Post by Ailera on Oct 12, 2014 8:23:04 GMT -5
------------My name is Wren. I don't think its that hard of a name, but everyone manages to misspell and mispronounce it anyways. I'm from District 1, and don't you think it would be cool to be from a different district? One is kind of bland. I'm twelve, if you didn't know. I don't like twelve.
-----And the stars are falling from the sky-----
I could dress nicer if I wanted to, but I don't want to. I told you, I don't like District 1, which includes everything to do with it. Such as looking nice. I think something lower would be more interesting. That, and I really don't care about keeping up with myself. I change my shirt, which is usually just one of two shirts I own. Dark green and light green. Either way, you won't see it, because I like my jacket. The outside is scratchy, so no one wants to steal it, but the inside is really comfortable. I've always had the jacket, and its a little big, so I know I'll still fit it for a long time. Since its old, and I don't bother to wash it or even take it off when I sleep, there are torn places all over it, and only one of the original buttons is left. Someone keeps replacing the buttons. I can't figure out who yet. I have a hat, but I only wear it when I go out with a purpose. I only go out with one purpose. Its my food hat.
I bet you wonder if I wear the jacket when its hot outside. Of course I do, why wouldn't I? I sure get sweaty, though. Sometimes I get really hot, and I go blind for a few seconds. Drinking water helps. I'm covered by a thick layer of dirt and grime, and I'm sure no one would approach me if I screamed for help. There's old scars on my legs and my back, some of them are small but some of the ones on my back are kind of ugly. I don't care that I'm disgusting, though, I like it. I don't want anyone near me. My teeth are gross too, because they are dark. If I put my nail on them I can get some grainy stuff off of it. Sometimes they hurt and fall out, though. I've lost five teeth that won't grow back yet. I think they'll grow back. Hopefully.
Since I try so hard not to be particularly good looking, I try not to do things that could make me look like I'm from District 1. When I lived with Cabe, he said there was something wrong in my head if I didn't like eating. I like eating, but I don't want to. There are a lot of things I don't want to do, so I simply don't. I don't dress nice, I don't eat, and if I'm lucky I can stay awake for a really long time. I think I eat every few days something, until I can't stand it anymore. Then I eat myself sick and have to throw it back up. There's only one thing I really like to eat. Then I know to get my stomach ready for it.
I'm short, too, I guess. Cabe said it was my fault, but I don't care. I don't mind being short right now, if I can be average later. I don't care if my head is big, or my sunken eyes are like blackish green moons. I want to feel sick all the time, because its really very fun. I have blonde hair, but some of it falls out if I run my fingers through it. I have ugly hands, they are too knobby and my nails are too short, like my toes, too. I try not to do that, since its so knotted. It kind of hurts, actually. I cut it occasionally, but it makes my hair look funny when I do that. I'm wondering what would happen if I grew it out. Trying that would make me look like a girl though, and I do not want to be mistaken for no girl.
I have to tell you something nice now, don't I? I can't describe how hard that's going to be. I don't want to tell you my good part. I keep that part secret. I got nice legs. The shape of them, I mean. Maybe its from my running, or my being a bad boy, because I think bad kids get nice legs. Maybe my diet does it for me. I don't know, but I know good legs when I roll up my small old pants and see them. Even Cabe said they were pretty.
----------And the wind I know it's cold----------
I stay out of the way right now, but I always plan ahead. I know what I'm going to do tomorrow, and I know what I'm going to do next week. Things rarely change from my plan, and if they do I'm not too happy about it. I don't bother with keeping up with myself because I genuinely want to be from a lower district. I think it would be cool. I act like I'm really poor sometimes. I run around, so I can make myself tired, and maybe I'll get a headache. I set myself up to trip, because its fun to slide into a puddle. Because of who I live with, I usually have food available, but I avoid it. I pretend I'm starving, and even when I really am I pretend I'm even hungrier. When I eat, I let my food wiggle in my hands for a few seconds. I watch it take deep breaths. My favorite part is when its little chest goes up and down. Up and down. When its head is in my mouth, I squeeze the little wiggling body. I bite gentle so I can rip it off. I don't swallow that part. I spit it out and save the body for later. Then I can wait until I'm really hungry, so I can cry until my arms quiver and I can't stand to not eat it any more.
