Jair {{ District Six (FIN)

[Deleted]

“You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you.”
― C.S. Lewis

Part of Rook's coma plot honestly
Eighteen
Still don't know if he awake or asleep tho


Thanks Rook for letting me in without knowing the secret passcode

[Deleted]

   J A I R 

_____________________________

My whole life has been built on people never doing what I ask.

My mother gave birth to my sister, and my sister held tightly to the shreds of life she had with her as soon as she came out of the womb. I didn't know that yet, because no one told me just how horrible the pregnancy had gone, just how sick my sister was already, just how little life she had left.

I held her in my arms once, nuzzled my three year old nose against her thirty minute old face, and after I pressed my lips to her forehead, listening to her squirm and whimper in my arms, I asked her one simple question.

"Please, never leave me."

And she cried her life out in my mother's arms two hours later. They told me she had gone someplace better, but the only thing I could bear to even think was that

She had left me.

___________

I told her to "stay with me", with my fingers intertwined with my mother's, watching through teary eyes as life slipped from her body, death ripping her soul to shreds with a scythe, the blood of broken dreams dripping from it's blade.

She didn't even look me in the eyes, just fixed glossy pearls on whatever figure in black stood over her, it's bony fingers snapping and cracking with each motion. And i'd like to think it reached for her throat, tracing a single line across it with bone and flesh.

She coughed once and her blood splattered onto my hand and I screamed for help.

From someone, from anyone. But no one came. And just like that, I realized how much life wasn't worth it.

___________

My father left an open door and my life in a crumpled up paper bag.

Day after my eighteenth birthday, which had been celebrated with an overused, burnt out candle on a deflated, dry cupcake lighting up a room that had hoarded far too many shadows for a single candle to  snuff them out. My present was a sketchy CD that had been salvaged from the remains of someone's past life and a single CD with a blank title.

"Keep this hush hush."

I listened to the song on repeat for the next twelve hours of what I thought my life would consist of. 

He was gone the next day, with footprints tracking his escape route out of our house. A loaf of bread in a paper bag on our kitchen table, with three bills leaning against a bottle of water.

No note, nothing.

And I became an explosive, a tornado of limbs and anger and the next thing I knew the house was in shambles just like my life and the money my father had left burning in the stove, fumes of my father's indecency wafting through the house.

A storm, I was, but every storm comes to an end.

And then came panic and then came tears and then came fumbling for my inhaler with fingers "far too thin" for a boy my age as the nurse had put it.

And then came the realization that nothing was ever going to work out ever again.

And I can say that my memories were touched by the hands of time, because I remember nothing of what I did during my walk from kitchen to bedroom to garage back to the kitchen except for the fact that when I was done, I was wearing a necklace of rope, and the CD my father had bought me was blasting so loud that I could feel my bones shaking from it's noise.

"Keep this hush hush." No, no, I will not.

And I remember feeling as if the music would play so loud that it'd drown out my own thoughts, and as my fingers brushed against the fur of rope and as the song screamed out questions about real life and fantasy and poor boys and not being loved I took what I thought was my last breath and I gripped the rope and tapped my feet to the music one last time and 

Easy come

Easy go

Little High

I let go.

_____________________________

[Deleted]

   L I F E 

_____________________________

I can take, but I can also give.

I am life, eternal and everlasting. And ever since my eyes fluttered open, and my body rose from the acidic puddle that had eaten away every sin and nightmare I had ever experienced I had felt as if nothing could touch me, that I was forever and truly alive.

Wings made of the bed sheets I slept in and a body lighter than any of the air I had ever experienced when I had been alive. My fingers, the too thin fingers radiate a white glow from them.

I smile.

This world is just like how I left it

But the weights have been lifted, and when I breathe my body is lifted from the ground with the motion, and when I close my eyes I see the souls of the damned and I see the souls of the living.

And I used to think there was no difference.

But as I think of her, of them my existence blinks from being and I am transported, teleported to her side, angel dust wings spread out in a room that should be far too small for their span.

But with a motion of my hand I made it bigger.

