I reply, looking Luke up and down sadly as I realize that this may have pushed him over the edge and that I may have lost him for good. “Luke, I’m sorry,” I tell him quietly, taking a few shaky steps towards him until I walk into his open arms.
“I know,” he whispers in my ear, kissing my neck softly as he holds onto me tighter. “So what do we do now?” he asks me as he pulls back and gazes down on me with that stunning ice-blue gaze that I know I’ll never be able to shake from my mind.
“Well, we have the interviews tomorrow and the victory tour, where we go around to all the sections and they have to pretend like they love us and we have to pretend like we’re happy to have won.” Despite the fact that, if I don’t convince the country that I’m in love with Luke, all of my loved ones could die, I smile up at him as I realize it’s going to take a lot more than me kissing another guy to lose Luke. “And… we also have to pretend that we’re in love,” I add quietly, anticipating what Luke is going to say and preparing for how much it’s going to hurt.
“I won’t be pretending Lizzie,” he answers quietly, just like I thought he would, and my heart sinks into my stomach. Why does he have to be so good and true?
“Oh God Luke, why do you have to be so damn sincere?” I cry, burying my head in his shoulder and pulling back. “You’re over here actually loving me and trying to do what’s best while I’m just acting and manipulating you to keep us alive and I really wish I loved you because I know I’m never going to do better than you, better than someone who would die for me, but I don’t love you, and that makes me feel like a horrible person to know that you do and that I’ve just been pretending!” I sigh a huge sigh and gaze up at him, wondering how he’s going to take this confession of mine.
Luke draws me closer to him and I feel his hard abdominal muscles as I press against his body, my heart rate jumping as he leans towards me.
When his face is so close to mine that our foreheads are nearly touching, he tells me, his ice-blue eyes glimmering in the low light, “Well, let’s see if I can make you real,” and then kisses me.
But I don’t feel anything this time either, just the emptiness that I felt the other times he kissed me. I can’t break Luke’s heart like this, though, so I kiss him back, hoping to dear God that Luke falls for it.
“That should have been our first kiss,” I murmur, wishing desperately that I was a better actor when he pulls away, his eyes ever fixated on my face.
“You’re telling me,” he replies, smiling the biggest smile I’ve ever seen in the four years I’ve known him. “So… did you feel anything?” he asks me, and I can hear the trepidation and hope in his voice.
I open my mouth to say yes, to keep this ruse going, but I find that I can’t do it, that I can’t break Luke’s heart even more than I already have. So I tell him the truth and say, “No.” I see his face fall and I sigh another huge sigh, wondering if our relationship could ever return to normal, if we were to both go home. But then I remember that we probably won’t go home and that, if we do, the Triple Crown has taken the word ‘normal’ out of both of our vocabularies. And then suddenly it hits me, why our relationship could never be normal: there’s still Jackson, and there’s still the fact that I can’t love Luke as much as he deserves, and there’s still the fact that I plan on being dead in a month, and I feel the smile fall off of my face as I think about the seriousness of our situation.
“Luke…” I begin, pulling completely away from him and dropping my eyes to the ground, “Even if I did love you, I can’t love you as much as you love me, I can’t love you as much as you deserve, because there’s still Jackson and there’s still the fact that I’m going to have to act in love with you on the victory tour and I’m still a horrible person and I still wish I had never met you and this had never happened and that I could just go off and die in peace in my own little rebellion of El Nieve, but I know that I can’t do that now because you won’t let me and El Nieve won’t let me and, hell, maybe even I won’t let me just run off and die anymore, because maybe I’ve actually got a purpose now that the Sections have seen our attempted double-suicide and are rebelling themselves and I know that I can’t just leave them and I know that I can’t just leave you either and…” My voice cracks and I find that I can’t continue.
“The Sections are rebelling?” I look up at him to see his eyes wide with shock – and maybe even happiness.
Still not able to speak, I nod my head in assent and then avert my gaze to the floor. Finally I am able to clear my throat and tell him, “And the only way that I can keep everyone I love alive, including my family and Jackson, is if I convince the rebelling districts that I suggested our double-suicide because I was too in love with you to think of living without you and that I had no idea it was at all rebellious. Since you’ve already proven your devotion and I’m the one who has to show how devoted I am, you don’t have to do anything except be as genuine and sincere as you always are.” I pause, not knowing how to say what I feel. “But… I’m not completely convinced if I should try to stop the rebellion Luke. I mean, I truly think it’s better to die on your feet than to live on your knees, and I think these people should at least have a chance at being on their feet, you know?”
“Well, I’ll stand beside you, no matter what you decide to do.” He pulls me to him again, and I lean on him as I feel him gently reach up and caress my face. He then kisses me on the neck and I feel warmth spread from the spot where his lips touched me, and, yet again, I wonder about the nature of this utterly twisted relationship of ours.
“Luke, I don’t think I could do any better than you,” I murmur, gazing up at him and nearly drowning in the beauty of his eyes. “Which just makes me feel like even more of a bad person because I don’t love you when you’re perfect for me and you love me with all of your heart.” I drop my gaze to the ground, searching the immaculately polished white tile underneath my feet for solutions to my dilemma.
“Lizzie, don’t feel bad about not loving me; even though I may be incredibly jealous and I may love you so much it hurts, I know you can’t really help it that you love Jackson and it makes me happy to know that you would love me if you had a choice.” And there Luke has gone off and done it again: he’s made me feel like a horrible creature, like the lowest form of living organism, and he hasn’t even tried.
“You are so inherently good, Luke, so much better than anyone around you, and it just hurts to be around you and have you be all good and truthful to me when I know that I can’t return it, even though I desperately want to.” I lean into him again and bury myself in his shoulder, wishing that this had never happened, that the Triple Crown didn’t exist. Like I had been wishing for the last four days.
Luke seems unfazed by my comments and asks me gently, “Well, my only question is, if I’m inherently good, what are you?”
“Luke,” I begin, looking up at him and knowing that he needs to understand, “I am inherently dangerous.”

