a voice from the past [ marzo + marc ]

[Kire]

Marzo Fons-Donner

I found something while going through my brother's things today. It took me some years to finally be able to bring myself to do it. This, more than anything else, told me that he was gone. Even though I had never known him, not really, I could feel his personality in the things he owned - few in number as they might be. Looking over the items, a certain coin caught my eye. I had seen it on him when he died, the glinting coin catching the first of the sun's rays as he died. He had held on to see the sunrise, despite the spear wound in his chest. The girl who had killed him - she had come in second place to my brother's ally, Katelyn - I think her name was Margaret. She had stayed with him as he died and I was grateful to her for that, even if it was her fault that he had died at all.

The Games are a terrible thing, though, and I suppose I shouldn't hold what anyone did in the arena against them. Marchello, after all, had set a boy on fire to die screaming and burning. The look on his face, though, had told me he had never meant for that to happen. Then again, how many tributes could say they really meant for any of it to happen. Aside from Careers, no one wants to get reaped. I know Marc didn't, I know he didn't, especially now that I had known a few of the people he had done his best to take care of. He had tried to come back, for them, and had come so close.

Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, neither of which my brother had.

I keep his coin on me at all times, now, never letting it stray from me. I would like to put it on a chain so that I wouldn't have to worry about losing it, but I don't want to ruin the coin to do that. He had kept it on him while fighting through the bloodbath and all of the other terrible battles he faced, the least I could do was manage to keep it in my pocket in day-to-day life.

The coin was the first thing I was able to look at and to touch without being overwhelmed, even though it is by far the most emotionally loaded thing in the tiny box that holds his stuff. Only now, after so long, was I finally able to sift through the rest of what was there. A pressed flower, a letter from a girl, and a few other knick knacks resided at the bottom. Among them, though, was a sealed envelope. Reaching out, I took it in my hands and carefully turned it to see who it was addressed to. The thoughts racing through my head all asked if it was okay to read through his things. He wasn't able to tell me it was okay, so I had no way of knowing.

Except that the envelope had two words on the front of it: My Family.

My hesitation forgotten, I fought to tear the letter open quickly but without damaging what was inside. The moment I started reading, I could hear my brother as well as if he was standing behind me, reading over my shoulder.

To my family, it read.

[googlefont="Londrina Sketch:400"]

[Kire]

To my family,

I stare at the paper in front of me and I realize I don't know where to start. The last time I had even taken a moment to think by myself, let alone write anything like a letter or - as this could be called - a journal entry, felt like a decade ago. It had been only two years, or maybe it was only two months, but that was more than enough. I ran over all that had happened since I had last sat down and just explained everything to myself, there was too much for just two months - it had to have been about a year. I shut my eyes and leaned back, groaning with the memories of all of it. How long ago I had wished to be trusted with responsibilities, and yet now that I have them I wished for nothing more than relief from them. A year without January, eleven months without February, soon Aibrean and then Julyan disappeared, June had run off, and something happened to October and November. We were a mess. I let the air in my chest out with a heavy sigh. We still are a mess.

It had all started when January left. My pen was poised above the paper, ready to spill the words in my heart onto the white surface - ready to betray me to the world. As I touched the tip down and began to write I thought of his face, and the way he had slammed the door. I had known it had been a long time brewing, but for the life of me I don't remember why I chose to ignore it. I waited too long, and I lost the man who had become as good as a brother to me. He had been screaming, his handsome face contorted in rage at February, spitting insults and curses as he fought to keep himself from striking her. Each yell drew more scared faces to the entrances of the kitchen where they fought. I tried to tell myself to let them be, to wait until it blew over and then help them to talk it over. A stupid mistake. A few moments later and February had a large red mark on her cheekbone. My mouth dropped open and I strode forward. "Woah, hey, Jan that's enough." I grabbed for his fists but he moved out of my reach. Instead, I placed myself between them.

He sneered looking between us as though he suddenly realized something that really didn't like. "Oh I see how it is." He slid forward, arm and finger extended to jab me in the chest. No longer did he feel like a brother, now he felt like a menace and it was all I could do to not step back. "You and her, huh. I should have seen it. I should have known all along." He glared at me, then at Ary, his eyes cold as the month he was named after. "I trusted you, both of you, and now I see what you are - an angry liar and a slut. Why I took you in, even Ripred doesn't know." His hand clenched back into a fist and I readied myself for the blow, but it never came. He was taking a step back from me, frosty eyes never leaving mine. "Well I'm done. I'm done being father to a bunch of worthless rats, I'm done being used and ignored and fought with. I'm done with you," he made a motion to all of the faces peering in as well as Ary and me. "all of you." As I looked around to view my family - or as close to that as makes no difference - I knew that his words had cut them as deep as they had me. However, I also knew that I was the only one able to stand up for us all.

