Aquinas Keeni [D6]

{Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life}




Name: Aquinas Thomas Keeni
Age: 15
District: 6
Gender: Male
Diagnosis: Schizophrenia

('So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him' ~ Genesis 1:27)

I look down at the bathroom floor and glare down onto my hands; I'm a mess. A ragged mess but I'm still oh so perfect because I was created in his view of perfection. I'm malnourished, underfed, skinny, awkward but I'm still oh-so perfect. Scars and bruises riddle my hands like a grotesque piece of artwork. Every time I touch them, every brush send small bouts of pain rushing through my hands and I wince every time. My fingernails are chipped and jagged, not a slither of neatness is even recognisable in my bony fingernails. I'm a twig but I'm still oh-so perfect because I was made in a divine image.

I sigh and look up at the cracked mirror. My face tells a story of poverty and rotten luck (yet throughout all of that bad luck not once did I ask 'Why?') but I can still smile at it proudly. At my smile slightly crooked, white teeth are revealed. Their so white because I've been denied the sweet corrosiveness of sweets and yet being deprived of dental care has left them out of place. They told me not to smile but I can smile now because I was made in a perfect image. I have a weak jawline, clearly in the middle stages of development but still making progress.

My pale face has no spots or scars (surprising is it not?) and I don't see it as luck. It's a tiny blessing and I remember to thank him in my prayers every day and every night. I won't be ungrateful, I'll remember to be thankful for no spots so far. Curly jet black hair cascades down the front of my forehead - it has a very plain texture, not greasy and it's as dry as a carpet. It's rather short as well for practical reasons. It's much easier to get stuff done when long hair isn't falling down over your face and being a general nuisance. My eyes are a very deep shade of brown, ever observing and constantly on the watch and lookout for a sign from him. Signs are there, in every shadow and every corner - I just have to look for them.

I have an skinny, lanky figure - like an awkward praying mantas that has doesn't know what to do with itself. At least that's what they say but it's all for a reason - he made me this way for a reason and I won't question his methods. They can call me awkward praying mantis all they want; I am still made in his perfect image no matter what they say. After all, they wouldn't understand the methods of God. Besides, I can't fill myself out because food I get is scarce and it's not exactly shared out equally in this household. Perhaps that's why my arms are like twigs and someone can easily form a ring around my ankles. I stand at a simple 6'1 despite only being fifteen, I was always the tallest in my classes.

Sure, I don't move with the grace of a God but that's because I am not God. I am a mere servant, brought down to do his holy work in my own little awkward way. I don't know what that is, I'm waiting for a sign that will come. Someday, any day. It will come, I must be patient.

(But you are a sinner and you are dirty you cannot deny that.)

I stumble back into the corner, taken back by the words, the familiar voice but sudden words have sent me into the corner of the bathroom. He shouldn't be here. "You're back." I say, biting the anger back and keeping it suppressed in my words. He mocks me everyday and every night, constantly there, the devil on my shoulder, the source of all my temptation. He's made me question my faith a total of twice, an unacceptable amount of times he's used his words to make me ask the words of doubt. "Why?" It is not my place to question, it is not me place to ask why, only my place to serve and look for the signs. But he tries to stop me.

"Be gone ya filthy sinner. Don't wanna be dealin' with your folk again!" I growl, still ticked into the corner and frantically searching around to see this demon that has returned to haunt me once again.

("I'll be back and you know it.") He whispers and just like that he's gone.

(Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and [that] the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? - 1 Corinthians 3:16)

I am a temple and he dwells within me and I reflect that in the way I act. I'm dignified and I will always act dignified. Temptation is always there, temptation is always there to sink to the level of the horrible sinners but I resist. If Jesus can resist temptation from Satan while going 40 days in a desert then I can resist the temptation of sinners and scoundrels. I am better than that, I am above them and they cannot bring me down while the hands of the lord hold me up.

(Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. - Matthew 5:9)

For that reason I am not violent, or at least I try not to be, I'm not a sinner and I always try to find the peaceful way out. But he tests my patience and so many times I've wanted to hit him. No, that would be a lie, I want to kill him so he can never speak out against my God again. After all...

