Cyro Krane D11 (Finished)

Wind's howling and rushing causes my body to fill with a chill that won't go away. The world, nothing more that an icy land where negativity lies awake waiting for it's next victim. The world's hold on everyone was strong, stronger than any of us could ever imagine. Negativity ruled the world with it's evil, black hands that grasped the world and wasn't going to let go. The chill that runs up and down my spine is playing me like a piano. My body and my mind feel unsafe from the negativity that now controls all of the world before me. The world I once knew was gone and replaced with nothing but an icy cold world and it's negativity holding me down to the cold and hard reality that I was stuck in.

The reality of the life that I had to live eats away at my heart until it's nothing but dust blowing across the wind, traveling farther than I could ever go. The old life that I used to have was gone like my dreams of traveling far away from my life that I had in District Eleven. Dreams were something that I couldn't didn't have anymore. The world just laughed at my despair from afar and all I could do was live the horrible life and take the small amounts of joy that I could get. Negativity had it's strong grip on the world, but I had to reach for the joy that swirled above the world that we knew, just waiting to be taken and used for the good in the world. Her voice flowing through my head again as I reach for the positivity that I needed, "Reach for it Cy. Reach!"

And I do.

The world that I had known was a place full of warmth and joy, so much warmth and joy that it would cause you to feel like you were safe and sound, but I knew, I knew that it was all a facade for what the world was really like. There were cracks between the real world and the fantasy world that they created for us. The cracks were small, but plentiful. They were everywhere that I had been. I should have known what they were trying to show me, but how could I have then when I was still young and had no care in the world. My light brown hair bouncing up and down as I ran down the square looking for the next adventure that waited for me. Those were the days when I felt like I was truly free from everything and could be myself without consequences. Those days were over now and all that was left was a depressed form of myself and the one angel that gives me light through it all. Everything I do is for his sake, not my own.

The angel that brought light upon the cold icy world was just waking up from a bad dream. The tears coming from the angel as he ran to my room. His blue eyes staring right back into my blue eyes. Waterlike blue eyes that he had gotten from me. Beautiful blonde hair that his mother had given to him and I let him curl up into the bed as my rough, big hand curls into the soft blonde locks that I missed. I want to ask what the dream was about, but I already knew. It was always the same. The little cry coming from the angel's lips says it all, "Miss mommy." All I can do is just pull the angel in tighter to my chest as I whisper to him, "I miss her too, buddy." The tearstreaked cheeks of my angelic boy disappears and soon a light snore fills the air around me. My strong arms still wrapped comfortably around my son. My blue eyes drifting closed into a restless sleep, dreams of her blonde hair and green eyes haunting my very being.

Mornings were a nightmare for my angel. His mother used to make breakfast for him every day, but now that was my job. The mirror across the room glows before me. My tired blue eyes that were once a bright blue shimmer a darker blue as sorrow and grief have taken over my body. An infestation of emotions that keep becoming harder and harder to hide. My light brown hair pulls in multiple directions. My strong, big hand goes to fix the locks of hair that stick up, but it's useless. Everything feels useless. The tireless nights were taking a toll on my body and I knew it was getting harder and harder to get up earlier, but I had to. Not for me, but for him. My angel, my joy, my son, my Xander.

The cool water that comes out of the facet that I had to fix the first day Xander and I had came to this house. Memories of bad days and the weight of loss on my shoulders. My broad shoulders that could hold more than I thought they could ever hold. The weight of it all felt excruciatingly painful. A weight of sorrow and grief lays upon my chest and I can barely breathe. I've been drowning. Drowning in the sorrows and grief of her death, of everything that has happened. The cool water slides down my strong arms and my strong chest. My body was in great condition from all the hard work I had to do to keep myself and my family afloat. My mind on the other hand was broken, it's been broken for awhile now. I step out of the cool water and dry my body. The towel feels rough against my skin. I catch my eyes in the mirror and the glow that used to be there was gone like it had been since her death. Since her murder. Everything good in the world seemed to die, but my angel was still there. My son, my angel, my Xan, he would be here as long as I was still breathing my last breath on earth. I'm broken and bent, but I gotta keep his life great, even if it means sacrificing my own body and mind for his sake.

I've been broken for awhile now. My little angel, Xander, noticed this too. The simplest question always rolling off of his little lips, "Daddy okay?" I couldn't answer it honestly, nothing could make me tell him how much I was suffering. I'd put on the facade. A smile that is fake forms on my lips. My dimples appearing and my voice a soft and calming exhale from my body, "I'm always okay, Xan. Let's get some breakfast for you and Gran. What do you want?" The little angel excitedly pounds his little hands onto the table and smiles the same smile I used to have before her death, before her murder. His voice is squeaky and adorable all at the same time, "Egg! Egg! Egg!" The chanting from his little mouth continues and I find myself letting out a genuine laugh. My hands go to the frying pan and break a few eggs to make my little angel, Gran, and my breakfast.

