evan macmillan . d12 . cbd1

evan macmillan - "trapper"

evan macmillan has never been good at making friends. with an old man like the one he has, how could you be? it's rather tricky to make friends if your father is a verbally and physically abusive supervisor to everyone else's mothers and fathers. every ounce of charisma in the world couldn't change the fact that mr. macmillan had a quota to fill, and he'd be damned if anyone prevent it.

evan loves his father, don't be mistaken. every now and again, they'd wander out to the more deserted parts of district twelve and lay rusty bear traps for whoever whatever might be walking by. but still, his father's tactics can be daunting.

maggots. that's what evan learned he called them when he started taking shifts as his father's second. not the critters that lurk deep in the mines, but the people that worked tirelessly for him while he barely lifted a finger unless it was to hit one of the miners.

it makes evan sick to think that he's being groomed to inherit this immense burden when his father grows old. no amount of apologies can reverse the horror he saw and others endured. no sane person could want that.

that's exactly what evan told his father: that there was no way he'd accept that position after him. but his father grabbed evan by the collar, looked straight into his sky blue eyes and whispered {"either you beat down these pesky fucking maggots, or you become one."} his father gave him a gentle shove and evan fell back onto his side, scraping his arm and cheek up against the exposed rock of the mine.

and so the bear trap laid itself out in front of him, rusty and ready to snap. the only question left unanswered was if evan macmillan would step in it on his own or push everyone else in.