And she is lifeless, her body a home to insects and death, eyes transfixed still transfixed on those bony fingers that traced a line across her throat  and ripped soul from body.

But this time, as I tilt my head to one side I am not helpless.

There is nothing I can't do, and as I lay one hand on her heart and the other closing eyelids that have been open for far too long, the wings, those weightless wings  on my back flutter once.

I am Life, giver of souls.

And she is alive again, her heart beating and I watch, I watch as the rotted skin gives way to pulsating flesh and  I feel, I feel as her hand locks with mine and as my lips are about to part into a smile that has been waiting too long.

She screams.

And when I turn to see what she's screaming out the wings on my back give way to dust and I watch as the man walks through the doorway instead of out of it.

And it all goes black.

_____________________________

[Deleted]

   D E A T H

_____________________________

I can give, but I can also take.

And it is oh so fun to take.

I see nothing, but I feel everything. I feel the blood running through their veins, I feel an angel's wing's beat and I feel an angel's wings wither and die. I am the catalyst, the destroyer of worlds, and every step I take I feel the grass burn beneath my feet, I feel birds take flight to get away from me and I feel the life rip from someone's body when I cast my glance towards them.

Death is cold and hollow, with fingers of bone and a rusty soul. But the irony of it is,

Death is alive.

And although he does not carry himself on air and although there are no angel wings on his back and although his eyes have evaporated from his head he is still there, walking the world one step at a time.

And whereas life is instantaneous, given on a whim whenever one sees fit, Death takes a little bit longer. It is slow, half because he has no wings to carry him and half because he is in no rush.

Death will come to all, but it just might take a while.

But when it finds you, oh when it finds you.

My mind is a GPS and my body a compass, and I find the man that abandoned me in the corner of a run down apartment, half naked, shivering, and desperate. 

I can't see, but I can smell the urine and sweat emanating from his body, and as my footsteps echo off the walls of his mind it takes every bit of willpower I have not to cackle and laugh as I feel eyes that have seen far too little bore into me.

He is going to scream.

But my fingertips reach him first.

"Hush hush."

And his body becomes rust, before changing states altogether and becoming a puddle of blood and bones, before it lifts from the earth as a gas.

And I can't see, but I can smell.

And it smells like the damned, nothing like earth. And as the smell leaves my nostrils I smile.

I will do this to everyone who has ever hurt me.

I am Death, destroyer of souls. 

_____________________________

[Deleted]

   J A I R

_____________________________

"Shit kid, you were bad."

And just like that, with the single flutter of an angel's wings, with the snap of death's fingers it changes again. And instead of walking the world, or floating or flying I stare at white walls and even whiter bed sheets.

I expect them at any moment to shape and mold themselves, to form to my back and for me to take off into the air to find my mother or my sister or anyone else that I could breathe life into.

And I half expect at any moment for darkness to consume my site, and for the feeling of death to come back to me. 

I wait, for what feels like an eternity of life and death, until the doctor breaks the silence.

"Jair"

I wait.

"You were in a coma for a year and a half."

And in that moment, Life and Death slip away from me entirely.

"Your neighbor complained to peacekeepers about loud music blasting. They found you hanging in the kitchen."

And I am left alone, screaming on the inside and silent on the outside, fingers balled up amongst the bed sheets I lay in.

"Lack of oxygen to the brain. You went into a coma when you got to the hospital."

Others like me, wrapped in bed sheet wings and death drawing lines on their throats.

"This is Solitude, kid. Welcome."

I scream. 

_____________________________

EDIT: All of these tables were mae by the glorious Chelsey. I forgot to put this in and now I feel like a dick.

[Deleted]

Jair Hottun

Eighteen

Awake I guess???

tbh idk if Rook has dibs or not like it's his plot but if like Selena said if you're ready come and get it so idk man you do you and do me too ; )

jfc im going to bed odair goodnight

EDIT: Rook has the dibs

[rook]

Okay, um, where to begin?

Probably one of the best bios I have read, not just for the concept of the character and coma, but for the flawless language and flow. You should be really proud of this. I hope you write him as well as you wrote this bio, because wow.

Accepted.