soren winters ϟ district nine ϟ fin

Blood painted the small boy from a head of dark hair to his quickly moving feet. Tears caked his cheeks and his hands were both clenched on the gaping wound on the top of his head. As soon as he broke through the door and saw his mother's expression grow first concerned and then terrified he started speaking and couldn't stop. "M-Mom! I... We were climbing trees and I fell and hit my head on a rock and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see and I got up and ran, Momma. I ran so, so fast because I'm so scared and I'm bleeding and-" His mother with widened eyes dropped the knife she'd been slicing carrots with and she grabbed a hold of his shoulders. "It's okay, Soren. Let's get you cleaned up." Even she didn't know if she believe her words, but she had to make her son think she did. "You're okay."

The boy's entire life had been a bad omen if you asked him. He felt as if his day were just filled with one bad thing after the other, every time his luck managing to be more bizarre than the time before. In his defense, he did often times pull the shortest stick, and he had some pretty tough breaks. Once, he was going out of his way not to step in any holes to spare his newly sprained ankle as much pain as he could, and got so used to watching the ground that he walked face-first into a vine of thorns. That left him with a check-mark shaped scar on his left eyebrow.

Another time, he was chopping dirt with a garden rake out of sheer boredom, and managed to somehow jab the teeth of the thing into his foot. He told everyone that a dog bit him to spare his pride, and it worked, since the only evidence of anything happening at all were the tiny holes that lined the top of his foot- easily enough passing as tooth impressions.

"Shit! Wake up, Sor!" The voice pulled the slumbering boy from his dreams and into reality, where a beautiful girl with long dark hair and confident eyes stood over him, her face laced with excitement. "We over-slept! I have to be at work in like ten minutes!" Suddenly, all feelings of peace disappeared from within him, and they were replaced by ones of dread. The girl wasn't the only one that was late, nor was she the only one that had to go to work. He rolled out of the bed, pulling his shirt on and turning to the girl who was attempting to fix a head full of curls in the mirror of his room.

"Uh, do you think my parents know you're here?" She didn't turn to him, but instead still looked into the mirror so that when she spoke, it seemed she was talking to herself. "Not as far as I know. Don't worry, I know the drill. Did you ever fix your window?" He nodded and shoved his face in his hands, dreading work more and more by the second. "You wanna just skip work today? We can hang out..." This was enough for her to turn and look at him. "Would if I could..." And she meant it, or so he thought. He watched as she stood and walked over to the window, pulling it as quietly as she could. She ducked into it and Soren couldn't stop himself. "Magenta!" She turned to face him, half hanging out the window. "Thanks... for last night." She didn't reply, just winked and then she was gone. He laid back on the bed and sighed. Magenta Ryker. One of the only things in his life he actually liked.

Soren's problem had always been that he spent too much time focusing on the bad in his life to ever be able to appreciate the good in it. He always saw the glass as half empty rather than half full. According to him, hardly anyone liked him and he was mostly only tolerated by his peers, but to everyone else, Soren Winters was one of the most popular boys in their grade.

According to him, he was doomed to the exact same fate as everyone else in District Nine: a less-than-incredible life and not a single impressive achievement. If he even lasted that long. But teachers always told his mother that he was one of the most intelligent students they were teaching, even if he lacked determination. According to them, he could be one of the few to make it big, perhaps even become the next Mayor of District Nine. He already worked in Talon Irvene's office, who knew? Maybe after a few promotions and a boost in self-confidence, he could lead District Nine.

He also still felt superior to everyone else. It was as if he had accepted his fate and the fact that he was never going to be anything important, but had also told himself that he would always be closer to becoming something than anyone else. He might have been screwed, but not as much as everyone else.

The top of a wooden desk was dyed white thanks to the limitless amount of paperwork sprawled across it. The boy's brows pinched together in concentration as he scribbled sentence after sentence, trying his hardest to keep himself distracted, trying his hardest to forget what the television had been showing recaps of all morning. He had completely buried himself in his work, already three days ahead of schedule, and still, he felt like his breath had solidified into ice and lodged itself into his throat. He had to blink constantly to keep the tears away, and he hadn't spoken a single word since he watched the blade sink deep into Magenta's back and heard the cannon fire.

"Soren," The voice came from behind him and made him jump. He wiped his face, tried to rid himself of the tears that still hadn't spilled onto his trembling cheeks, and turned to find Talon leaning against the door, her hair in it's usual style- a tight ponytail that made her look barely any older than a teenager. "Yes, Ms. Irvene?" He barely whispered, afraid that his voice would break if he spoke any louder. "Can I see you in my office for a moment?" He nodded slightly, and stood to walk in the room, where she closed the door behind him.

"Um, I'm sorry about all the clutter. I'll-" He stopped speaking when he felt arms wrap around him, and a soft whisper in his ear. "It's Okay, Soren. It's okay." There was something soothing about it, but even as she spoke he felt his face redden with a mixture of emotions. With anger, with sadness, and with with loneliness. He laid his head on her shoulder and finally, he exploded, shaking as he cried. She whispered again. "It's okay, Sh, it's okay! But it wasn't. It was everything except okay. "No! No it isn't! She is dead!" His closest friend, gone. Forever.

He had to admit he was surprised by Talon's compassion, though. He had worked in her office for almost a year and she always wore the same neutral expression, always appeared to be made of stone. Now she had taken off her armor and she was there for him, and he was forever grateful for it, but it didn't change the fact that she was gone. It didn't heal the hole in his heart, and he was afraid nothing ever would.

O T H E R

odair

nolan gerard-funk
"sweater weather" - the neighborhood

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