I don't cry when I eat my favorite food. I know when its going to be available. I watch my housemates carefully, so I know when they are at their most dangerous point. Once I know its coming, I take better care of myself. I wait until that beautiful body is dead and gone, then I run in after them. I'm quiet, and I'm quick, so I don't get caught. I never take much. Maybe a little off the back, or some from the thighs if the person probably won't be found for a while. I'm good with a knife. Really. Good enough to eat flesh that makes me strong, so when I'm older I can be the scariest person in my district. I will go from rags to infamy, and no one will hurt me, because I will hurt them first.
I like being the sneaky one. It makes me feel secure. I love knowing there are little people inside of me. Even when I feel nothing in there, I don't feel so lonely when I think that some of my strength comes from a person. A person who must love me for letting them stay inside of me. I love being loved, and I used to get angry when people didn't look at me. Now I don't care if they stare at me or ignore me, because someday they will fear me. For now I can go on with my little boy game with the animals, just to scare them a little. Its good attention, I think. I love warning, and hidden messages. Hinting without completely giving away is one of my greatest skills.
Can I tell you a secret? Of course I can, it isn't like you can tell anyone. I think I might be a little bit lonely. Just a little bit. I try not to think about it, but when I'm sitting on the floor, trying really hard not to fall asleep, it crosses my mind. No one wants to look at me. During the day, I love it. When its dark, though, I begin to feel it. No one is afraid me yet, but I know they can sense my potential. I don't know if anyone knows for sure what I do, but I know plenty of people who suspect it. Definitely those I live with, but they wouldn't mind, would they? Maybe it isn't others that make me feel lonely, but myself.
I am not good at talking. I whisper think things to myself all the time. I have conversations with the animals before I eat them, or even when they're tucked into my coat. I like to talk to them. The problem is my mouth, because it is so slow. I can't make my jaw keep up with my voice, or my tongue keep up with my jaw. When I'm upset, I groan, when I'm angry, I groan. When I need something, I have to bark out the words with force or all I get is a muffled whine.
-----------For the day I will surely die-----------
I don't know my parents. Cabe said my mom died and my dad gave me to him. I don't care, unless I'm alone. I only care about things when no one is around to hear me cry. My last name is still the same as my dad's, but I've never met another Paul so I don't think I have met him. Either way, Cabe raised me for a while. We lived in a regular house, and while he served as my dad he wasn't affectionate. Actually, he was kind of cold. That was okay, I used to love only to play by myself. When school started, I got angry if someone tried to play with me. I don't want anyone to disrupt me.
I know I remember learning about other districts when I was six. I felt like it was strange that no one was tougher than the career districts. How about those people outside all the time? Climbing, lifting, and running around constantly? I knew District 1 was big on training, but our strength was learned, not natural like theirs seemed to be. I started telling Cabe I wanted to move to District 7. I claimed to love green, and pointed out every tree we passed - pretending to be knowledgeable about it in hopes he would try to move us there. Eventually I began to irritate him and he taught me to shut my mouth. Sometimes I still feel the tar tearing out most of my baby teeth, and ripping off parts of my inner cheek. I still can't talk right after that.
I was angry at Cabe. So I angry I wanted to really get him. I knew he had some ferret in his room he loved very much, and he would never let me play with it. That was when I decided to wait until he left for his job to sneak into his room through a window. I took that nasty ferret and squeezed him tightly. I didn't get to kill him because he bit my hand - he did! I swear he deserved what he got next. I put him on the bed and squished him with my knee. Then he was tired. I watched him squeak, but he couldn't get away. Quickly, I shoved his nasty little head in my mouth and pulled as hard and fast as I could. I thought I liked that blood a little. It tasted like Cabe, and it tasted like getting back at him. I couldn't chew that head, so I spit it on the pillow.
