arthur valentine | district ten | fin [cbd1]

”Arthur, my boy!” Strangers by blood but for years we have bonded like a father and son. An unlikely guardian to present himself after I dared to dip my hand into his saddle bag. The man opened his arms to a small thief and now he has me running the big jobs. A thief amongst the working men, picking from those more fortunate than I but for what?

This aint no life of luxury I am living.

Outlawed to a life of crime, one eye open as I sleep in watch for those men in the white armour. I guess I am stuck here now. Stuck here filling my pockets with the rich man’s gold, the big man says he has a plan. Has the wild idea that District Thirteen is still alive, says he will get us there to finally live our lives.

Aint we already living now?

District Thirteen is painted to be a faraway paradise but it doesn’t fill my dreams. Maybe my own ranch or a shop to display all my drawings. Each page of the journal I carry is decorated with my life, not that it is likely tale than many would want to read anyway. Maybe his plan is all I have, there really is no chance that I am getting redemption with the choices I have made. Damn, I am an ugly fool who has already dug his grave. Just my luck we will be close to escaping and my name will be pulled from that glass bowl.

One small petty choice and I am now I am trapped in an inescapable life. My heart is sealed to the fools that followed into this deluded gang that hides in the shadows. I am just a ghost to the world.