Breakfast always went by fast, no one talked, no one made any comments until after breakfast. Gran knew what I have been through, so she allowed Xan and I to come to her home without any baggage, but the sorrow and grief that Xan and I carried on our shoulders. Nothing but the clothes on my back and a small amount of money. Xander's grandparents didn't want the child of a monster. That's what they called me. Monster. I was the monster that fell in love with a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who was now dead. Buried and broken. Nothing but a body in the ground now, but still the woman that he had fallen in love with. The woman who gave the best thing to ever be within his reach. Reaching for the one love and joy in the word. Her words still linger around his head of what she wanted to name the bundle of joy that was theirs. "Xander will be his name. Xander Krane." The tears hit my eyes before I knew it. Gran stares at me for a second only to notice the tears. Then in what feels like years, she takes Xander away from the table to read in the living room with him.

The memory of her always puts a hole in my body. I heave myself up off of the chair and into the kitchen. My arms shake slightly as I reach for the cup, full of the bitter liquid that burns slightly, to take my mind off of her. It's useless though. My mind always goes back to her and that night. The night that something good had been taken and grasped by the hand of negativity. Crushing her into nothing, but a dead body. The joy and happiness in the word being snuffed out like a candle's wick. She was dead. I wish it was me everyday, but I can't think that. Not for my sake, but for my angel's sake. Everything was for him. Every last thing in my being was for him. No one would snuff out his light, even if I had to throw my life away for him. I'd fight to keep him alive, no matter what happens, as long as he lived on in a happy, perfect life.

The love of my life was the only thing on my mind now. I remember her murder like it was just the other day. My father had came home in a rage that night. Alcohol flooding his blood stream giving him even more anger on top of it. Mother had been dead for years, yet my father blamed me for her death. And it was true. I killed her when she birthed me, the monster to everyone, but my beauty. Nights like this were the worst for my father. The alcohol fueled his anger. The marks on my stomach were still healing from the last time he had hit me. The bruises were a purple color and I spent so much time hiding them from my beauty. Bruises that signified how much of a messed up father I had. Bruises to remind me that I am a monster. The rage that my father held was unleashed on my body, worse than it had been before.

That's when she walked in. Her graceful entrance into the shattered picture I tried to hide from her. The new bruises forming already on my body. My beauty was angry at him. Her face contorted into something he had only seen once when he missed her birthday the year before. The minutes felt like months to me. My eyes watched as she launched onto my father, her fists flying at his face, body, anywhere she could hit. That's when the glint of metal shined upon my eyes. I saw it and couldn't get up fast enough. A scream fills the room as the shiny blade is stabbed through her and then pulled back out and pushed back in her. I didn't know it at the time, but my mouth formed a scream and the words help flew out of it. The peacekeepers flooded in from the commotion and that is the last time I saw her and my father again. Alone in the house with nothing but my angel in his crib, crying out. The situation was explained to the peacekeepers by me. My father was too drunk to lie about it, so the truth came out fairly easily. The peacekeepers saved me and my angel, but not the beautiful woman I had know over the years.

The first day at Gran's was hard. Peacekeepers came back to get more information and my poor angel didn't know why the officers or as the angel called them, good guys, came by. I told him slowly in a way that a one year old could understand, "Mommy is with the angels now buddy." The little bundle of joy disappeared while I spoke to the Peacekeepers. Xander's mom went with the angels to watch over my own angel, while my father went to the worst place any person could go. Somewhere far away from Xander and I. I still have the dreams of my father's knife plunging my beauty. Gran's was rough for awhile, until all of us got into a routine of making sure Xander was happy and healthy.

Life was rough for me, but as long as he was happy I could live on. He was the thing I woke up in the morning for. It was my angel who got me up in the morning and allowed me to sleep whatever sleep I could get at night. He was the thing that got me through my two jobs throughout the day. Enough to sustain Gran, my angel and I. I love my angel with all of my heart and there is nothing that will make me stop loving him. Gran takes good care of him and Xander always tells me that when they read, it reminds him of mommy. He's a smart child for his age, always has been a smart child. Too smart, some days, he'd ask me things about his mother and I'd tell him everything I could. How we met, her favorite things, how much she loved him, and stories about anything he could think of at the time. Xander doesn't ask often about her, it's a touchy subject for me and he knows I'm not keen on talking about her, but curiosity gets to my angel.

Leaving the house was always the hardest for me. I had to watch my angel's eyes got teary eyed as he waved to me. I told him that there was no such thing as goodbyes. Smart move on my part, it makes it a bit easier in the long run for both of us to leave the other. He asked if he'd see his mother again. My response was simple, "Of course, Buddy. It'll just be a long, long time until you see her." The little bundle of joy smiled my smile and hugged my leg. I felt tears slipping and walked out of the room, my excuse flowing from my tongue quickly. Losing it wasn't a part of my routine. Once upon a time I thought I was strong and tears were for the weak, but now I see tears are for the strong and I am the weak.

