D1 { Autumn Flinn } FIN.

autumn flinn.

I built my life like my bike on a rigid frame
So nothing bends it only breaks into pieces and pieces
I waited for hope to arrive but it never came
Leaving me with only pain inside
I'm going off the deep end

( N A M E ) Autumn Flinn
( A G E ) Nineteen
( D I S T R I C T / A R E A ) One
( G E N D E R ) Male

( A P P E A R A N C E )

Autumn holds himself at the height of 5’8’’, and although he isn’t overly tall his height has given him enough of an advantage to intimidate people and to scare enough bullies away that his appearance has not been hindered by unnecessary scarring. Even though he was not as tall as many other boys his age he held himself in such a way that made up for the lack of height. There was always a tense, proud set to his shoulders; it was a part of him that he had gained living with his parents. The proud family he had lived with was enough to cause him to carry himself with that same dignity. I’m not sure that same pride lingers within my blood, perhaps I gave it up when I gave my family up. It was a look that only ever seemed to fail when he was under the effect of the Valium. But that was hardly something unexpected, when he succumbed to his desires a lot more than the way he held himself seemed to fail him (I could never see it, though, the way my body drooped, and the consciousness in my eyes faded. All I saw was what the Valium let me see). His eyes would sink further into his head, his skin would pale more and his body would almost slump, and even though in his minds eyes he was a hyped up better looking boy to all gazing at him he looked weak and vulnerable. A great contrast to the way it made him feel – relaxed and carefree.

Considering his height he weighs a decent amount, his lean body was once filled with muscles from the career training he was put through as a child. Now the thickness has shrunk so it covers his skin, rather than protruding to give him a buff, muscular appearance. Nevertheless there is strength hidden within the frail boy, one that is still easy to see at a glance. I know I see it, clearer than the scars hidden beneath. They lined his arms, legs and chest, his body strong enough to put up with the abuse it suffered on an almost daily basis. Scars hindered his legs and arms, reminders of the aggressive, harsh training he had participated in, they were hardly noticeable, thin white strips, almost as pale as his skin and unless you knew they were there they were almost non-existent. A few more puckered up, visible scars covered his wrists, and they were the result of a few months of depression, the momentary control of the depression over his body defeated by the Valium. Cuts and grazes covered his knees and legs from trips and falls, and others had more sinister meaning, wounds afflicted by the insomnia and nightmares that hit him some nights. Autumn often pretended they didn’t exist, doing so he believed that the others would not see them, he knew Ender saw them, but Ender was smart (or was it just simple kindness?) enough to know not to ask.

From the age of ten he was given a trainer and forced into the life that any children in district one suffered. Granted it had its advantaged, allowing him to gain a strong sturdy body, and giving him the capabilities to fight and protect himself. But now it seemed as though the money spent by his parents had been no more than a waste of time and energy. At the age of nineteen he had fled that lifestyle, the muscle that had been so strong and prominent merely more than a faded sculpture surrounding his limbs. It was still there, of course, but now it seemed as though it had been replaced with the stained, lanky appearance of a boy with a secret or two. The drugs that he had become addicted to had addled his appearance, adding a more haunted, pale look to skin that had once been more tanned. To anyone it he looked just like any teenage boy with a few issues. But if you knew him and the lifestyle he had once lived through he looked like a failure. My parents saw it, I saw it. His parents would say that he was a disappointment, he had seen it in their eyes, and Autumn had always been more than sure that that is what they thought. He tried not to let those depressing thoughts get to him, that often, but sometimes they slid past his defences, and even though he was still connected to his parents and they still tried to support him, he felt as though they had abandoned him.

The slightly sunken in eyes held a look of a damaged boy, and perhaps that is what he was on the inside. Sitting on the sunken frame where his two eyes, they looked rather odd, and slightly out of place, like two dark pools surrounded by shadows. But then most people that had a substance addiction looked a lot like they had arms, legs or eyes that were oddly proportioned to the rest of their body. His eyes were grey. They were a dark and often mistaken for brown. They are overshadowed by a set of thin dark eyebrows, which were odd in contrast to the boys white hair. Autumn’s hair was perhaps the most stylised part of his appearance. He loved to keep the front long, drawing it out so that it sat at the front of his face. The front of it was long, whereas the rest was short, clipped to a length that allowed for easy care. The white colour had always struck people as odd, but he liked it, it was different, and everyone knew it. Maybe it showed to them all that I had that courage to stand out and say I didn’t mind being different. I wasn’t the person that they all had shaped me to be. His hair lead to the sharp cheekbones and angular face of his. His chin was pointed and almost all of the features on his face held a harsh edge, rather contrasting to Autumn’s personality.

