Rolf D9 {done}

I can feel you falling away
No longer the lost

{Name} Rolf Parks
{Age} Eighteen
{Location} District 9
{Gender} Male
{Faceclaim} Tomohisa Yamashita

His words echo throughout my mind bouncing through my skull before embedding itself inside my brain forever. Love. A four letter word. One that has a special meaning. One that isn't used lightly, yet in his case it was. Each time my eyes close, all I can hear is his words as mother and father pound him. As they brutalize the poor, innocent soul turning him into a monster hidden beneath the bed. His shrieks of pain buzz through my ears every second of every day. His pleas for them to stop. To leave him alone because he's their son, and they should love their son like they love me, but it doesn't stop. It never ends. Being his brother, I should run and save him. I should tell them to stop, but they don't bother me. I'm a good child. A perfect child. One that they love. That they care about. One that never does wrong in their eyes. All I can do is recline against a wall in my room with my knees drawn tightly against my chest listening until silence fills the air, but all the remained was his words; "I love you. Please stop. Please. I love you."

Mother and father never hated me. I always did what they wanted. I went to school. I did exactly what I was told to do. Never once did a horrible word flee my lips. I kept the house clean. I made sure everything was in place, and they showed me love. When it was cold outside, and I was shivering in my room underneath the tiny sheet plastered against my bed, they brought me a thick blanket, yet in the other room I could hear his teeth chattering against one another. With my eyes closed, I could see his breath clouding around him each time he breathed. Mother made me promise I wouldn't offer him any warmth. She wanted him dead. She wanted to kill him because he wasn't deserving of being her son, and deep inside it shattered me. My heart broke into millions of tiny pieces because Chaske was my brother, and I should help him. I should make sure he survived the hell mother and father put him through, but being the perfect child rested heavily on my mind. Mother and father loved me. They cared about me more than I ever cared for him.

But I did care for him, and I wanted to help him, but mother and father wouldn't approve. On the cold nights when snow flew through the cracked window in his room, the most I could do was take him a sheet to cover his freezing body, and before the sun rose in the morning, before mother and father woke up, I would have to run and snatch it away. Mother would be furious and hate me if she realized I broke the promise I made, yet promises were meant to be broken. They were only broken words spoken from the mouth of those who pretended to care. Everyday was a different story though. "I promise I won't hurt you anymore. I promise it'll never happen again as long as you're a good boy. I promise it'll stop. I promise. I promise. I promise." That's all I heard from my parents as they busted his face to pieces. As they shattered his ribs. As they destroyed the only being who was ever the perfect child. I promise. Promise is a word that's only meant to destroy those who care the most. To shattered the innocence living inside a soul.

No longer the same
And I can see you starting to break

And then he struck back. He lashed out violently, and all I could do was hide behind the corner watching as the monster grew louder and louder. Father begged for him to stop. He begged for him to show mercy. He begged for his life, yet I knew it wasn't any good. Chaske was different. Something about the way he talked. The way he moved. The way he looked. It wasn't him, but a monster. A demon from somewhere hidden within the earth. His fists pounded away, and I couldn't do anything. I wasn't the perfect child anymore. I cried. I screamed for him to stop, but my words fell on deaf ears. His heart was somewhere else. It was beyond anything my eyes had seen before. It was worse than watching the hunger games where children my age struck one another down. It was different than that, and I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I could only feel my shaggy, black hair standing straight as a breeze flew through the window. My words caught in the back of my throat, and I couldn't move, and I couldn't speak. I just stood there staring like a dumbfounded fool.

He turned towards me. His eyes wide, and I only could run away cowering in the same corner of my room I sit in listening as they struck him. My heart pounded rapidly against my chest. It hammered loudly throughout my entire mind, and deep inside I prayed that he would find it inside of him to spare me. I didn't want to die, but I didn't deserve to live. Not after allowing this to happen to him. He was howling like a wolf in the middle of the night as the moon grew larger and larger. Deep bursts of laughter ripped through the air sending chills down my spine. Fear pranced through my veins taking control of my life. I hid my face in my legs as tears streamed down my face. Maybe being a perfect child was wrong. Maybe trying to save myself from the fate mother and father put him through was wrong, but at the moment it was right. A broken glass wasn't meant to go unpunished even if I was the one that knocked it off the table while he was in his room, yet being the perfect child mother and father wanted had it's perks because they always went after him.


"You killed them!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as he slid in view of my room. "You killed them! You killed them! You killed them!" Running tiny fingers through my hair pushing it in front of my pale face trying to hide my fear I repeated the same three words over and over until his eyes were fixed on me. Anger danced through my veins. A spark was lit, and I wasn't about to let it die down. I wasn't going to allow him to get away with what he had done. Chaske deserved another punishment, but as he stared me down I realized yelling at him wasn't the best decision. All my color fled from my face, and my heart sank into my stomach. All I could do was hold my tiny hands in front of my face praying he left me alone, yet I knew begging for mercy wouldn't amount to anything. Not after witnessing what he did to mother and father. My mind raced while beads of sweat formed on my forehead before trickling down my face. Only one question rested on my mind as he turned away from me. What have I done. And he's gone. Away. Somewhere so I can't find him.

