eli bronson//d4//finished

eli bronson//d4//finished Jan 5, 2014 16:04:06 GMT -5

Post by Hael [prev. reasons] on Jan 5, 2014 16:04:06 GMT -5

Eli Cain Bronson
Age | 17
Gender | Male
District | Four

"She didn't do anything wrong!" A twelve-year-old Eli told his father, standing between him and Arielle. His father glared at his son and his son held his gaze. A little girl age 6 stood behind her older brother, shaking with fear. In Eli's green eyes darkened with anger. Sure, he was her father, and a horrible one at that. Nobody, and I mean nobody, ever could be mean to Arielle without Eli getting frustrated. Soon Mr. Bronson curled his left fist and punched Eli in the gut, hard. Eli coughed, Arielle wails rang through the small house.

"Expect worse than that," his father told Eli and walked out of the room as though nothing happened. Eli wasn't new to this, his father did this often. Most of the time because of some little thing Eli did, never Arielle because she was Mr. Bronson’s favorite of the two. Their mom was calm and scarce, hardly ever around. Arielle and Eli always stuck together.

Arielle ran her hands through Eli's short brown hair as to calm him. He sat on the ground, no words were spoken. Arielle didn't ask if he was okay, that was a stupid question with an obvious answer. Even though Eli hated showing his feelings and tried not to let on that he had any, Arielle could read him like a book. By the blank expression on his face, she could tell that he was zoned out and didn't want to talk.

( Three years later )

Dear Eli Bronson,
You are the love of my life. I know you haven't realized it yet but I have, I have ever since I laid my eyes on the masterpiece that is you. I see your hands and think how my fingers would fit so perfectly in between yours. How I long to run my hands through your soft brown hair, brush the tips of my fingers against your tough skin and feel your soft lips on mine. I know all these things because I inspect you every day because I care. I will always care till I die and I will care after that if there really is an afterlife. When you realize how much you love me and realize that we were always made to be together, I will be waiting.
Love,
Angela Harper
P.S. I live next door

"BS," Eli muttered under his breath as he lit a white candle and put the paper to the flame. This was not the first letter he had got and not the first time he acted this way. He knew that those things would never happen and he preferred it that way. He had a guy friend or two but remained unattached to everyone except Arielle. He roamed alone, that way it would stay.

( Two years later )

Sitting on the beach in the quiet of the evening, Eli enjoyed the silence with his toes in the sand. In between his fingers was the note his father had written three years earlier. His suicide note that enclosed everything he had wanted to say but never did. Eli had found his body in an ally the morning after, the gun still in hand.

Eli himself had been considering writing his own letter 6 months earlier, which he would leave on Arielle's desk before drowning himself. But then he finally brought himself to read his dad's letter. He didn't believe any of the words his father wrote but it made him realize that he didn't want to go that way. Writing a letter consisted of words that could be twisted with lies; they're only words, after all. Eli wanted to go a more heroic way where action said all, where words were not needed.

In the clear of the water, he could see his reflection. Brown hair had grown a bit longer than his short cut. Stubble had grown in his chin. Black eyebrows and eyelashes framed his subtle but capturing green eyes. His eyes were the color of evergreen at the moment; they changed with his mood and the lighting. His skin was rough, he looked like the man he was. Not the little boy who was scared of taking risks, scared of asking for his truck back from another four-year-old boy; the eight-year-old who put a great distance between him and his alcoholic, abusive father.

He often wished that he lived in District 7. Don't get me wrong, he enjoys the water and all but is in love with the idea of living in District 7. Eli was a simple young man, not one that would get caught up with fashion and things that weren't necessary to survive. He trained often but never wished to be in the Hunger Games, which he despised.

Underneath that bad boy persona, Eli was a real sweetheart. He wanted to be a real gentlemen like every girl dreamed of. He wanted to be a role model, someone to look up to. If he ever became a father, he would be a great one. He didn't want his kids to go through a repeat of what he and Arielle had to go through. Not that he would ever admit that he isn't a bad boy underneath. He's just struggling, like most people in Panem.

Dear wife and children,
I know this is hard for you to read, but life has become too much to bear. I just have a few words to write before I leave this hell. Dear Grace, I'm sorry our marriage didn't go as well as planned and that we had to have those children. Not my fault you insisted on keeping them. You never listened and do things like I wanted to. Dear Eli, I never loved you and I'm not sorry for everything I did to you. Dear Arielle, you were always my favorite, I hope you know that. I'm sorry I couldn't be the father you always wanted but I had better things than build a healthy relationship with my children. Make sure not to invite Hedrick to my funeral.
Rick Bronson

Eli tore that letter into pieces and curled them in his fists. He thought daily about how he didn't fit in and never would. But he was finally accepting that, letting go, just like the pieces of paper he was threw into the water.

FC: Drew Van Acker