Post by EMS on Jun 27, 2017 19:59:53 GMT -8
Iain Deseme | District 11 | 14 years old as of the 46th maze
From the time I was born, my life hasn't been easy. Ma and Pa had to help me do so many things. Walking was one of them. I was born with a twisted leg making it nearly impossible to walk on my own. The folks couldn't afford all that fancy treatment to fix the deformity, so I was stuck like this. But my brother, Toby, was always by my side. Helping me. Trying to include me in things. But I couldn't climb a tree. I struggled working in the fields. It all was hard. Ma kept a close eye on me doing everything possible to keep me safe. The kids made fun of me at school. I was just a nobody trying to stick in, and I hated it, but I learned it was me.
Every day was about going through the motions, and it all worked well until I nearly lost my brother to an accident, and ma nearly died from a heat stroke. I don't know how those people were able to bring her back, but they saved her and my brother, and I ain't never gonna be able to repay them because I'm just a boy wanting to live.
I always went to sleep hungry, my stomach growling, the stomach acid eating away at my own skin and muscles. Ribs always visible. Being weak was hard, but I learned to make it through. Even in school, I learned to ignore those around. I didn't have a friend. None of it mattered though because I was me, and nothing would ever change it.
Nighttime stories became my life. Ma and Pa told them, and I'd rest beside my brother. It was a time for us all to be together. A chance for us all to make memories that might be lost. That was all that mattered to me because they gave me a life, they let me live my life how I wanted to.
So much has changed since that day.
I can't unsee the vines slitting her throat. I can't unsee people I cared for dying. Even looking at the fake leg attached to my own hurts more than the world can imagine, but I can run. I can walk. I can do all the things that I never thought possible, yet it came at a price. Her death still haunts me, and I see her when I sleep. When I close my eyes, all I can see is her cannon sounding. I can say all I want that I didn't mean to kill her, but I swung the vines with the intent to keep myself alive.
But I carry myself better.
I keep my hair crisp and clean. I have enough food to last a life time, and I want nothing more than to help out those who are in need. My cheeks are no longer sunken in. I've gained enough weight to keep myself alive. I still walk with a limp as I get used to the artificial leg holding myself up. My clothes are no longer dirty as I have money to buy more and wash the ones I have.
It's strange going from being poor to suddenly having enough money to keep myself alive.
But I'm over it already. I'm tired of everyone staring at me like I'm some sort of celebrity. I keep my head down. My shoulders slouched forward. The ghosts of the past dance before my eyes. People dying. The blood stained water. It's hard to sleep.
Dark bags sit under my eyes, and I often wish I could visit her grave to apologize for slitting her throat, but it just doesn't seem logical. Maybe one day it'll all end, and she'll understand that all I was wanting to do was survive like I did before my name was called.
thomas
