Landon Mink | District Five {FIN}
Jan 11, 2017 10:25:33 GMT -5
Post by kap on Jan 11, 2017 10:25:33 GMT -5
Landon Mink
"When I knock you down, you stay down, okay?" he whispered harshly to me as he kicked me once more. Fate never liked me. Fate had landed me with the cruel individual that was my own brother. Emerson never bothered to keep it a secret from my parents that he beat me while they were still alive, and he certainly doesn't try to keep it a secret from anyone now, either. I live with just him, and he causes the bruises and scars that are on my body every day. Even if I were to try to punch him between the eyes, I wouldn't do any damage. He always fights back, and he's always been stronger than me. I've never even knocked him down once, but he always lands me on the ground.
"You're useless and pathetic. I hope you get reaped and die in the Hunger Games. Someone should kill you. You deserve it," his voice hissed at me. Perhaps that's why I hate myself so much. I've never been very self-confident, but he certainly doesn't help that fact. I don't know why Emerson hates me so much, but I think it may be due to our parents never really giving him much attention, despite him being three years older than me, therefore having been around a bit longer than myself. At this point in my life, I want one of us to be in the Hunger Games. I know it sounds terrible, but for the torture to be over, one of us would just have to die.
"When will you learn that no one likes you?" he demands. I try to dodge his next punch, but it connects with my nose, breaking it. It never did heal properly. Some days I wish that, if I can't go into the Games, someone will just shoot me dead or turn me into an avox. Perhaps that's why I do such risky things around the District. I've been whipped a few times for stealing or for confronting a Peacekeeper rudely, but they've never sent me to the Detention Center or turned me into an avox. I just wish they would. It would get my away from this torture of living with my brother.
"Why are you so weak?" the next blow is a kick to the stomach. I've given up trying to defend myself. It's not worth it, and I'm much smaller than Emerson. He's over six feet tall, and I'm only five foot nine. I don't weigh anything close to him, and he has a much more athletic build than I do, no matter how much I try to beef myself up so I can actually stand a chance against him. Some people wouldn't even think we're related, with how different we look. My blond hair is such a light color compared to his much darker, brown hair. Our eye colors are different, and he has a darker complexion than I do. Some people don't even believe me when I say that we're related. I wish that we weren't.
"How can anyone love you?" It's not just my strength he makes fun of, either. He tells me that I'm unattractive, and that girls never date me for my looks, or my personality. He insists that they date me out of pity, because I'm such a pathetic individual. I've started to believe him. That's just another thing I hate about myself. Some days, I'll be out, wandering the District, and I just feel like blowing up on people because of how much I hate both Emerson and myself. I want to ask people why I deserve what is happening to me in life. I'm like a landmine, waiting to explode, but I get defused at the last second, barely managing to hold myself back.
"I guess I'll leave you be, for now," are words I only hear on occasion. He always comes back, though, just to beat on me again and tell me what a worthless individual I am. Luckily, there are some people in my life that treat me well, such as my parents, even if they don't try to stop Emerson's cruelty. They tell me I have to do my best, and are always encouraging me. Although, I don't do well under pressure. If I feel like I have expectations to live up to, it drives me crazy. I'm a danger to myself and everybody else in that sort of situation. I'll break down and end up doing irrational things, possibly hurting myself or someone else in the process, whether or not that ends up as an accidental part of whatever happens.
"Why do you still wear this stupid thing around your neck?" Emerson teases me as he yanks me off the ground by my necklace that I almost always wear. It's an old key on a metal chain. The key came from my best friend's house, but it's so worn down that the edges are dull and it can't even unlock the door anymore, much less be used to defend myself against my brother as a weapon. I still wear it, though, as it reminds me that there is a safe place for me at my friend Eagle's house, should I need to go there. He and the rest of the Elsu family said that if I ever needed it, they'd take me in, despite how poor they are.
"I can't wait for the day where you finally burst," he sneered at me. He wants to see me explode in rage. It's likely because he wants to just see if he can beat me down again when it happens. That is, if I let it happen. If I do let it happen, would he beat me down like before, or would my rage give me enough strength to fight back and win? I don't want to be his punching bag anymore.