[Lizzy<3]

yum need more!

[Sonmi-451]

More added.

“How do you do it?” I ask Luke as I lay next to him, his arm around me, and watch the moonlight’s silvery tendrils creep through his bedroom window. I couldn’t sleep – like usual – so I snuck into Luke’s room and found him having the same issue, and we decided that maybe the other’s company could help us. And it has. Greatly.
“Do what?” He looks over at me, his face bathed in the soft glow of the moon, and he gently smoothes a strand of hair away from my face.
“Keep up with me, put up with me, love me when I don’t love you,” I murmur, rolling over to face him. “It must be incredibly exhausting.”
A small smile quirks his lips and he draws me closer to him, his eyes shining in the low light. “Well, it has its very tiring moments – like when you want me to kill you – but generally I can keep up and I can always put up with you.” Now it’s my turn to smile. “And as for the love part…” he whispers, his gaze locked on mine, “No matter how hard it gets, no matter where we go or what we do or even if we die, I will always be there, always. Te amo siempre, Lizzie.” He then kisses my forehead gently and wraps his arm around me tighter, and he falls asleep soon after. But I just lay there, gazing over at Luke and wondering why he’s given me his all when I’ve given him nothing. And then I start to think about the meaning of devotion and about how I have none, even though I want to, and I know that the epitome of it is lying next to me, and that, no matter what I do, Luke will always be there. I’m sure that if I died and Luke survived, Luke would visit my grave every day for the rest of his life, not caring that I didn’t love him when I really should have, but only caring about the fact that I’m dead and he’s alive, and probably blaming himself for my death the whole time even though I chose to die. That’s the kind of guy Luke is. But what would I do if he died? How long would I care about him after he passed? Would I think about him every day for a week, a month, a year after he died? Would I even care? No, I would care. But how much would I care? Would I care as much as he would? Would I visit his grave every day like he would mine? I don’t know if I’d visit his grave every day, but I’d like to think that I’d at least think about him every day; that would be the least I could do for the boy that gave his life, his heart, his soul, his everything for me. And I’d like to think that I’d never forget him, the boy who loved me when I didn’t love him and gave me everything when I gave him nothing and died for me when I just wanted to die myself. I’d like to think that I’m not as horrible of a person as to forget that. But I can’t think about forgetting or leaving or saying goodbye now, because first I have to get through the ordeal of staying and remembering and saying, “I love you,” and not meaning it, and I’m going to need my full, unoccupied mind to do that. So I curl up next to Luke, place my head on his chest, feel his heart beat steadily and find myself falling asleep before I can even close my eyes.

