Randy Ely-Nevis | Wanderer {FIN}

[kap]

Randy Ely-Nevis
"Break away from everybody. Break away from everything."

Family meant everything to me, back in District Nine. Well, family does still mean everything to me, but I can't see them anymore. I was framed for murder, and the people thought I was a cold-blooded, heartless killer. They were wrong, and my family and I knew that. It was true, however, that there was no way to prove myself innocent, no matter how innocent I was. I wouldn't let myself be punished for a crime I didn't commit, though. I had to get away, and the only way to do this was to flee the District. I would have to run away, leaving my family behind.

My daughter looks a lot like me. Her blonde hair and light colored eyes are like mine, and that makes me glad. I enjoy having someone who takes after me, even though I can't see her anymore. As a child, I was always told I looked like my father, and I loved hearing it. Eventually, I even started growing facial hair like him, making our resemblance even more similar. He's gone now, but I still love him, even in death.

I wish I had a way to know how my family was doing. As an extremely caring person, it worries me that I don't even know if my own daughter is safe from the Hunger Games. I suppose I never will know, which really crushes me. Safety for my family is something I can never be sure of, and certainly no longer control. It makes me feel like a terrible father for leaving, but I couldn't let myself be arrested and punished for a crime that wasn't my own. My family agreed that it was best for me to run away, so that's what I did.

Years in the past are still part of my memory, and I can recall my rough hands feeling the smooth skin of my daughter when she was born. Jeune; my pride and joy. She was precious to me, and still is. I sincerely hope that nothing bad ever happens to her, which is something I constantly worry about. I was always told I worry too much. Panicking is something I probably do much too often. I worry that Peacekeepers will find and arrest me for escaping the District, or for the crime I didn't commit, no matter how well-hidden I am. I worry that my family is in danger, for any reason, and that I have no way of helping them. My panic attacks are a downfall of mine, as they often deterred people from me back in the District, of which said I needed to calm down and stop worrying about everything, because it was starting to annoy them.

Despite being full of worry and fear quite often, I still do have some confidence in my abilities to survive in the wilderness. I've been doing it for a while now, and I believe I've done quite well. My makeshift homes aren't constructed without thought, as I always make sure that they are not only good shelter, but that they're well-concealed so as not to be found by anyone else who's not supposed to discover them. As a child I always loved building things, which is perhaps why I've become talented at it at this point in my life. Hopefully, I can continue to have these abilities and not lose my touch as I age.

I've always been sure that I could defend myself, should someone or something decide to attack me at any given time. I have a rather large build, with a bit of muscle mixed in, and I'd say that I'm quite strong. I'm not exactly quick, due to my lack of agility and unevenly sized feet, with one being bigger than the other by quite a bit. Regardless, I would still say that I would be able to win in a fight against quite a variety of people if I needed to. Hopefully, though, that day will never come that I have to take someone down with my strength.

My parents were always kind to me, growing up, and I think that's why I've become a kind person myself. They always made sure I was safe, and I'm sure that, had they been alive when I was framed for murder, they would have tried to help get me out of it. Unfortunately, they're gone, so nothing more could be done than already was. As a child, I always tried to behave myself. Of course, everyone goes through some sort of rebellious stage, which I did when I was young. Now, at age forty, I'd still consider myself a bit of a rebel, breaking the rules by living outside the Districts.

As my scarred hands with jagged nails grip my makeshift spear, I ready myself to hunt. I hate having to kill my own food, but it's how I have to survive out here. There's nothing I can do differently, as it's really the only way I can live. Sure, I can eat plants and such, but I'm not good at recognizing what's safe, so it's best to hunt instead. I hope that at some point in the near future, I can receive assurance that I'm doing the right thing by being out here rather than facing time for a crime I didn't commit. For now, though, I have to wonder if abandoning my family to save myself was the right thing, even though I had their support.

[Deleted]

into the wild realness, great work!