marley cost, district seven | finished

He's a charming bastard, that boy.

literally

But that's beside the point. He's always got the sun on his face; teeth that can blind and shoulders that are permanently burnt. Nothing ever hurts, only stings, and he's always been good at distracting himself. Call him a showoff or a daredevil, it doesn't matter. They're just words. Small truths. He never meets a stranger — a crowd cheers his name as he swims across flooded rivers and climbs dead trees. No one catches him when he falls. That's why he stays airborne.

He's a loner at heart, but it's not like he had a choice. An absent father and a mother that didn't want him; a community home at the edge of the woods and a broken window. The odds were never in his favor. He stayed in that lonely place for twelve years, made himself the center of attention and threw himself into every memory — and then he vanished. No note, no reason, just glass on the floor and a set of footprints. Because he couldn't stay. He wasn't a wanderer, just someone who wanted a home.

A low-paying job and a cabin in the woods; he went to work right as he became old enough to be reaped and damned the consequences. No gates, no rules, just trees to chop and streets to roam and a curfew. Still a cage, but an open one. He never got a childhood, only an adulthood. He tries not to regret it. The callouses on his hands and the scars on his legs. He's a disaster, but nothing special. He's all clumsy limbs and curly hair and bright eyes. No one cares about orphans with big dreams.

Lumberjacks don't need families, but Marley wants one. Fifteen tasteless cakes and fifteen candles; one wish that never changes. A dad that doesn't leave him and a mom that loves him and a brother that guides him and a sister that helps him express his emotions. He has a habit of bottling them up, laughs behind his knuckles because he doesn't know what else to do — but he wants to be open. To be warm and inviting and to not be so afraid. He wants someone in his corner. He'd never ask. Who would answer?

It's not until the 79th, when Mackenzie Pryce is reaped, that his wishes are taken into consideration. He's looking at his own reflection. Bushy eyebrows, lanky body, a grin that could kill. And he knows it's silly, to play-pretend that a dead boy could be his missing brother, but the idea comforts him. It gives him hope. That maybe he hadn't been the only one abandoned, that he has a family out there; puzzle pieces that he has to find and bring together. He creates a haven in his head and he feels safe there. None of his friends, none of the men he works with, bother to ask why he's daydreaming. He's always been lost in the clouds.

And then he hears the rumours, that the young man and his twin were born out of wedlock, that their father was never in the equation. That he didn't want them. And Marley starts to wonder, starts to investigate. He wakes up and chooses to stop dreaming. He's old enough to fight and young enough to beg, so he finds a balance between the two. Because when he stays up all night and watches those screens in the town square, something inside of him is singing. That voice feels familiar, it feels safe, like something he's wanted for so long and only just received.

Mackenzie makes the final blow and Marley's cheer is the loudest in the room. No one wonders why, they just call it pride for his district, but that victor is his brother and he knows it. He prays for it. Mackenzie has a sister, a mother, and all the things Marley's ever wanted. No father, but he turned out just fine. How do you convince someone you're their family? How do you prove it's not just a coincidence that you look so alike? And worst of all, how do you explain how much hope one man can give you? Marley doesn't know how to describe what he's feeling, the sense of belonging in his soul.

He has one more wish now:
'please let my brother want me.'

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[ griffin ]