I awake to find Luke watching me with a small, sincere smile on his face that is mirrored in his eyes.
“What?” I ask him, disgruntled and almost shocked that he awoke before I did, considering that I average four or five hours a night.
“I like watching you sleep,” he answers, gently reaching for me and pulling me closer. “You’re so calm and serene when you sleep; it’s quite a contrast to when you’re awake.” I share his smile and punch him jokingly on the arm. “Good morning Lizzie,” he murmurs right before he leans in and kisses me on the forehead.
“Good morning Luke,” I whisper back, and, seized by a sudden impulse, kiss him on the cheek. I see his eyes open wide with shock and then his smile get bigger.
“What was that for?” he asks me, sincerely happy and sincerely quizzical. I can’t blame him though; last night I’m telling him that I don’t love him and this morning I’m kissing him, even if it is only on the cheek. It’s definitely quite a contrast.
“I guess you’re growing on me, Mr. Gates,” I tell him, my eyes twinkling as I gaze into his beautiful ice-blue eyes. Oh God, why don’t I love him? He’s handsome and intelligent and loves me and would die for me…
My thoughts are interrupted by Luke leaning in again and kissing me, this time on the lips and, after a few moments, I kiss him back, thinking it’s the least I can do for him. Besides, I’m starting to like kissing Luke, even if it isn’t anywhere near as serious for me as it is for him, since he’s a good kisser. And, yet again, I get to wanting that I could make myself love him, that I could feel the same way about him as he does about me.
“Lizzie, you’re growing on me every second I spend around you,” he utters when he pulls back, his gaze locked on mine.
I give him a small smile, hoping my sadness doesn’t show, and then we just lay there in silence for a few moments, absorbing one another’s company as I think, “What did I ever do to deserve Luke?”
“What do you see in Jackson?” Luke asks, looking over at me as we bathe in the warm sun coming through the window. Even though our horrible victory tour starts today, at the least the weather’s nice.
“I see myself in Jackson,” I reply steadily as I catch his eyes with my own, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Luke brought this up and I would have to face it. When I see that Luke’s expression is quizzical, I elaborate. “I get him, Luke, and I know what he’s going through, and I also know that he needs me badly, and I’m not going to deny him that in his time of need, since I know he’d do the same for me.”
Luke nods, his gaze still very serious even as a grin begins to curl his lips. “So you’re letting your want to love me and your need to love Jackson dictate your relationships, hmm?” Now it is my turn to be confused, since I don’t know where Luke’s going with this. “And so far your need to love Jackson because he needs you is winning. My point is, Lizzie,” he begins, “You’re loving – or hoping to love – Jackson and me because of our situations or how we feel about you. But I think you should actually choose who you love, and not let us decide for you with our pitiful situations. And yes, I know, this means that I could lose you to him for good. But I’m willing to do that if you make your own decision and are happy. All I care about is what’s best for, you, Liz, and if you think Jackson’s better, then I’m not going to question that. I may be incredibly jealous and wish that you had chosen me, but I’m not going to question your decision, because I know that it will be your decision.”
I stare at him in amazement, stunned and truly touched by his words. “How do you do it?” I question again.
“Do what?” he replies, his tone much lighter now as a smile that finally reaches his eyes flits across his face.
“Be so honest and good and nice and amazing when it goes against everything you want, your whole personal agenda.” My gaze is locked on his and I can tell he’s hanging onto every word. “You tell me – and I believe you – that you won’t question my decision if I choose Jackson because it’s my decision when all you want is for me to be yours. So I ask you again: how in the hell do you do it?”
“I already answered that question Lizzie,” Luke tells me, his eyes losing their twinkle of happiness for an intense, smoldering look. “All I want is for you to be happy, and if you’re happy with Jackson, then I’ll be insanely jealous, but I won’t tell you that you could be happier with me. If you’re happy with me, then I’ll get you as well as the knowledge that you’re happy, but either way I’ll get what I want as long as you make the decision on your own.” I lock my gaze onto Luke’s for a long second and realize that his eyes really are windows into his soul, that I will always be able to read Luke by his eyes. And I can tell from his eyes that he’s being utterly and completely truthful.
“That’s still amazing though, that you would give up on being with me if I told you that I would be happier with Jackson.” I shake my head in astonishment, wondering how Luke can care so deeply about me when I’ve never given him any kind of care. “And it makes absolutely no sense from a human want-need-greed perspective.”
“There’s this thing called love that doesn’t care if it makes sense from a want-need-greed perspective. And I’ve been struck with that thing for nearly four years now.” Before I can say or do anything in response, Luke sits up, yawns and stretches, breaking the emotionally charged moment with a return to reality and the fact that we have to get up because, at noon, we’ll be being interviewed by Puck on national television and then will be leaving on a train for Section Eight to have everyone pretend they love us when they don’t even know us.
I rise off of Luke’s bed and walk towards the exit, knowing that they’ve probably given Luke and I especially ridiculous, matching outfits for today. As I reach the door, I turn around just in time to see Luke taking his shirt off.
“See you later Luke. By the way, you’d make quite an impression shirtless, but I think that’s not really the kind of impression you want to make,” I tell him, a smirk flitting across my face as my eyes flick between his torso as his face.
“You should put a longer shirt on Lizzie,” he replies, getting a grin himself as I glance down at my shirt, which shows about two inches of my stomach, “because the only person I want seeing any part of your stomach is me.”
“I’ll do that Luke.” My smile nearly stretching from ear to ear now, I slide through the door, thinking I shouldn’t stay any longer or I’m going to become seriously distracted.

