kiefer ruston, district nine | finished

I have always been too perceptive for my own good.

My mother used to scold me for it growing up, asking why I could never seem to leave well enough alone. But then I'd stare at the state of our rundown home, and the bills piling on the kitchen table vacant of warm food, joined only by the weight scale that Dad would use to weigh and portion the drugs he sold. I remember the feeling that gave me, then. The shame for a crime I had no part in — guilt I was born into without any say on the matter.

Very early on, I recognized I was living in a den of foxes. Tricksters and con artists. Even my twin brother, my reflection walking on his own two feet, didn't seem too bothered with our lot in life. The way my family saw it, if our circumstances seemed so keen to press our faces into the mud, then they had the right to do whatever was necessary to claw their way out of the filth. Even back then, I could never bring myself to think of myself and them as a 'we.'

They were a separate entity, the monster hiding under my bed — sharing my room, sleeping in the next one over, everywhere. Anywhere I turned my gaze, I would see a rule broken, a line crossed, justice tied down to an altar and bleeding out on the gray stone. It troubled me deeply, stoked the embers in my heart and encouraged me to become someone who was brave. Someone willing to be alone for the sake of being right.

Often, I was called gullible, and naïve, too soft to survive in the real world that had never been kind to the Rustons. But I was standing there, I was breathing, and I refused to see my ability to know what was wrong as a weakness. To this day, my eyes have purpose beyond staring at the things I would like to change. I notice the threads that connect, the constant push and pull. There is good, and there is bad. Balance is not always the answer.

And I listen, and I learn. Not a snitch, not a freedom fighter; I was content to quietly hone my focus on my education. I planted the seeds for the life I wanted for my future, gaze ever forward and never once glancing back to see the things I was slowly but steadily walking away from. I wanted to be more than a boy aware of the harsh reality. I wanted to be a person who could take a stand, make a difference.

Things never really got better. The bills kept piling higher, the hunger kept growing in the pits of our stomachs, the drugs were still being sold, my brother had no qualms filling the groove that fate expected him to fill. Mirror shards — we hit the ground and scatter to opposite sides of the room. We collect dust there.

It's strange, to look at an identical face and to see no trace of yourself.

Three years of working night shifts at Prisco's Diner to afford tuition, a lifetime of studying, when I turn seventeen I'm accepted to study at the Peacekeeper Training Academy under the renowned Karma Quinn. My choice has already been made, my position on the battlefield secured. One day, I pack up all of my things, and my father and my mother and my brother just sit there and watch as I remove myself from their lives completely. There is no mourning.

When I walk out the door, I do not stop.

I vow not to yield.