I'll keep you alive
If you show me the way

Chaske was okay for a while. He talked to me, and I talked to him, but he called me by a name I never knew. He called me Chance, and he would become furious when I called him Chaske. He said that wasn't his name. It rattled my brain as I tried figuring out what had happened to my brother. His entire body was different than what it use to be, yet none of it made sense. None of it clicked. We talked for a while standing at the front door of our aunt's house. She never questioned anything. She never spoke a word, but she offered us a place to stay. She allowed us a bed to sleep in. A blanket to cover ourselves up when it was cold. Food was placed before us, but the moment Chaske turned eighteen he ran away. He never came back for us. He never tried getting in touch with us again. My only guess was he returned to the house we once lived in because that was his home. It was our home, and I never saw him after that. For a while, I thought he was dead. I thought he passed on.

Then he was reaped. And he was taken away from me, and all I had left was an aunt who didn't even care I existed. She didn't care that he was in the games. She didn't care that my entire life was devoted to making my parents proud because they're dead. Killed by my brother. Their own son, but in my eyes he was never a son. They never cared for him, and now that I look back it makes me angry. I could've prevented their deaths. I couldn't prevented the pain he went through, but I was a coward, and I didn't want anyone knowing what it was like trying to live every single day under the pressure. Under the stress. Mother and father put me through so much. I watched as he stood on the stage. I watched as he laughed like the reaping was a joke. Like nothing mattered. Not even the fact that his life was placed on the line. It's my fault he changed. If I had only stood up for him as a child when mother and father tormented him, he would've been different. He wouldn't have killed them. He wouldn't be laughing as he was reaped, and maybe I would've gone forward and said goodbye, but I didn't. I couldn't because in my mind he no longer existed.

But I checked in every day. I made sure I was standing in front of the screen watching him compete in the games. I made sure I was there with him through every fight, but even then I noticed something was different. Throughout the games he changed. He was violent. Cruel, but he made friends. He found people he could join along with in the battle for his life. He fought along side them, and he did well, and I was proud. I was clapping for him, and cheering, and deep inside all I wanted was for him to return home. Maybe he would return home and yell at me. Maybe he would return home and lift me into his arms like every brother wants, but the further he got into the games, the more I realized it wouldn't happen. Chaske was more than different - he was already gone. He died long before entering the arena. He didn't care about the lives of anyone. It broke my heart more especially when I heard him plead with the girl from eleven because he didn't want to die alone. He didn't want to be abandon. Truth be told, it was I who abandon him. It was I who killed him.

Forever - and ever
the scars will remain

When he died, I jumped off the stage because I wanted to run away. I wanted to die because it's my fault he died. It's my fault he never had a person love him. He never had someone care about him. But when I jumped off the stage my knee buckled under the weight of my body fragile and it touched the ground. Pain shot throughout my entire leg, and my knee began swelling and turning black and blue. I knew something was wrong, but I had no way of fixing it. I had no way to change what had just happened. Tears streamed down my face as violent sobs escaped from my lips. Someone helped me. They picked me up and carried me away. They took the weight I couldn't carry. They wrapped an arm around my sunken stomach, and I could count my ribs without trying. I was hungry. I was starving. I was going to die, but this person wouldn't allow it. He took me when when nobody else would. He placed food in front of me. He kept telling me to eat that I needed my strength, but eating wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to fall over dead because it's my fault my brother and my parents are dead.

A friend. That's all I needed to get back upon my feet, but the first thing he did was place a mirror in front of my face. A mirror to show what I've done to myself because he wanted to remind me of where I had been. Of where I had just came from. Dirt stained my pale face. My lips are cracked in every possible place. My white tongue had a permanent dry patch on top of it. My black hair was a mess. Grease swept through it. I had enough grease inside my hair to oil many doors. A tangled mess formed in the back. The whites of my eyes were stained red. Snot dripped from my nose coating my face leaving streaks through the dirt caked against my skin. I was a mess. A horrible mess. It looked like I was skin just tossed against my bones, and all of that was my fault. A fake smile plasters against my face as I try to pretend everything in the world was fine. I tried to hide the pain lurking deep inside my grossly underweight body because as a new day begins, everyone moves on leaving me behind in the dark. In the dust where nobody cares.

Now I walk with a limp using a makeshift cane to hold myself up. My knee is unstable. It's always giving out on me because it makes life hard. I try to help people because in my eyes it is right. It doesn't matter who the person is. They could be my worse enemy, and I would still give them the respect they deserved like the girl from eleven who held my brother's hand as he died. The perfect child has flown from the window like a baby bird flying from a nest for the very first time. Watching him changed me. Watching him become a monster tormented my own soul, and now I must live for him. I must remember him and everything he went through because if it wasn't for him, I'm almost positive mother and father would've took it out on me. They would've made sure my life was a living hell. Is it wrong that I'm grateful he was there for that reason? Is it wrong that I'm glad he suffered for my cause? I don't know. I honestly don't know, but I do know without my brother, I would be dead, and since I'm alive, I'm thankful he was my brother.

I'm falling apart
Leave me here forever in the dark