Cabe got home late, so his ferret was smelly when he got home. He came in the kitchen and cooked it up, and he tried to make me eat it. At first I wouldn't, but when Cabe went to bed I picked up my dinner and ate it up. Then I really liked it. After that, I wouldn't eat anything he gave me except those little things. Rats worked. Birds were better. The neighbor's rabbit was absolutely thrilling. When Cabe tried to stop me, I refused to eat. I found that was fun, too. I could imagine I was a poor guy from District 7. I didn't need food. I was tough.
Sometimes I was a little less than tough. When I was seven, the house caught on fire. It might have accidently been my fault. I lost a lot in that fire, though. Lots of blankets. When Cabe ran back to see what was happening, he was so angry. Then he really yelled at me, and it made him angrier I couldn't answer him. Then we went to live with his sister, who was sweet but really stupid. I liked to be sneaky and trick her a lot. When I tricked too much, Cabe took me to his room to beat me. Its just too bad he found out how much I liked it. It made me feel tough when I didn't cry, and it made me feel tingly and almost ecstatic when I did. Then he thought cutting me would work, but then he had to stop. The more ways he tried to punish me, the more I came to realize I just loved being vulnerable. I loved to be hungry. I loved to be tired. I loved when those little animals wiggled around in my hands - and I was powerful one.
Cabe's sister didn't like me after I tricked her too many times. She began to complain to Cabe about me, and sometimes she would make things up about me. I didn't mind being beaten up, but did care what Cabe thought of. Suddenly I was a "horrible little boy." I wanted to be a great boy, but I'd show them. As soon as I was tired of them I walked right out the front door, waved goodbye, and left. They didn't even chase after me. I was a little surprised by that, but I chose not to mind. I could make it on my own, anyways, wasn't I a great tough boy? At least, that was what I thought. When I was hungry, I caught a little animal. If I stood in certain places people would be sick, and sometimes vomit. If I stood in other places, people were amazed, and I got money, or what I liked even better, ahhs. I love ahhs.
I think I might have had a cold some time after I turned nine. I just felt unwell, and my stomach hurt more than the usual dull ache I always had. I realized I was really hungry. I only ate when there were people around to ahh for me, and I couldn't stand being hungry anymore. I stumbled around, but every time I saw something to eat it scurried away before I could catch it. I was desperate. I didn't want apples, or cheese, or bread. I wanted my man making meat. I found that in an alley. He wasn't really smelly yet - he was just cold. I watched him close his eyes, so I knew he was fresh. I didn't feel guilty when I took that bit off his thigh with Cabe's knife, I felt proud. I did what I needed to do to survive - I was definitely a man now. With his strength in my stomach I knew I could fight anyone.
Maybe not everyone. There were other kids who ran away from home and didn't get caught by peacekeepers. I tried to fight with them, but for some reason my arms always gave out before I could really get into a fight. I had bruises all the time. I thought that was nice. If I lost a fight, I ignored that voice in the back of my mind telling me not to eat until I was strong. I went right on ahead and ate my animals. When I found them, I might eat a little of those men that gave me their power. I couldn't see why I wasn't getting stronger. I still can't.
When I was ten I met some weird people. One of them caught me when I was doing my head biting trick, and they told me I was a good fit for their party. There were all sorts of crazy people in that place they took me. I liked them, though. I knew they had something. All I needed to do was follow them and I could go straight to that body they provided - my pretend food - the food that didn't really count as food, because it made me stronger. Real food doesn't make people strong, right? As long as I did my animal trick enough to satisfy other people's curiosity, I could find all the strong meat I needed. I won't do it too often. Eating too much is bad for me.
Eating isn't good for strong boys.
Strong boys don't need food.
Strong boys only need things that make them tough. Like beatings and loneliness and good, strong boy meat.
2865 wo