( P E R S O N A L I T Y )

It was almost as though Autumn had been assigned the task of looking after everyone else. He hardly hated the idea of caring for them, and instead found the whole situation slightly amusing. Besides, it allowed him to take on a number of jobs that Ender always missed. That boy had a knack for forgetting to do almost everything he was meant to do and more than once Autumn had been left to clean up a number of messes Ender had promised to take care of. Sometimes it left him feeling frustrated, and other times he’d sigh, rolling his eyes and breathing in deeply. You couldn’t fix the entire world, sometimes you were just stuck with the useless. Regardless of what he though sometimes of Ender he trusted the boy, and trust was an awfully hard thing to earn from him – unless he was under the influence of Valium. He’d found it hard to allow himself to lean on another shoulder since he slipped away from his house one night. He was lost in that way and rather unsure of what he was doing. Sometimes he felt as though stepping too far forwards would make him slip and he’d fall five steps backwards. That was how he viewed trust, it was like balancing on the edge of a very thin fence, each step had to be times, and small, you couldn’t rush into it and if a slight breeze came and knocked you down the trust between two people had to be built again.

In Autumn’s mind, however, you only had once chance. You either gained his trust or didn’t, and if you screwed it up and somehow lost it, it was gone for good. Ender was perhaps the only person whom I had let slide, I felt some unordinary need to not let that trust slip from my hands. Sometimes I’m not sure if he found me when I was lost or if I found him. There was always a thin dance between being over-protective of the boys in his charge and being too slack. Regardless he was the one that the boy’s seek when they had issues, they felt free to come up to him and speak of any illness, issues or problems they were having. Maybe it was because autumn had just become so adjusted to listening that they could. And really they could, he could listen to them talk to him for ages, lips silent, mind actively sorting through I all, trying to find the best solution for their problems. At times Autumn would wish that he had had this kind of help, but then he’d shrug knowing fully well that he was grateful for what he had and he would not want to change a thing. I know talking helps. I know that if I were to split my lips this lost boy would be found. Being lost is better.

But then there is always Ender. It was always going to happen this way. Autumn would become the mother hen, unwilling to let the boys under his care fall in their obligations and Ender in a way forced him to stay. The boy neglected most things he did and autumn fell into the position of cleaning up his messes. The weirdest part of all was that he didn’t mind caring for them, he didn’t mind helping them when they were sick, speaking to them when they did good and snapping when they did wrong. It was hypocritical of him; however, to ever hope that he could persuade some of the boys out of their worse habits. He had tried an innumerable amount of times to persuade Ender to put down the Cocaine, knowing the damage it was doing. Yet, it had become almost instinct for him to care enough to need to force that kind of control over the boy. Still he won't listen, but I'll be damned if I give up on him. I won't, not like my family did to me. He needs me, just as I need him. Sadly it never seemed to work. It was one of the few things that stirred up enough anger and frustration in him to cause an outburst. Normally, the sweet, charming boy was on the other end, listening and receiving the full blown outbursts. Most of the boys new that when he was upset and he yelled or snapped it was serious, and that was when they tended to shrink back and listen to him. At other times they hardly took the quite boy to his word, his threats usually empty, more to just make a statement.

It is easy enough to say that Autumn can be trusted. Even though the thin line of trust that separates him from everyone else stays strong he can be relied upon to help others out. More so he is loyal, the perfect example for that is Ender, no matter what happens between the two of them he can always tip his head back, let his anger vanish and look at the boy and call him his best friend. In that way the other always trust him to say exactly what he thinks. He is sincere in everything he says and there is no doubt that what he speaks is the truth. There are few times that Autumn has turned to lies, preferring to speak the truth. Mostly lies only slip past his lips when it concerns his secrets, the Valium and preventing those that know him from knowing what he is addicted to. They can't know, I need to protect them. The guitar came with him everywhere. It had always been a part of him since a young age. When his brothers were given a blade or a knife for their birthday he had begged his parents for a new set of guitar strings. The day the guitar was slipped into his hands was the day he kind of slipped away from the aggressive, straight forward grasp of any normal career. (What kind of career despised death? I did, and yet I may be on my way to forcing my body along that road, faster then it should be) Maybe that was why he never volunteered, maybe it was why he ran away, maybe it was the reason why he had become weak enough to let a substance echo in his veins and destroy a part of him. Regardless the guitar was a part of him, just as Ender and his boys were, he could and would never let any of them go.