(An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth - Exodus 21:24)

"I'll be strong and I'll strike you down you filthy sinner!" I scream into the abyss but there's no response; he's retreated like the true coward he always was. No one can stand to the wrath of the servant and the master. He won't escape, he can't escape. He can break my mind but he will never break my faith; there is a sign out there whether he says it or not and when that sign comes I will have my revenge.

For now, I try to stay away from that lot: those who would tempt me to go back to a life of nothing but sin. They cannot break me because the Lord made me that way. We owe everything we have to the Lord; the mugs in the big ol' fancy Capitol are only there because they were born from the right sperm and egg; they were born from that combination cos the Lord said so. Everything I have is thanks to him; a big family, a house, a roof over my head, complete physical health - everything I have is thanks to the Lord. Grateful forever. I can never repay him, I can only do the work he put me on this earth for.

The voices won't change that. Started soon before I turned fifteen, they came fast and furious in short bursts. I was so scared I was. I thought they'd kill me, they told me to do so much and I thought I was supposed to listen. But then it go extreme, they told me to disobey the Bible, they told me to hurt myself, kill myself, or maybe others. And I resisted, I resisted the temptation that was placed in front of me. But then they started to manifest as vision and they graced my eyes. I still resisted, I could not be broken.

I will not break because punishment awaits for any single crack. Every time I stray away from the path, every time I fall to temptation I must be punished because I must repent with all my heart. So I must take physical discipline. A slice across the flesh just so the lesson is clear. They encourage it, the people sent to torment me. They encourage me to repent and when I repent I must punish myself. It's quick and fluid, a quick slash with the knife, deep enough to leave a scar. Then that's enough. So every time I find myself deviating I must cut. It started just before I turned fifteen and it's continued.

I stand up and count the wounds across my body.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Ten times I've deviated so far from God's word that I've had to punish my self, they're all scattered around my body like a puzzle; like one of those books were you have to find the cartoon man except this time it's find the sin. And I know when I've disobeyed, I've memorised my entire Bible off by heart and I still read it every night. I remember each and every one of them: one of them was for breaking down and hitting a kid in my class, one of them was because I had sexual contact with a girl, the list goes on and on. Ten times I've had to punish myself.

I'm haunted by temptation but I have the strength to stop. They can stay with me all they want; in a way they've become a part of me. No matter what others say, no matter what the outsiders think they're real. Another test to beat, another challenge to make me steer from the path of righteousness. "Where have the good voices gone?" I call out but there's no answer. They haven't been around in a while.

The Heavens and the Earth were created in seven days, well I was shaped in the last seven years of my life.

The name Keeni haunted me for all of my life, the first eight years of my life it haunted me. I lived with my parents for a solid eight years and everything was routine. I don't know much of what they did, I don't actually remember all that much. I went to school, lived, played, had fun (as much fun as I possibly could at least) for a solid eight years. We weren't rich, far from it, in fact we were pretty dirt poor and didn't have much to show off. We lived modest lives me, my parents and my sister but it was a decent life. However, still full of sin.

The day after I turned nine the creation started.

We were at school when they told us our parents had been found dead. Causes of death: stabbed and bled out. It was a robbery, a simple robbery and I cried so much that day. We both cried but I think I cried the most, I didn't care about looking strong or looking like a pussy - I just cried and let it all out. Nightmares plagued my dreams for weeks and weeks honestly, they still do.

We were made to move in with our closest relatives. This overcrowded Keeni household. I think we slowly drifted apart after that, now I barely see her, I forget her name sometimes. She doesn't matter any more, only the Lord and his messages matter to me now. I didn't adapt well, I slowly faded into obscurity and no one noticed me, I didn't want anyone to notice me. A ball of grief. That's what I was.

The second day the heavens were made. For me I was further shaped the day after I turned ten.

I discovered I had talents, I was actually good in class and something just made me want to use that to help people. Now I realise it was God's holy pull drawing me towards it. That's when my ambition started, my ambition to become a medic - so I could save lives. It all happened when I visited a clinic and I was mesmerised by the miracles that happened there, maimed and sick people were being made to feel better and my impressionable mind was so amazed. Looking back at it, I still am amazed. That's who I strive to be now.

