Fletcher Rhodes D11 (Done)

Fletcher Rhodes.


A clearing sits in the middle of a grouping of trees. A calming wind shutters through the cracks between the trees. The trees' leaves making a calming rustling noise that leaves a resounding calm through the area, but nothing was calm, not inside his head, not outside of his head either. Everything was chaotic. Breathe is what the mind keeps telling him, but air seemed so foreign to his lungs. Short brown hair messily styled upon the top of his head. Green eyes glowing with the green leaves above him. Mother Nature calling to his wishes of peace for only a minute, even if mentally he wouldn't ever have peace inside.

The wind's gentle breeze echoes across the world, caressing everything it touches. A tall man that sits, green eyes closed, as air finds it's way to his lungs. Toned body waits silently, curled up into a sitting position as the owner needs an escape from the reality that he lives in. A name attached to his that creates a euphoric meaning to himself when people recognize it. Large hands bound together in the center of his form. Allowing peace to rest inside of himself, the words gentle giant taking form in himself. Inhale. Exhale. The stress frees itself from his body, but some wounds can't be fixed from the peace of nature. Small drops of water mixed with salt fall from his green eyes. Hair strown from the wind as he rubs at the eyes that allowed him to see the world's beauty and the world's ugliness.

Running away for hours on end was not something that he typically did, but breathing was getting too hard with all eyes trained on his tall body. The performance of the year going to Weaver Rhodes, a family member. Everyone in District Eleven watched with their torturous eyes, waiting for the mental break down of a Rhodes sibling. He could see it in their looks of pity. He could see it in the way that they moved away from him. Rhodes was a label that he wore with a heavy heart and a head held high. There wasn't escape from it ever, so he had to wear it with pride in every place he ended up being, but it was a chain at the same time. Expectations of him were higher than anyone else. The words he's heard of the people that the Rhodes family were basically District Eleven's careers, but he knew what was real and what was not. They would never be like the careers. Murderers for fun, trained to kill. They were people just like the rest of them. Weaver had been like anyone else, ever since Fletcher could remember.

A storm overhead can be heard echoing through the dark halls. Children that once were awake, playing in the rain of day now stay inside, huddled up in their covers, the little amount that they had. Dreaming of wishes and adventures for the next day. There was only two children awake in the quiet home. Himself and Weaver, his family member, were still awake. The storm outside gave way to crack of lightning and the roaring of thunder. Terror strikes through his body as the lightning strikes the ground nearby, the flash of light lights up his dark room. The covers were doing absolutely nothing for cover from the frightening storm for the young boy. Instead of laying in the bed and dealing with it, his frightened figure fled the room, quickly down the hall to Weaver's room.

Weaver lays in bed, awake, listening to the freak storm that was going on outside the house. Silence of the hallways, soon disappears to the silently crying form. Fletcher's body feels on edge from every noise that happens outside and inside the house. Fright makes his body shake like he's freezing in the Fifty Ninth arena. The darkness seems to follow the child in the halls, as soon as he opens the door Weaver is watching him already. Fear strikes through Fletcher's eyes, the storm's raging outside. Fletcher's voice escapes his lips, "W-Weaver, can I sleep with you?" Weaver doesn't reply, or at least, Fletcher doesn't remember if he does, all he remembers is that Weaver pats the side of his bed telling him it was okay. Sleep took the children away for the night, long enough that Fletcher got a good night's rest.

Escape artists were masters at escaping the prying eyes, but he wasn't one of them. Their eyes train on his tall form, watching and waiting for him to break down, but he never was the type to do so publicly. Instead, he breaks internally, a crack upon his shining armor that protected him. Every moment since Weaver had died had been a tortuous moment where the pity in people's eyes haunt his very existence. Every moment, he gets the question if he was okay, and he was okay, for the most part. He cared about them all, but he couldn't break down the walls that built themselves around him to keep him stable.

