Kolton Enim {District 12}

History

Wild is what most people know me as, but my name is Kolton. They call me Wild because my mother gave birth to me 18 years ago in the peat marshes of District 12. She had been expecting me for a while- it was just she couldn’t get a day off work- with food being scarce she couldn’t afford to take a day off work to birth her second. So I was born in the peat marshes, and how did I cry. Well being thrust into the world isn’t nice! You’re warm and everything is beautiful then you are fall into a whole new world, that is cold and dark and dangerous- and when you are so tiny, you are so afraid so you cry. My mother tied her shawl around her body and wrapped me up in the pouch and went on with her work.

For the next 8 years, I spent every day on the marshes with my brother and mother- then eventually my little sister; while my father worked in the coal mines. Me and my younger sister would play while my brother and mother would collect peat to sell at the market for cheap fuel that the capitol would never be interested in. When I was 8, my sister 4, we had wandered far from my mother and brother- playing tributes. My sister was chasing me and I was running away as we pretended to be in the hunger games- we were both laughing, we were both having fun. Then her laughing stopped. All fell silent. I turned to see she was gone- she had disappeared into thin air. I slowly realized that she had been swallowed up by the bog- and I began to scream. I screamed her name over and over again- tears rolling down my cheeks. I began digging in the bog around me, maybe she was still near to the surface- but she had fallen into the deep patches of the bog that we tried to stay clear of. I screamed her name again and again- even as my brother dragged me away, dragged me home- leaving mother to cry.
From that day onwards- I did not return to the bogs, and my mother hated me. She blamed me for my sister’s death- she even told me if I had died when I was born she would not have cared. I felt broken, and even though my brother tried to comfort me- nothing could work. My mother eventually fell very ill and died when I was 12, which twisted me inside even more; for she had been horrible to me since my sister’s death and she had never apologised. I couldn’t even remember when the last time my mother had told me she loved me. Brother had always assured me she had loved me, as had dad (who we rarely saw because he worked practically 24/7 in the mines), but I still knew deep down that mother had hated me the moment I had let my little sister slip into the bog.

My brother continued working in the peat marshes- gathering peat for me to sell. While he did that, I began working on the stall in the market. I would sell the peat to anyone who had the money- and though that was very few, it gave us enough money to feed ourselves. One day while selling our stock of peat, I noticed everything had gone quiet. Then there was a loud rumble- and I knew that there had been an explosion in the mines. I dropped all I was holding, and ran- ran as fast as I could to the mine entrance; but when I got there, everything seemed to be working fine. Yet a crowd of people were moving north- towards the fence. I followed- not that I had much choice, the crowd kind of swept me with them. As we got closer- there was a ripple of whispers that travelled back to me; the whisper was “Two people have been shot”. I shoved my way to the front of the crowd- eager to see who had been shot for trying to escape. As I pushed through the front, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. There on the ground, a bullet hole in the centre of his forehead- lay my brother; his girlfriend beside him. I could barely believe it- I wanted to scream to the heavens until the sky fell but the sound did not come. All I could do was stare at my brother’s lifeless body. How could he? I had thought as I ran from the gathering, all the way home.

That was almost 4 years ago now, and my poor father has since passed of illness- leaving me alone to continue the family business. I pay a boy to collect peat for me- I don’t pay him much but here in the Seam it is considered a fortune to some. Even though the pain has passed, I still find myself crying until I fall asleep- mourning my family. Life will never be the same again.

Personality

Despite my hard ship- I like to smile. It makes me feel better sometimes and I like to think that I make others feel better too. It is the only thing that keeps me from falling off the fence of sanity and becoming mad- which I am pretty sure I would have done if I could not smile. I am told, I have a nice smile but sometimes I think that I use my smiling to cover the pain inside. If I didn’t have my smile- I think my face would look twisted and deformed- I would be the thing that parents tell their children about at night. I would be a monster. Sometimes, I think that the monster is still inside me. Waiting, watching for the right moment to strike- tear me apart and make me less of them man I am now.

Underneath the mask- I am truly and utterly a broken man. People, family and friends have all tried to put me back together again but they can’t. I struggle to let anyone in- I am afraid to love a girl for I fret she may crumble in my hands just as my parents, brother and sister had done; all because of me. I have, trust issues you could say. Major trust issues- I even struggle to keep the friends I have because I am so afraid of losing them too. I like to close myself off from the world- there I can harm no one; it may just be coincidence or bad luck but in my opinion I don’t even fall under those categories.

If there is something I love in this world- it is strawberries; well the smell of them at least. I have only ever tasted a strawberry once- oh how sweet it was. That was when Heron Kimberly won the games- and her victory tour bought us food and the parties, along with which came strawberries. Strawberries remind me of the games sometimes- when I see a box being delivered to the mayor’s office, I remember when the girl with no legs won the games not too long ago and I feel proud to be a District 12 citizen but on the other hand, the strawberries remind me of the pain and suffering children go through. Our district never does very well in the games, and I am frightened to be chosen from the bowls. Though, I would have no one to leave behind…

Appearence

Most girls, despite my solemn nature, find me somewhat attractive. My face has a baby face quality to it- and it’s hard to define where my cheekbones or chin is- yet despite those flaws, as I would call them, I have a strong jaw line like any man my age should. Another aspect girls like about me is my pale pink lips and my smile- even though my teeth are not quite in great shape (with not being able to afford a dentist). A part of my face that the girls do not find attractive however, is my broad nose- but I quite like it; it is something I inherited from my father as well as the strong jaw.

Hair is a nuisance in my opinion. It just gets in the way- especially my because its tight and curly. It’s not very thick either so it often gets in a mess if I keep it long; so once I month I put the scissors to my honey brown locks and cut it just above my ears- that way it doesn’t frustrate me while I am working. A final point about myself, is my eyes. Though I have the classic traits of District 12 citizens, olive skin and brown hair- my eyes tell a different story. They are not the black-brown of most District 12’s I know, nor are they hazel, nor brown, nor dark green. My eyes are blue- a very pale blue- almost grey and they always remind me of a rainy day for some reason, I can’t remember why.
Codeword: Odair