[Sonmi-451]

More added.

“Miss Lightning, you have a visitor,” a voice tells me as I step out of the elevator, a half-eaten piece of toast still in my hand from breakfast. My heart soars, since I think it’s Max talking and I think that Jackson’s my visitor, and then I realize whoever’s talking sounds nothing like Max. My heart sinks when I see who is talking to me and find a guard carrying a machine gun and at least five pistols, and my disappointment is soon replaced by terror and dread. Who on earth would want to talk me that requires four guards – I see the other three as I sweep the room with my gaze – with no shortage of weapons to be watching me at all times. One of the other ones then opens the door to my room from the main room, and I walk in to find myself staring down Prime Minister Rush.

“Miss Lightning,” Rush greets, nodding his head at me and gesturing for me to sit down in front of his desk – well, my desk that he’s taken over. “If we promise to be truthful with each other, this meeting will be a lot less painless.”
“Mr. Rush,” I reply, dipping my head ever so slightly but never taking my eyes off of him. What is El Nieve’s Prime Minister doing visiting me and opening our conversation up with a comment like that? Max never said anything about this, and I get the feeling that this isn’t standard practice. “I’ll be honest with you as long as you’re honest with me.”
“Good.” Rush nods his head in satisfaction and takes a sip from a flask in his hand. “Miss Lightning, I have a problem, a problem that occurred when you and Mr. Gates attempted a double suicide yesterday.” I feel my heart fall through me and hit the floor; this is about the Sections fighting back.
“The Sections are stirring up,” I murmur, my gaze locked on his.
“And do you know why?” Rush asks me, his pitch-black, serpentine eyes eating at my soul like termites as I sniff the air, ever so slightly, and smell, even though it’s masked by the carnation in his lapel, very distinctly, death. Despite everything that Max told me, I shake my head, wondering what Rush’s reason will be.
“Because some of the Sections weren’t convinced that you were really in love and thought that you were simply defying El Nieve.” I will not break my gaze away I will not break my gaze away I will not break my gaze away…
“So, they think, if a seventeen-year-old girl can defy El Nieve and survive, why can’t they? And this, Miss Lightning, is an issue, because if the Sections rebel, everything fails. Our society as we know it is destroyed.” If I were speaking to a man that I didn’t know could kill me instantly, I would have said something about the destruction of society not being a bad thing, but this is Prime Minister Rush, and you don’t talk back to him unless you plan on dying.
“Now, Lizzie, I am going to give you two options. Number one, you work with El Nieve and me and convince the unrestful Sections that you were in love with Mr. Gates and never meant to defy El Nieve. Number two, you don’t work with us and your loved ones pay the price.” I feel rage boiling up in me as I realize Rush is blackmailing me, but then I remember that he’s the Prime Minister of El Nieve and can do whatever he wants. “So, which will it be, Miss Lightning? Choose wisely.”
There is no choice for me here; I have to keep everyone I love alive. Besides, I was already prepared to continue acting after what Max told me yesterday. “I will continue to be in love with Luke and convince the Sections that I was not defying El Nieve,” I tell Rush, hating that I have to do what he says but knowing that my friends and family and Jackson are far more important than I am. The ever-present scent of death, poorly masked by the carnation’s scent, is starting to make my palms sweat and I try to block it out, to no avail
“Good. Then you have three weeks to do as much damage control as possible, starting with the interviews today. If you do not do as much damage control as I deem sufficient, your friends and family members will be punished, so use your time judiciously.” Just as I am about to rise from my seat and leave, not wanting to be in Rush’s presence any longer, he leans forward and whispers to me, “By the way, I know about Jackson, and what you two did right there.” He points with his eyes to the exact spot where we kissed and I feel my head begin to pound as he rises and leaves, taking his guards with him, and I realize, which makes my heart beat even faster, that the scent of death was coming from him.