The path before him had been worn down, rocky, rough, and winding. Much like the paths you take through life, weaving and winding, bumps in the road, smooth and rough roads, they can change at any moment. The path was like Fletcher's own mental health, some days there was nothing but good things and the positivity radiated onto him. Other days, the world seemed to shoving nonsense, hate, pity, and so many more things down his throat. No one could tell which one he had, but it didn't matter either way, Fletcher would act like nothing was wrong, picking up work around the place to ease his mind, but once night hit, his emotions would pour out of his body. Tears dripping onto a pillow as his mind tears at itself, pushing images of his dead family members and words he'd never hear again.

The labels were the worst part of being a Rhodes. Expectations were higher than any of the RHodes could see. Walls so rough to climb that many times they'd fail. He was expected to be strong willed and determined, but that wasn't Fletcher. Fletcher was weak, weaker than he would ever show. A gentle giant whose mental capabilities weren't as great as some of the people within the district. A gentle giant whose will was more about feeling loose and free from everything that bound him down. As a kid he dreamed of flying through the sky, free from the stress of the world below him. No labels, no expectations, no deaths, no rough paths to follow, nothing to break him, but that world would never exist and he knew it wouldn't.

As Fletcher was give birth to the world of the Rhodes and Hunger Games, his mother's wishes for him were for a healthy baby who would thrive in the world around him. It was a wish that wouldn't be fulfilled. The Rhodes boy was no different from his brothers. Strong and kind to all who meet him. Growing up with the plants and orchards that grew upon the lands that they were blessed with. Fletcher was always the one to run into the orchards and hide away from everything bad or just for a moment of peace to himself.

As a kid, nature was his favorite thing to surround himself around. The orchards of fruit trees and nut trees had a clearing at a certain spot, that was quiet and felt like the world was staring down upon him, watching him expecting him to be free from everything. Nature was the guide to who he was, the gentle giant that he would become. Strength in the calm, hope in the chaotic, and beauty in patience. Nature was his escape from the world that he knew. Brothers and him used to sneak out in the middle of the night to see the stars, the trees, and anything they could reach that was within the laws of Panem. Nature's wonders calling to his curiosity and once inside, he was lost within himself and the mental benefits of being around all sort of living and breathing things.

The first tragedy to hit harder than the young boy could have imagined. Bullies from school chased him around like the prey he was. Easy to spot, not too quick, and not as quick witted as the others. Easy prey to the predators of the hunt. Fists lodging into his stomach, chest, face, blood poured softly out of his body as each blow became something he never wanted to do to a person. Something he would never want to see happen, until his life became the intangible life that he somehow lived in. The blood, the anger, the stupidity of the entire situation made him want to break down and give up on everything he knew. Give up on himself, but the world had better plans for him.

The one to deal with the bullies hadn't been himself, but his family member, Kyrian. Who was a lifesaver to himself. Kyrian had dissipated the problem with ease, which just made Fletcher feel weak inside. The boy couldn't even deal with some school bullies, how could he deal with anything else in the world. The Rhodes boy never learned how to feel strong, never learned how to feel anything but weak, even with the capitol taking his family away one by one. Strength was something that people had to learn how to create, but Fletcher never learned what it was to be strong, the only strength he had was his kindness. The bullies created Fletcher to be the nonviolent and kind soul that he was then.

The next tragedy would break everything Fletcher knew about himself and the world around him. Crusader was sent to the hell of a games. Torture and blood encouraged for all to watch with their glowing eyes. That's when the pity started. The death of Crusader sent himself into turmoil, escaping the world through his time spent out in the orchards, exploring the hope that it carried. Fletcher's own hope was dwindling, but he could see all of the hope in the life of the animals, the trees, the plants, and everything under the shining light of the sun.

Tears would stream from his eyes of memories of Crusader flowing through his mind. Shattering everything he knew of himself. Kindness thrown to the winds in bursts of emotion. Anger surging through his body, breaking thing after thing in the nature, only to realize his sense of destruction. Leading to tears of humiliation and despair as he could see what his true act of destruction could be. Never again would he try to tear apart anything around him. Only build up their strength and the hope that they felt.

