Wade Gordon; District Twelve - Fin!

Wade Gordon

Darkness seeped over the windows. One by one the sounds of the crickets clammered over the silence that once took over the day. The orchestra of the wind instruments lulled the creatures into bed while bringing out the nocturnal beasts to feast upon the leftovers of the dead that couldn't make it through yet another day. In district twelve, death was a normal occurence. Starvation and beatings for those stealing to make ends meet was nothing more than a passing eye at the city center. Peacekeepers only could find themselves amused by the sound of the whip across someone's skin and drawing crimson to paint the ground and draw out the eyes to watch in fear.

Pools of blue watch hesitantly from far away at the baker, just across from the whipping post. The smell wafting his direction, drawing saliva to flood his mouth and entice his senses of starvation. It was a do or die moment as the gears in his head keep turning. The threat of the whipping post seem to tell him what he needn't do, but the assault on his stomach lurching him forward as he calmly extracted himself from the garbage bin he'd been hiding in. Plastic stuck to his shoe, crinkling with every other step and it's as though the miniscule sound was like sounding a gun in a library. His fingers shook and his heart raced from beneath the bones in his ribcage almost as if that was louder than the crinkle of plastic.

He peered to each individual soul he passed by almost swearing they could see into this five foot boy's mind and read his very thoughts that were screaming to them. His eyes sauntered to the ground, watching their feet, his eyes drawn heavily to the left shoes.

"Stop." He muttered, knowing that later he would fix his fetish for left shoes later on after his stomach was settled from the lack of meals. With Wendell's absense, it was tedious to get a meal, as their father had seemed to have taken over once again. Without that harrowing threat in the household, a new threat had once again emerged.

Fingers dirtied up the window as he peered inside, peeking quickly to see inside the sweet smelling bakery. His tongue lapped at his lips in hunger and he looked around himself. "Just... be. Quick."

The baker had turned to go through the door, his hands full with a rack of fresh bread to display on the counter.

"Go away..." Wade wandered to the door. His heart stammering even more against his petite chest and skinny frame. His dark, dirty hair fell over his sleep deprived eyes. His dirty face acted as camoflauge so as that no one seemed to take notice of the little boy plotting the demise of the baker's bread.

A chuckle from the other room drew Wade's attention to look inside. The baker's wife came in with a jar and suddenly an argument took over between them otherwise of a friendly nature. Their disappearance followed proving to be worthy moment as the last costomer exited. The door slowly started to swing close with just enough for him to slip his sneaky self into the cataclysm of sweet aromas.

"One for me. One for Walter. None for Wendell." A gnarly grin plastered itself on his face as he crawled to the counter, fearfully awaiting any noises of the owners return.

He bobbed his head up, watching through the door as no shadows emerged and his tiny hands clenched around two hot loaves of bread, burning his hands. The sensation of heat warmed his hands and hewrapped them in his shirt, without care of cleanliness.

Like a snake, he slithered out of the bakery and ran as fast as he could. His feet pounding on the dirt as he dodged each and every person. His shoulder knocking into one young gentleman hardly even thirty, and his body crashed to the ground. A small amount of pain radiated through his elbow, however a howl of pain escaped his lips as the man took notice of the boy. He bent down to one knee as forced tears made their debut from Wade's ocean like eyes.

"Son? Are you alright? You shouldn't be running - watch wh..."

"Leave me alone! I bought the bread. Quit trying to steal it. It's all I have, please! HELP! SOMEONE!" His voice barreled out with an aggrivated tone, calling for the help that drew the attention of the seekers to his position. Before their first step, Wade clammered to his feet. His hands gripping around the left shoe of the man, pulling it off, before bounding away still yelling at his false attacker. "Stay away from me!"

A cackle of success left his person as he held fast to the bread and the left shoe that now took over his possession. Quicker than lightning, he slid into the hidden archway in the next alley, pushing himself behind the loose wooden gate and let it lock with a quick 'click'.