As January stepped back I stepped forward, holding a distance too close for his comfort. "Go then, if you want to so badly. Leave." My hackles were up, my shoulders raised as I took on a stance similar to a bear. I didn't want this to end in a physical fight, but if it had to I would be ready. "Screw off." Jan took another step back and I mirrored him, moving forward once again to keep pressing him closer and closer to the door. He would leave, if he wanted out so badly then he could go. I didn't want him around if he was just going to be like this. "Walk out." The rage in his face contorted into a pained expression before he mastered it again. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what he was going to do. "This is my house. I should be the one kicking you out." I crossed my arms, trying to be as imposing as I could. "If you say so." My words offered no resistance, but my tone implied a hefty challenge. It wasn't something Jan could face. He took another step back. "Good luck living without me, if the Peacekeepers find you they'll ship you all off to an orphanage." It sounded like a threat, but I knew it was an empty one - even January, as angry as he was, wouldn't rat us out to the uniforms.

I just nodded, as if agreeing with him. "Yes, they might. But you forget that I'm almost nineteen, and Ary actually is nineteen. We're legal adults." Seeing he wasn't going to get anywhere with me January did the first smart thing he had done in the past hour - he turned and left. The slam of the door seemed to shake the whole house and I heard more than a couple sniffs from the watching crowd. I tried to relax my form, show them it was okay and that I was okay and it was over. I wasn't sure how convincing it was. It took us all a while to settle back into our old ways, at least as much as we could with January gone. February and I were now in charge of making the money, though the younger ones did their best. Ary had to go out for her "second job" more often than I would have liked, and each time she would come home sleep-deprived and unhappy the next morning I would feel a pit of worry growing in my chest. I know some of the others had figured out exactly how we managed to keep the money up, but they thankfully kept quiet about it. At least until February didn't come home one morning.

I didn't panic that morning, but I did know that the small pit that had been in my stomach suddenly expanded into a hole large enough to swallow me. I fought to stay above ground and keep everyone else blissfully unaware. It had been a mere month since January had disappeared and the last thing we needed was another shake up after things were finally finding their old rhythm. Under the guise of a shopping errand I went out in search of Ary, desperate to find her but forced to stay silent in my search. I pushed my time as much as I could before buying a loaf of bread and returning home. However much I didn't want to call it a night, I couldn't leave the younger ones forever - the first thing they would do was ask questions, and then they would try to help and get themselves into trouble. I couldn't to lose anyone else.

She didn't turn up the next morning, and I really began to worry. I contemplated going to the peacekeepers, but with me being still under nineteen I couldn't put the group of us at risk to be taken to an orphanage and split up. It would be the last thing we'd need. I had to find her, but I didn't know how. She never turned up no matter how long I searched or where. Eventually I knew I wouldn't find her, or if I did it would still be a sad ending. I had to accept that I was now the sole caretaker of this group, and because I wasn't going to be nineteen for another year I wouldn't be able to protect the others from being taken to an orphanage.

We never heard from her again. I haven't seen any sign of her or heard any word of - you don't know how hard this is to think about - of a dead girl being found. She is lost to us, and I can only hope that she is living somewhere else now, happy and content, and that maybe she might spare a thought for us now and again. Perhaps that's a bit selfish of me, but she had been part of my family for so long that the thought of her forgetting about us - about me - is hard for me to accept.

I thought that this might be the end of our troubles, but I wasn't even close. We had lost January, and then February. For almost two months things were as normal as they could be. Then Aibrean vanished. She went out for a walk one day, her head full of flowers like usual, and I wished her well. Normally, she would be gone for most of the day, or sometimes she would stop in during lunch to deposit the flowers she had gathered before they dried and withered. Due to work, I wasn't home over lunch so I don't know if she stopped in then. Either way, when I got home and noticed there weren't any flowers sitting in Aibrean's favourite pot - we had scrounged this for her as we could never afford a vase - I became concerned. I waited in view of the door for most of the night, eventually falling asleep at the table that I sat at, without any sign of her.

Waking in the morning, I immediately asked if she had returned home last night, perhaps I had missed her entering. All I saw were shaking heads. October said he thought she had been home all day. Worry struck me again and I could feel the same sinking sensation that had taken over me when February had gone missing. Just like two months previous, I searched as much of the District as I could. I took it upon myself to find Aibrean because I couldn't fail her like I had failed February. The truth is, I failed more than just February and Aibrean, I failed all of you. I can't express how sad this makes me.