Tragedy was the creation of Fletcher Rhodes, even if he didn't want to believe it. Harbinger's victory was a pleasant surprise for the Rhodes. A successful member to come home from being sent off to their doom. A third victory in a row for all of District Eleven. The start of something that was building in it's own strength. A bond between the people and the families, but eyes pry at every moment. Pity still stuck to their skin, but praise for all that they had accomplished. Fletcher hated the label, but nothing could change it, so with all of the calmness he had, he accepted it to be apart of him. Fletcher Rhodes was his name and no one could shame it like they had done to others.

The days grow together like a the trees of the orchards. Bunched up and everything feels like it's blowing in the wind quickly. As they grow older, the pity grows with every day, the emotions lodged deep inside of him stay there, until the lonesome nights in bed when he can't get them out of his mind. Mornings spent complimenting whoever made breakfast that morning. Dishes being cleaned by himself like everything was normal. Chores around the house being done in a timely manner. Everything was like clockwork to him. Do this. Do that. Clean this. Clean that. Avoid the eyes. Go walk around. Cry in the center of an orchard. Head home. Sleep.

True strength was unachievable in the world they lived in. The truly strong die young or suffer for the rest of their lives. Fletcher wasn't strong in anyway. Caring to the core of his being, as he felt every little thing that he could see upon their faces. Emotions built up inside, until he bursts like an overflowing dam. True strength was in the people around him, Harbinger, Navya, Katelyn, Kirito, Elidor, Tamron, Kyrian, Asari, they were the true strength that kept him stable. Without family, he truly wouldn't feel strong. Strength wasn't a lonesome ideal, it came from the bonds that united them as a entity. Without any of them, he wouldn't be able to stand there with his label proudly.

As he travels home on the trail of a rocky dusty path, the people around him pity him, but praise him for being able to show himself in front of everyone. They smile when he helps anyone out in whatever way he can. Kind to the end of his life. Feelings that he never would want to hurt, just like he would explain Elidor's cooking was great, when really it was not. Selflessness drenched his skin in everything he did. The day was ending and yet, there was still one thing he had to do for the day.

An older woman, who had once found him crying in the woods when he was just a little boy, carried bags and bags of fruits. Every week, on the same day, the older woman went to the orchards and picked fruits out for herself to keep her strong, since she had no one left. Every week, he'd show up, a tall and handsome man, ready to help the old woman with her bags. An hour of every week spent with the woman who had taught him what it truly was like in the world. Her voice always a calming tone and thankful for him, "Thank you, my dear! How can I repay you?" Every time she always asked, even though he was sure she had his answer memorized by then. "I don't need anything, your smile is payment enough. Have a good night ma'am."

As he lays in his bed, the memories of all the great and bad times that he has had fills him with emotions. Labels were meant to keep a person down, to hold them to a certain standard of being. His label told him that he was some big tough guy, almost career-like, but he wasn't. Gentle by nature, giant by birth. Kindness was the label he held onto the most. Everyone had something about them that wouldn't fit into a label. He hated the name Rhodes for the standard people put him up to, but at the same time, he praised it for the fact that it's the thing that gives him true strength in the world around him.

As the rotation of the clock ticks into the late night, a sleeping form lays with a smile on his face. Arms wrapped around covers like he was hugging someone next to him. The world was full of mysteries that no one truly understood, but as the boy known as Fletcher Rhodes lays in bed fast asleep, never would he have guessed that he was a wonder of world like everyone else that occupied the place. Fletcher's true strength lies in the bonds of family that surround him in other rooms, other houses, other districts, other places, other worlds, as they were all connected. Sleep takes them all into nightmares or dreams, either way, it was another night, which meant another bright morning. Another day for Fletcher Rhodes to continue being himself for himself.