"Walter. I got food!" Wade's voice was hoarse and forced. His breath escaping with tremendous force. The bread was placed upon the makeshift table made from an old broken barrel and the remnants of an old milk crate. "The baker was busy. Turned away from his station and there wasn't any customers. It was right out of the oven. Just think, we don't have to share with Wendell anymore. The capitol's keeping him busy." He paused a moment, waiting for his brother to appear, but his presence never gifted him.

"Walter?" He questioned and went off in search of his twin brother. The shoe in his hand was casually placed on the next beaten chair, and his vision quickly searched for his sibling. No sign of him could be found.

A note presented itself on the second entrance to the hideout and the words weren't written in pen but in fingernail markings only visible by the shifting of paper and the indentations left from the force.

"Get home - NOW"

Crooked eyebrows question the note. The absence of his sibling having an awful sensation on his stomach as he turned toward the bread, leaving the shoe laying on the chair and escaping with the partially cooled bread.

Mud caked onto his shoes, soaking through them enough to give his toes a sensation of cold as he reached the residence in which he and his brothers had been born into. His calloused and dainty fingers latched onto the door handle and turned the knob. Voices peeled all around him. His fathers gruff voice, clearly intoxicated once again while their mother's voice merely mumbled inchoherant words while his brother's voice banished their father. A coy crin played on his lips hearing that his brother was now going to take off where Wendell's absence was given.

"I'm home -" The cheerful tone suddenly is defeated with the sigh of the old man - still on the bed. The fingers of the man clutching dearly to his own shirt and a hollow pit of guilt suddenly arose.

"WADE.. WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" His father's voice crashed the scene, turning Wade's grin into a fearsome scowl.

"What do you mean... I was getting food for - "

"You left your grandfather ALONE. YOU LEFT HIM ALONE. HE'S DEAD. LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"

"Look what you've done? You ripped your shirt, Wendell." Their father's voice boomed and the reprocussions of Wendell's actions had earned him a good hit already. The tired, fearful three year old watched as his brother was abused, beaten by their own father. He quaked as their grandfather stood in the path of the fury, refusing to allow the man to hurt his brother any further.

"He deserves it. He should have won -" The words play over in his immature mind. Moment's later, his brother's movement made him seek shelter, to hide away from the onslaught he thought he was about to endure as well. A blanket covered his head with the immature thoughts that he couldn't be seen if he couldn't see.

Wendell's voice lulled him to peace though with an uttered phrase. "I do good. I'm bad. I do bad. I'm bad. I'm sorry I'm bad, daddy - I'm.... not sorry."

"Not sowwy for bad?"

"I did nothing wrong. I went to get food. How dare you blame me, dad. It's your fault. If you would earn the money for food instead wasting it on alcohol and letting Pop Pop work all the damn time..." A hand rushes to meet with his face. A clear sound of skin to skin contact echoed in the room as the boy crashed to the floor, a hand immediately going to sooth the irritated skin. No sound emerged but he eagerly rubbed the soreness. A hiss of pain Wade's vision never went north. Instead, he found no courage to speak at all.

"You and your brother - if you had taken more tessera - if you two -hiccup- had made sure you got reaped, then your brother and grandfather would still be -hiccup- alive! Wendell's dead, Wade. Are you happy now? Are you both happy? Wendell is dead and now you two will take his place!"

A searing pain streaked across his face once again, highlighted already from his father's hand. Walter's voice bellowed out and without realization, the door was shoved open with a heavy crack and Wade's form disappeared out of sight.

"I'm bad, and that's good. I'll never be good and that's not bad." The matra repeated from Wade's lip as the thought of his brother's death released him from that abusive sibling and back into the clutches of their own father. The tribute that killed him would pay and if he couldn't he would make sure their family would.

Wade's face flushed with redness as the familiar click of the loose wooden gate secured his location and subtle tears escaped the eyes that had seen too much.

"I hate you, Wendell. I wish you were still alive."