Like February, Aibrean never turned up. I was distraught by the end of the third unsuccessful day of searching. Over those days I barely got six hours of sleep total, only letting myself rest long enough to keep going and nothing more. Eating was done on the go, and I was barely at home during that time. I had prayed that nothing would happen while I was away, and thankfully nothing had. If the Peacekeepers had found you all before I had returned I would have been devastated. Even now, even after everything that has happened, I still kick myself for putting you at that much risk.

I keep going over the last things those two had said to me. February, always intending to take care of all of us like a mother, had argued with me shortly before she had left. "Marc, I need to do this. I know you hate when I do this work but we need the money if we're going to survive without January's wage." I had rebutted, saying that she could find another job. "Nothing pays as good as this does, and you know that. I'll be fine, you need to stop worrying so much." Apparently I had been more than right to worry, but February isn't around to admit it - and I would never say "I told you so" to an empty grave. I suppose I will be joining her soon, if she is dead. Aibrean too, because Ripred knows that that girl could walk herself off of a cliff when her head is somewhere else.

Aibrean had been mostly silent the morning before she disappeared, barely acknowledging my farewell to her until she was right at the door. She turned around and smiled at me, waving faintly at me. "I'll bring you a flower, Marc. I'll bring you one that suits you." I laughed and smiled and suggested that perhaps a bramble vine would be the best match for me. She kept smiling and shook her head. "A flower, Marc." With that, she left, and I had to get ready for work.

In a way similar to the time after February's disappearance, there was a month of normality - or as much as we could get - before the next problem arose. June, always a bit distant and somewhat stubborn, slammed the door to her room in the face of anyone who tried to talk with her. She locked herself in, eventually only opening it to slip to the bathroom when she thought people weren't looking or to grab the food that we left in front of her door. There wasn't any clear reason for her behaviour, which troubled me all the more about it. Perhaps she was tired of losing people, or afraid of being taken - our explanation for February and Aibrean being missing - or something that I couldn't have thought of.

Everything came to a head the day June burst out of her room with one small packed bag clutched to her chest. Rushing, like she was afraid of getting caught, she beelined for the door. I barely got in the way in time and she immediately brought her fists up against my chest and pounded me. "Get out of the way!" I tried to gather her wrists with my hands but she kept wrenching them free and striking at me - I had bruises that stayed for a week. "I want to leave, let me go!" Eventually, she kicked me. At first it was a blow to the shin, but then the kicks began to get higher until I had to shift to avoid a shot to the groin. Grumbling about fussy, aggravating girls, I tried to get her to settle down. When she struck me in the thigh, too close for my liking, I gave up. "What the hell is wrong, June?" I placed myself securely in front of the door, not about to budge until she explained.

She relaxed slightly, but only slightly, still glaring at me and gripping her pack. "I'm done," her voice was harsh and final, "I'm done with all of it. I'm tired of this family." She shoved against me, trying to knock me out of the way. "I want out." She hit me again, and this time I gave a bit. "Why?" It was all I could think to ask. Why did she want to leave? Why did things keep happening to dwindle this group of ours? I worried that I would be left alone having failed every last one of you. I guess I am alone now, but I can hope that you don't think of me as having failed - especially when I don't come back. Don't argue, I know that I am not cut out to win.

June didn't have an answer for me, just another blow to land on my torso and my emotions. I was growing weary of trying to resist. "Please, June, please don't do this. We need you here, we can't lose anyone else." She shook her head, frustrated with me beyond words. "Stop thinking about yourself. I'm not doing this to hurt you, I'm doing it for me." With one final shove she knocked me aside far enough to grab the door handle and turn it. "Don't come after me." With that, she thrust the door open and squeezed under my arm to rush out into the street without a glance back.

Because I wanted to honour her, even if I thought she was being stupid - and because I didn't want to go through the heartbreak of not finding yet another person - I didn't go looking for her. I hope you don't hold that against me. I was just tired of people continually slipping through my grasp. I didn't want to try and get a grip of her again just to lose her once more. She wouldn't come back if I tracked her down, I was sure of that.

When, a couple weeks later, Julyan told me he was leaving to track down January, I just about gave up. I let him go with much less fuss than June, only telling him that if he wanted to he could always come back. I told him I would even consider taking January back in, if he was wanting. Julyan had scoffed at me, "That's only because everyone listened to January, and no one listens to you. You can't even make enough money to feed all of us - or what's left of us." His words struck me hard, especially since those thoughts had, in fact, been running through my mind as I was speaking to him. I just shook my head at him and slumped down on the desk. "Go, then. At least it'll be one less mouth to feed."

I shouldn't have given up on him. I'm sure now that I could have convinced him to stay if I had tried. He had always looked up to January, but if I had only given him the attention that he wanted he might have stuck around. Perhaps, though, it was all for the best. I can't take care of any of you now, and Julyan's craving attention would have eaten through all of my energy reserves as well as yours, I suspect. So, in one way I'm sorry, and in another way I was just so tired of trying to fix a broken thing that I simply let the pieces get swept away. I can only hope that I am the last piece to vanish.