“Lizzie,” Mitchell greets as I step out of the elevator into the spa. I walk into his open arms and embrace him, breathing in his sweet, cinnamon-tinted scent. “You look remarkable for someone who has just been threatened by the Prime Minister of El Nieve.”
Despite my surprise and sadness, I feel a smile creeping onto my face and pull back to look Mitchell in his dancing chocolate eyes. “How’d you know about that?” I ask him, truly intrigued by his large knowledge of who Rush threatens.
“I saw him enter the center and go up to Eight, and I figured that you and your attempted-double-suicide-salute debacle would be the only thing to draw him this far out into the open.” Now all smile falls off Mitchell’s face, and he looks down at me with sadness and empathy in his eyes. “What did he threaten you with?”
“Eminent doom for all of my family and friends if I don’t cooperate or do as much damage control in the Sections as Rush deems fit.” I shrug like it’s no big deal and even add a yawn into the act, which causes Mitchell to start laughing weakly.
After his chuckles fade away into oblivion, Mitchell tells me, “You know, Lizzie, you really are a survivor and even a savior. You’re so determined to keep your friends and family and yourself alive that you’d pretend to be in love with a boy you don’t know. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know how you do it.”
“I guess that makes two of us then,” I reply, and the room falls completely silent for a moment.
“Lizzie, I see you as a survivor in a world with an acute case of survivor guilt,” Mitchell murmurs, his gaze locked on mine.
“For once, it’s not a good thing to be a survivor,” I mutter, and he shakes his head in confirmation, finding my hand with his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Well, Lizzie, I think we have to get to work now. After all, we have to find some way to get you into another dress.” I smile feebly at him and let him lead me off in the direction of the room with the floor-to-ceiling mirror, wondering how he sends two kids off to slaughter every year.

[Sonmi-451]

More added.