My first job was tough work for me. Labor intensive and full of injuries. Orchard work wasn't what I thought it would be from a young age. My father used to work in one. His blue eyes always clouded with a pain that I caused. My promise was to never end up like him. Forcing my angel to do everything on his own and to come home to beatings for stupid little things. I swiped at my arm quickly and focused back onto my orchard work. Simple, hardworking, and tiring is what I would call the job. My muscular body was built from this job alone. So much labor and long hours built my body into something girls used to ogle at, but I don't see the point in it. My heart belonged to my beauty and it had died with her. The tan on my skin came from the job, out in the sun most days trying to keep working harder than I could ever have. My father would have loved to see me like this, forced to such harsh conditions.

My second job was a lot more relaxing. In fact, Gran got me the job. One of her old friends from back in the day owned a little shop with little toys and things. I would run the register, sweep the floors, organize the toys, do inventory. Everything in the shop was put into place by myself. Gran's friend was an elderly woman, who enjoyed having someone a lot younger to help her around. The woman always told me of how her children had children of their own and jobs of their own and that's why she needed my help. Gran got the job for me before I even had to ask. Gran, in her own words, told me, "We need the money Cyro, and I'm also sick of seeing you moping. It'll allow you to get yourself out there again and meet new people." So far all he had met were older women who wanted to company of a young man in their bedroom. Nice remarks and a fake smile on his face as he would reject every offer. It was a job and that's all it needed to be.

When he would get home, Xander would be waiting by the door. A smile on his face as I walk in through the door. I'd plop my feet down on the cushion in front of the couch and sit back. My little angel would talk for hours on end about how his day was. If I was being honest, I only half listened. My little angel then would ask about my day and I'd tell him every little detail, leaving out the older women part. A smile on his face as I spoke. Everyday he wanted to know how his daddy was such a strong guy and lift such heavy loads of fruit, branches, and other objects. Dinner would be ready and they would eat in a comfortable silence.

Storytime and bathtime were a personal favorite of mine. Seeing little Xander play in the bath showed him how much Xander was growing. His imagination beginning to form as he played with toys that once belonged to me in the tub. My hands stroking through his soft locks of blonde hair, washing it to perfection. The grin from his angel knocking him back into a happier state. Storytime wasn't the typical story time with Gran. Xander always said it was stowytime, but really it was him saying 'I want to hear about how you were as a kid.' I would tell him everything I could tell a one year old. I'd tell him about my cousin who was reaped. Tell him about how I was during school, which wasn't as great as you'd think. I'm not the smartest guy out there. My friends in school always said I was nothing but shy. I didn't talk to anyone. I was always an outsider and the little friend I had played games in the orchards with me. It was more about being afraid to show my bruises or letting people see them.

There was always one stowy that was his favorite though. The story of how I met his mother. It's not really that great of a story, but I would tell him anyways. We were young and in school. A shy kid like me was always hiding away in some corner of the lunch room. She was a popular girl and every guy wanted to date her. It was a complete accident with how we met. My lunch I made at home was forgotten by myself. I had to go get a school lunch. At the time I didn't know I needed money for it, but I didn't have any. The lady at the place was arguing with me to put it back, but my beauty was so nice to me. She bought me lunch. A lunch that meant so much to me at the time, since it was the only real meal I had for so long. The beauty that I ended up having a kid with introduced herself and I introduced myself back in the shy way that I did. Her hand brushed mine as I fled the scene to eat my meal. Days and days passed and she'd way at me in the hall or talk to me if we had a class together. My hands always shaking with each conversation. She broke my walls down and eventually we ended up dating for such a long time. A beautiful accident happened and thus my angel was born.

Xan always loved that story, some nights he'd fall asleep to it. Other nights, he'd be awake and tell me that he wants to meet someone like I did. My chuckle escapes before I can catch it. Xander looks up happily and wraps his little arms around me, or well as much as he can get around me. My strong arms lift up the angel and he's drifting between the one place he was the happiest. A dreamland where mothers exist and he could eat all the sweets he wanted. my arms would set him down gently and tuck in the sleeping angel. My lips would reach his forehead and I would let a little goodnight kiss escape. My eyes would watch his sleeping form as I'd make my exit into my own room.

My bed was cold every night. An emptiness that couldn't be filled by anyone, but her. That's what I thought the first night, but since the supposed nightmares, it's been filled with his little angel. The little legs could be heard stomping down the hallway. A sad smile already forming on my face as he'd open the door and whisper something about nightmares. The little angel would climb into the bed, my arm slowly wrapping itself protectively around his little figure. The angel's little arms wrapping around my own body. This was the best time of night. The moment that my little angel held me together. Held the pieces of my broken mind and soul together like glue. I live for him and he lives for me. It was an empty world full of negativity, but some nights, there is a candle that sets fire to the negative hand. The candle is Xander and I am the world. Without one, there would be no other.