The third day dry land and the sea was made. For me, I was shaped further when I turned eleven.

I had my first fist fight. Not a little scuffle, a full blown trying to smash each other's faces in fight. I remember him loud and clear, Dustyn and he was a right prick. He mocked me, he mocked my appearance, he mocked my deceased parents so he had to go. Without mercy I let my fist fly in his face and hit him with all my might. He hit me back and the rest was history. I had to be dragged off of him because he had two black eyes and a fat lip. I got in big trouble but it was worth it.

On the fourth day he made: the sun, the moon and the stars. For me, I was shaped further when I turned twelve years old.

At this point I was a fighter, I was a fighter and I was hitting people almost everyday I possibly could; I didn't care who they were, older kids, girls, boys, I just stopped caring. Soon enough everyone had enough of that cursed Keeni boy who was hitting everyone who got on the wrong side of him. It made me an outcast. I remember it clear as day, sitting on that bench as everyone allowed me played. No one wanted to let me join in because I was scary or weird looking, sometimes both. I just didn't know what to do any more. No friends, no proper family. I was eleven and I was alone.

On the fifth day living creatures in the water and air began to spring up. For me, I was properly moulded when I turned thirteen.

I saw it, the most amazing looking book. It was so thick and untouched by the mess of the market. I immediately felt the pull. Something drew me to that book and I just knew I had to get it. When the person selling the thing told me how much it was my jaw dropped, I didn't have enough money. So I did what I had to do. My clothes came off, first my top, then my trousers and shoes until I was left in my underwear and socks. I gave him the clothes on my back in addition to the money I had brought with me.

I got the book.

I carried it home with pride. It was called the Bible and I immediately began reading it, it told me everything. Genesis truly captivated me, his holy word immediately drew me in and my eyes where opened. Just like that I turned from an ignorant boy to a true servant of the Lord. I etched his word onto the tissue of my brain and I kept it there proudly.

I was good.

On the sixth day land animals and people were created. For me, the finishing touches were being added when I was fourteen.

I walked around with such zeal, following all the words of the Bible. It took me a whole year, it took me a whole year and reading and re-reading every day and every night. Every chance I got I would read it but soon enough I had memorised the Bible. I don't know if it's perfect, I really don't know but it was close enough. Passages I can name them, important names and events I can name them. Now, it's a true source of moral authority. I could truly say that I was finished...

On the seventh day he rested. When I was fifteen I rested.

"So you thought."

I was fifteen and the hallucinations pulled me from reality and left me distorted. The first voice tried to tempt me, tried to make me question, tried to make me doubt but I would not have it - I would not let it tempt me. Besides, there were good voices for a time, for a time they balanced out the bad. They tried their best to keep me on the path of righteousness but it wasn't enough.

I truly sinned when they started.

She ignited an evil lust I never thought I'd feel and a passion stronger than the riptide of District Four's stormy sea. I lost it.

("You must repent, you must be punished.") They told me and repent I did.

The knife's steely kiss was cold but it wasn't enough, if anything I was let off easy with one gash across my mid section.

Every time I sinned I had to feel the kiss of the blade and it happened ten times.

On the seventh day God rested. So why was I broken on the seventh year?

No!

I cannot ask why, I cannot question his methods. A wail of horror escapes my dry throat and I messily scramble up and drag myself up, I'm staring right into the mirror. My heart's pounding like a hammer and my eyes widen in horror despite the fact I should have expected it. He's standing behind me. He's tall, much taller than me and the single step he takes sends a cold chill down my spine and I instinctively shiver. He almost bends down so his face is next to my ear. He's a shadow in the dark, long, black tangled hair, pale skin but no mouth, just a pair of eyes behind a curtain of shaggy hair. He can still speak, I know that well enough.

("You must repent.") He whispers, his voice not commanding but seductive. I... I must be punished.

Number eleven - I almost doubted his holy methods.

After this I'll go read to myself; perhaps the book of Genesis will have to do. Perhaps I'll be forgiven once again.

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