The crowd erupts into cheers and screams as Luke and I take the stage hand-in-hand, him smiling at me with sadness in his eyes and me not even smiling. As I think that we can’t look like a very happy couple, I remember what Rush told me about damage control, and instantly I force a grin onto my face, knowing that the lives of everyone I care about depend on how well I act here and on the victory tour. Eying Puck dubiously, I glance around the stage for a second chair and realize there has only been one provided, so I wait for Luke to sit down and then, without hesitation, lower myself into his lap. Looking down at my dress and tugging at it, I am reminded that today, I am actual lightning. The golden dress I’m wearing flickers and dances in sunlight, giving the appearance that I’m pure electricity, which makes me think that Mitchell is probably one of the most talented people I know, at least when it comes to clothes. I feel Luke’s arms wrap around me and I lean back into him, finding one of his hands with both of mine and giving it a squeeze.
“Well, it’s quite nice to see our favorite couple together at last,” Puck tells us, and the crowd screams in agreement. Luke gives Puck a smile as I sit there, regarding the stage and the spectators with a cold, calculating gaze. Luke and I have already agreed that he is the communicator, the one good with words and that I am the fighter, the warrior, and, because of this, I am perfectly happy to let Luke do all of the public speaking. After all, every time I open my mouth or do something, someone dies or a rebellion starts, so I think it’s in everyone’s best interests if I just shut up.
“It’s nice to be together Puck.” Luke pulls me even closer to him and a small smile flits across my face as I relax ever so slightly. If Luke is here, everything will be all right, because he can make anyone believe anything with just a few words.
“So, Lizzie,” Puck begins, turning to me, “it was very obvious that you did not always feel this way about Luke, and I think I speak for all of us here by asking when you fell for him.” He looks at me expectantly, his wild brown eyes twinkling, and I desperately seek out Mitchell in the stands, knowing that if I speak to him, everything will be so much easier.
“I think that him carrying me to the hospital was when I first felt something for him,” I answer truthfully, my gaze locked on Mitchell, who’s conveniently sitting right behind Puck, the whole time. Of course, what I felt was gratitude and confusion, but the specifics don’t matter. It’s television, and the audience will eat it up either way.
“I thought so.” Puck nods, giving me a smile, and I realize, with a shock, that he’s actually trying to help me. Maybe he knows how bad it is up here. “And, Lizzie, can you tell us what was going through your head when you suggested that double suicide?”
The stands fall completely silent and I take a deep breath, knowing that this is my chance to do a whole hell of a lot of damage control. “I was thinking,” I start, turning to face Luke, “that I couldn’t live without him, that I’d rather be dead than live without him.” I then kiss Luke gently on the cheek, knowing that I just knocked that one out of the park because I was completely sincere. I couldn’t live with myself if I returned home without Luke because I know how much he means to his family and because I couldn’t live with the fact that I couldn’t save him, that I let him die because a committee of old men said he should die. I guess the motives don’t matter as long as I convince everyone that my motive wasn’t rebellion.
“Well isn’t that just wonderful,” Puck chokes, pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket in his suit and dabbing at the tears coming to his eyes. Even if he’s just acting, I’m incredibly grateful, because he just did as much or more damage control as I did by myself. “Now, I have one more question to ask you, Miss Lightning,” Puck finally says after he’s put away his handkerchief and has stopped crying. I meet his gaze to let him know I’m listening as he questions, “So, what was with that salute at the end there?”
I desperately want to answer, “I thought I was going to die, so I figured I might as well go out in style,” but I know that would essentially be anti-damage control, so instead I give the safe reply of, “I was saluting my friends and family, since that’s the salute we use with each other sometimes.” That’s actually true, since that’s what my brothers and I give each other when we’re playing football. After we’ve just embarrassed one another.
Puck nods and gives me a final grin, then turns to Luke. “So, Luke, what was going through your head when Lizzie finally came out and said that she fell for you in the last round?”
Luke looks over at me, his gaze locked on mine, and murmurs, “I was thinking that it didn’t matter if I died in a second, because my life had been made complete. Nothing mattered except for Lizzie at that point.” A small, sad smile creeps across his face, and I feel like crying because I know I’ve caused the pain I see in his eyes.
Puck opens his mouth, as if to say something, then shakes his head, turns to the side, and begins to sob into his handkerchief again. Before I can say or do anything else, Luke leans into me, so close that our noses are touching, meets my eyes for a moment, then kisses me on the lips, his hands working their way up my back and pressing me into him. I think that this is an excellent damage control opportunity as I kiss him back, sitting there with my eyes close for a second after Luke pulls away. I glance over to see a fresh set of tears forming in Puck’s eyes, then look over at Luke and smile. Luke and I rise to our feet and take a bow as the crowd goes insane again, applauding and yelling and throwing us flowers, one of which Luke catches and hands to me. My palms begin to sweat and my heart begins to pound as I smell its sickly sweet scent, but I force myself to look happy and put on an incredibly fake smile. However, once Luke and I have gotten off the stage and back into our rooms, I gaze down at the flower with the hatred it deserves. It’s one of Rush’s carnations, I’m sure of it, and I will not keep it, no matter how much damage control it could do, so I snap my fingers, start a fire in my palm, and feed the flower to the flames slowly, watching with pleasure as the bloom is eaten by the flame. Sparks beat flowers every time.