If my heart had broken over the others that had gone, it was nothing compared to the heartache I felt over October and November. The two boys, young and foolish still, were out in the street and had attempted to steal a few things - food mostly. I was down the street trying to actually purchase food rather than stoop to thievery, just close enough to keep an eye on them but too far to do much if something happened. Then something happened. The store owner caught October stuffing an apple into his pocket and November taking a bite out of a loaf of bread. Furious, he shouted for the Peacekeepers. I was still not nineteen yet - it was still another few months until then - and so I couldn't do anything as two Peacekeepers grabbed the two boys. If I were to confront them, there was every chance that I would be punished for their crimes, and they would still be sent to the orphanage. I hated doing it, you have no idea how much I hated doing it, but I turned away from the scene and walked away after completing my purchase.

I didn't do it just to save my own skin - which I would have for them in a moment - I did it for you guys. If I was taken away and the Peacekeepers did who knows what to me I wouldn't have been able to bring you food or to take care of you. Fat lot of good it did, what with how things are now, but at the time I took what solace there was in knowing that I could save you if I couldn't save them. Besides, the orphanage isn't the worst thing. It's bad, but they won't starve there. Once they're old enough they'll be released to live as adults. Perhaps they'll come back, or perhaps they won't because they'll never forgive me for walking away.

By the time you're reading this, I'm probably dead, so they don't really have the excuse of avoiding me anymore.

They had yelled to me, you know, trying to get me to come and help them. "Marc," October had cried, "Marc please!" I had hunched my shoulders and kept walking, pretending like I didn't hear him. If I showed that I knew them, the Peacekeepers would take me along with them. I had to be indifferent, I had to ignore them. "Marc?!" I heard November, just barely but I heard him. "He... he has to go, Toby." I was on the brink of tears when I entered the house. Depositing the food, I sat down at the table alone and cried for the first time in years. I was a horrible person for turning away from them, and nothing I could say would forgive that. Perhaps being reaped is my punishment for all of my failures and misdeeds. They say no one really deserves to be reaped, but I think I may have.

I sit here, writing this letter while sitting on moth-eaten velvet cushions and looking at the finest decor I have seen in my life. The Justice Building is not built for comfort, even though they like to pretend that it is. I'm glad you guys didn't come to see me; I don't think I could have taken that. Being able to just write this letter and explain everything is enough for me. I only hope that it will be found, even if it's five years from now. This, I suppose, is my goodbye to all of you. It is, also, my confession. Perhaps I will be able to continue on knowing that I have finally told someone of what I have done, and what I wish I could have done.

So, I am the final one to go missing. I want to be the last one to leave that house and never return. I beg you to take in more kids who are in dire straights like we all were before becoming a family. Please, make up for what I lacked. I'm sorry I couldn't have done better by all of you. Forgive me?

Your brother,
Marchello Donner

[googlefont="Stalemate:400"]

[Kire]

Marzo Fons-Donner

Your brother, Marchello Donner, he had written. The last words he had ever written were the four that hurt me the most. He hadn't even known about me, just like I had never known about him. The fact that he had had others that he considered as siblings but never me was hard to take. Perhaps, like he had feared of himself, I was being selfish. I had learned of my brother just in time to watch him die and I wasn't even able to tell him that I existed. Instead, I now sit here with big stupid tears in my eyes as I read about the last year of my brother's life.

I hate my mother for hiding him from me. If anyone had been selfish, it had been her. She let me go for so many years thinking I was an only child just so she could avoid the marriage she had left behind. I had lost out on a brother that I could have loved and who could have loved me all because she was too ashamed of her past. Was she ashamed of Marc, now? Was she ashamed of me, now? He had died in the Games and I had run away. I hope I left her with the same empty feeling that Marc's death had left me with.

Clutching the letter to my chest, I bowed my head over it. I took a moment to sit and let the tears fill my eyes before angrily wiping them away. Marc had said that he had cried after watching October and November being taken away by the Peacekeepers, but I wasn't strong enough to let myself cry. I had to earn that, and I hadn't earned that yet. Marc, though, was not the failure that he thought of himself. I wish I could tell him that. I wish I could let him know who I am and that I didn't blame him for anything he had written about. Marc had gone through so much more in his life than someone should have to deal with, that was nothing to apologize for.

All I could do was what he said at the end of his letter "I beg you to take in more kids who are in dire straights like we all were before becoming a family." The others had taken me in, so the least I could do was pass on the aid. After all, it's what Marc wants.

[googlefont="Londrina Sketch:400"]