Laurence Bradburn | D4 | 16 | FIN

Laurence Bradburn ~ D4 ~ 16 (FC - Kellan Lutz, will get a picture when I'm on my lunch)

The gritty warmth sifts through my toes as they wiggle deeper into the shore, my firm, calloused fingers erratically tapping along my toned legs. My blue eyes squint against the diamonds dancing off the waves, and my brows knotted as I try to breathe through the racing thoughts that occupy my mind. This is the place that I love to go to when I feel overwrought about whatever my brain decides is too important to ignore. The salty, crisp, cool breeze is helping to quiet my mind, though, and I enjoy the way it rustles through my short dark sandy hair. I find it easier to be out on the sea, though it's easier to only focus on the things I can control, and I trust my crew mates that they'll do their part as well. Being back on shore less is out of my control, and those I don't know give me plenty of pauses.

My mom worries about me not being social enough; when I'm done with work, I like to relax at home or on the beach. I know she means well, but I only have so much of a social battery, and using it to be personable on the ship while trying to work, takes a good deal of that battery. If I had a job that wasn't so physically demanding, it would be easier to be social. I do have a solid friend group, though, that is reliable. I know that I can count on them, and I know that I can give that same report right back to them. They say I'm the funny one somehow, but I just sarcastically point out what I see or make quick comments whenever they come up. It's nice to make people laugh and smile, though.

I subconsciously clench my rectangular jar against the breeze and try to go to my happy place, sitting on my deck boat as I let the waves softly lull me. My lithe yet muscular body relaxed on the deck as I lay out in the sun, its light reflecting off my high cheekbones. While I don't work out like the Careers, do, I still manage to get a nice build working on the boats and trying to best to work out at home. Being a Career is something I don't envy; preparing your whole life to die just doesn't sound pleasant. Granted, we've been doing really well in the Games these past few years, even having back-to-back Victors. It's still something I hope to avoid; winning the Games has never been a goal of mine.

The sun starts to fall lower into the sky as the blue slowly turns to a cool-toned orange. I could watch the sunset every day and still find something new. But I still have chores to finish at home, and I don't like disappointing my parents. They're pretty chill for the most part, which is nice, but disappointing them is much worse. They've been incredibly supportive, with my dad teaching me how to fish and ensuring I can care for myself. My mother ensured I knew how to cook and care for my house when I moved out.

We've always been comfortable, but I still gotta work to help out around the house. We're not as rich as the career families, but we never had to worry about getting food on the table or having enough to pay bills. Part of the reason my parents encouraged me to get a job, besides the fact that the Capitol would probably be mad that I'm not training, is to teach me financial responsibility. If I want something for myself, I need to get it for myself. Unless it's something big, then my parents would help me out. I must admit it's annoying that I need to get things for myself, but I know I'm the long run, I would be better with my money, as long as I make it past the Reaping age. I still got three years until I turn 19, so there's always that fear of the Reaping. I've been lucky enough to not lose any friends, but I've seen classmates walk up to the stage and never return. I remember seeing replays of the 75th and seeing all of the kids of Four never come back. Granted, one lost to Victor, and she barely survived that fight. I would hate to be in that situation, though, fighting so hard just to narrowly lose.

I walk into our house and smell the fish cooking with parsley and rosemary. Mom's voice drifts through the sizzles of the cooking as she sings quietly. I ask if she needs any help cooking as I steal one of the cooling chips on a rack on the counter. She gives me a playful swat before telling me she's good and to help Dad back in the garden. The back garden is my parents' pride, as they managed to not only have their own herb garden but also keep the yard in pristine condition.

Given that we're on the district's south side, which is considerably dryer than the north, this is a feat. My dad waves me over, and we spend the rest of the evening working on the garden before dinner. We talk and laugh goodheartedly about everything and nothing at the same time. And I'm grateful they have yet to check my room, as it is still a mess. But luckily for me, that can wait til tomorrow.