calder hughes | district ten | fin

[dars]

C A L D E R H U G H E S D I S T R I C T T E N

◼ Ⅱ ▸ You know that feeling you get when you know you aren't wanted? The one where your heart hurts and your fingers feel numb? When your throat closes up and suddenly you kind of want to cry? I get that feeling in my house. My family loves me, I think. My mother died when I was just a child, four to be exact. My father was supposedly a man of hard love even before that, and my brothers are all spitting images of his personality. So, basically, because my own heart wasn't forged from ice and cased in stone, they look at me a lot like they would a sick baby deer. They always have. I think it might be because they want to toughen me up, prepare me for the world. I hope that's why. I think I remember her somewhat, my mother. Long brown hair, caring and warm eyes, sort of like sunsets. Thick lashes and laughing lines. Beautiful. People that knew her claim I look just the same as she did, other than the very tall height and broad shoulders I got from my father. Upon your first impression of me, you'd probably think I was just the same as my brothers with my square jaw and proud eyebrows and my calloused hands, but in truth, I couldn't be any more different from them. For some reason, they treat emotions like diseases, each one having it's own sick, twisted side effects. Each of them think they are immune to them, think it's impossible for any of them to feel anything. As much as I wish I viewed the world like them, I don't. Maybe it's for the best that I care. I'm only sixteen. It seems a bit morbid that I could be like them, scared to care. "Damn it, Calder!" His father scolded him, veins sticking out in his neck and forehead, his face drawn red and his breathing excited. "How many times have I told you how to do this? Huh?!" Young Calder stood in front of an open gate to a field that had been the home of horses until he had closed in incorrectly. "A lot." He sad, disappointment in himself laced in his tone. "You're damn right! Now we have to go track all of them down- again! Come on! I'm not doing it for you!" He did as he was told, and rushed to catch up to the man speeding down the road. "I swear," he spat, staring straight ahead of himself. "I'm sorr-" "Why can't you be like Caster or Conner?" It would have been less painful if his father had stopped in his tracks, turned to his son and kneed him in the gut, and he tried to swallow the pain but it wasn't going away. "Dad, please! I said I was-" "Oh, right, you said you were sorry, so that makes it all better right? Poof, just like that, and everything is just peachy? Does 'sorry' get my horses back in the pasture? No." He gave up trying. He should have long before, years ago even. He could already hear his brothers taunting him when they found out. Telling him all about how he was "So incompetent!" and "A real loser." He hated his life, would have traded with anyone. He would have even been okay with going into the games if it meant getting away from the boys he lived with. Family. That word was nothing more than a joke. A Really, really bad joke. I've always been rather fickle, constantly changing my views so that they match what I feel makes the most sense at that time. Honestly, my opinions change a lot depending on who I am around, making me very dubious. Feeling like an outcast in my own home has sort of given me this need to be accepted everywhere else, and being agreeable seems like the easiest route to take. People think that because I am meek that I am weak, and maybe they are right. "You're so spineless, boy!" "Weak, weak, weak!" Things will be different for me some day, though. Some day I'll be happy. I know it. It might not be tomorrow, or this week, or even this year, but I'm okay with that, because eventually, I'll be free from all of this. Until then, I'll keep fighting. age sixteen lyrics sad song- we the kings codeword odair template by chelsey

[dars]

Finished! Zoe has dibs!^^

[✨ zozo.]

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