( H I S T O R Y )

Born to Cara and Simon Flinn, from the very start they expected great things from him. After a few short years he was already falling under the influence of two strong, persuasive parents, determined to make him their little victor. Autumn’s parents had always dreamed of having that kind of honour bestowed upon their family and with the birth of their first strong, healthy son they saw an opportunity that they could not miss. And so they grabbed it with two hands, sinking their claws into him, shaping him and changing the way he was raised to fit the perfect mould of a golden career. At first Flinn embraced the extra attention, the golden treatment, praise and care he received. His parents nurtured him and cared for him telling him how much they loved him. They told him what pride was and what he must do take make them proud. And so he became a child desperate to please his parents. Everything he did always had an ulterior motive, twisting it into some way that would end with a pat on his back or a kiss on the cheek and a few kind words from his parents. He thrived on their attention and even after the birth of his first brother they never stopped giving him their complete and full attention. Jaden was special, of course, he began life similarly to how Autumn had, but the care and light that shone on Autumn easily overshadowed that of his brother. At first he wondered why on Earth his parents would have another child when they already had him, but as time passed he never received the answer5 to that question until he was seventeen years old.

By the short age of ten his parents had already bought a personal trainer, giving half of his day over to the man he was thrusted into a ruthless, harsh, cruel set of tasks. They stretched him to his emotional and physical limits and often he would wind up at night crying. However, when his parents found this out they comforted him and told him how strong he was. After that little talk he put up with the pain he suffered, throwing himself eagerly into the path of a true career. He learned to wield a wide range of weapons from sword, axes, knives, maces and glaive’s. He gained extensive knowledge of survival skills, how to create fire, how to live without the rich vast life he had lived with. All of it was to build him into a ruthless, cold-hearted killer that could get into the games, fight, kill and win. His teacher praised him for his ability to learn quickly, he was a natural at everything he learned, the skills to fight coming easily. Autumn’s parents loved this news and praised him, buying him everything he asked for. They treated him like a little prince, and his siblings were left in the shadows. The boy drank in the praise, he loved it. At the age of fourteen and with the arrival of his second brother, Chris, his teacher gave him a test that he could not pass. His teacher had wanted him to kill. Yes it had only been a dummy, one the same as every other one he had decapitated, but his teacher had told him to look at it, see it as a human, driving towards him with their very own blade.

It was then that he learned that he did not have that powerful drive to kill that made a career a career. Believing that before him was a another kid his own age, simply trying to fight for his own life and being asked to take that away from him was something he could not do. At first he tried to switch his mind into seeing it as what it was a dummy, but every time he went to swing he’d falter, and not long into the session did the blade slip from his hands as his feet took him running from the room. With the disastrous news that their son no longer held that brutal savagery his parents turned away from him. Their love and affection instantly blossoming to his brothers, as the light around him faded. They no longer viewed him as their way of getting honour to the family, of seeing him as the big bad, ruthless boy that would kill and be crowned a victor. His parents had no problem with it. They were the perfect careers, strong and cold-hearted. When they were faced with the same task he had faltered on they relished in it. Both of them unstoppable, both of them competing against one another to take their parents favour, both of them looked upon Autumn with disgust, as though his unwillingness to take another life was a horrible thing. Yeah, they were true careers.

It wasn’t long before he began to fade away. The lack of love and attention from his family lead to a complete drop in his training, by the age of eighteen he was a wreck. Every single flicker of light that had ever been on him was gone and his parents didn’t seem to care. Even after the attempt on his own life did they not even stop and think. It was only after they saw the scars on his wrists did they try and get him some help, as reluctant as they were to give the boy any kindness. When he failed to volunteer for his last reaping he began taking the Valium more than he should, he took more tablets then his bod needed and soon the addiction settled into his body. The nightmares were almost a welcomed escape from the abandonment of his family. He felt alone, isolated and lost. His parents barely spared him a glance these days; his wrists bared the markings of a coward. His brothers had snickered and laughed when they had found out. They said he was weak and a part of Autumn had come to believe that. He hadn’t had the skills to be as ruthless and animalistic as them. So one night he left, he ran away, bag filled with bottles of valium, hands clinging to guitar.

It was that same weakness in personality that drove him home after the first two weeks. When he walked inside he received no acknowledgement, nothing, it was almost like they hadn't even noticed he had left and that warped black thing within him grew until he understood that these people had abandoned him. So he left again, his aching chest filled with despair. He could never and would never fully love, straying home for a few hours every month to get more food, money and water, and partly to notice if his parents missed him at all. They never said a thing and he was positive that they had stopped noticing that he even existed. Two weeks of roaming endlessly, getting further and further lost from his own body ended with the appearance of Ender Winters. He'll never be sure if Ender found him or he found Ender, all he knows that they are best friends and is little as that boy can achieve a task he sets his mind to Autumn trusts him. He feels more at home surrounded by this bunch of Lost Boy's then his family. Maybe it was destiny that he stumbled into Ender, or maybe Ender had been looking for him all along, regardless he was at home being lost.