Marchello Donner - District 6 [Finished]

MARCHELLO "MARC" DONNER



I'm not very old, according to some, still vulnerable to the Games but only just. I'm eighteen, and I've been living on the streets of District six for some time now. At least I've had a roof over my head recently, but it's only thanks to January and the Yearlings.

Did I let you down to get that sound
And break my knees to get release
And you needed some just to take you from
And I hit you more
Is your face still sore?

PLEASE JUST FOLLOW ME,

February tells me I'm handsome, though I'm not sure how much I believe her. She says my eyes are nice, their not-quite green, not-quite blue colour drawing a person's gaze. I wonder if Aibrean likes my eyes, but I never ask and she never says. My hair is brown, though sometimes people say it looks either black or blonde, depending on the light. I know that it definitely looks black when it's wet, but I suppose that in shadows it might as well. February also says that my face is nice, that my nose and mouth are the right size and my eyebrows show real character with my expressions. I suppose that my nose doesn't look too bad, and my mouth is a decent size. My lips are a little thin, but it fits me well. I got lucky with my eyebrows, being as they are a little darker than my hair, and not too bushy.

Sorry but I tried
It was never mine
And I can still pretend
I guess it all depends
I'm still a little crazy all the time
But I still try to hide it
That's still mine

I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ME,

I stand at a full height of approximately 6'0", only a little shorter than January. My shoulders are a little broader than most, but because of my build, it doesn't look too off. My arms are a pretty good length, though they may be a little shorter than I would like. My legs make up about half of my height, and most of the other half is my torso. I'm not the most muscular boy my age, but I am one of the strongest in the group. I've developed muscles from the large assortment of jobs I have taken, not all at once mind you.

What a cheap perfume
I hate this room
So testify
But I still tried
And you need that stamp
Little handshake tramp
And you hit me more
And my face is still sore

'CAUSE I WANT YOU ALL TO MYSELF.

I will admit, I'm not always the nicest guy but I never mean to hurt anyone. I just get frustrated sometimes, okay a lot of the time. I'm a little quick to anger, it's true, but I just feel like people never listen to me. They should, though, I am January's right-hand man. We were friends before this whole group thing, before we knew Julyan even. I should be the one that is looked to when January's not around. But no, of course not, I am too unpredictable and irritable. Let's have February lead us instead, she's better for the job. Yeah, alright, she is better for the job. She's calmer and more levelheaded than I am, most of the time, though she can have a nasty temper at times. But who do they go to if both January and February are gone? Not Marchello, no he's not good enough. Let's ask Julyan what we should do, he's like a mini January, he should know. It's just so frustrating, it's like no one thinks I'm smart enough to help lead the group.

That's not to say that January doesn't listen to me, because he does. I respect him because he has more experience living on his own that the rest of us do, and because he is a good leader for us. Now don't take me wrong, I'm not interested in him like that, I just respect him as a friend. He does his best to keep me out of situations where my temper might get the best of me, but it doesn't always work. He doesn't try to stop me if I get into a fight, knowing that I do it for a reason. Which is more than the others do. They always say I do it for no reason, but there is always a reason, even if I don't want to admit it. Sometimes, someone will say something or do something that reminds me of my home, before I left to become a street urchin. It just causes me to snap, I know that it's not a good thing but I can't help myself. That is partially the reason why I can never keep a job for more than a few days to a week, the bosses just don't want to deal with me. I suppose I am a little quick to question them, and I do spit retorts a lot, but I only do it because it's necessary. Or I think it's necessary at the time.

Try a little more
a little more
a little more
They slap you like a bitch
and you take it like a whore

I CAN TRY TO SUCK IT UP,

I've been trying to find a job, but it seems that word of my attitude has spread. I try to find small jobs to do, for only a small fee, and have been decently successful. I try hard to bring in enough money for the group, as much because I want us to do well as to impress Maye. I may as well tell you now that it's out there, I like Maye. A lot. I think that see's just so amazing. She's always so nice to me, and she's really beautiful too. But then again, she's nice to everyone. I have no idea whether she likes me or not, but I doubt she does. She and November are close, and it bugs me to see them together. Every time she sees me watching them she tells me that they are just friends, but it seems like more than that. I know I shouldn't be jealous, but I am. I mean, he's three years younger, surely she couldn't like him. But that doesn't stop him from liking her.

It's just like September. She has the biggest, most obvious crush on me, and personally I find it awkward. I try and ignore it, but the signs are so blatant that you would have to be blind and deaf in order not to know. I just hope that Aibrean doesn't think that I like September, otherwise she'll never see that I like her. Girls, why do they have to be so tricky.

Upside down
and around
and around
Just another piece
Till you need another sound

I JUST CAN'T SUCK IT UP.

I grew up with only my father, my mother having left after I was born. She had dumped the responsibility of me on my dad, and hightailed it to the other end of District six. I never heard from her, never knew her, never wanted to know her. My dad never spoke of her, and he always brought home other women. But none of those relationships ever lasted, maybe a month at most. Because of that, my dad was usually grumpy and somewhat short with me. He always complained about having to take care of me, and pay for me and whatnot. He didn't hit me though, not while I was little at least. The beatings didn't start until I was nine.

I had been goofing around with friends from school outside of the little place we lived in. That was another thing about my dad, he didn't really care about me, I was just a burden to him. He let me go anywhere and do anything I wanted, unless I was at home. I tried to stay out of the house as much as I could because of that. Anyways, I was throwing a ball around with my friends when I yelled at one of them to go long. I backed up, I was throwing towards the house so I had to move further. I waited until my friend was ready, or so I thought, and threw the ball as hard as I could. Yeah, it was a genius idea, especially because my aim was a little odd, and my friend was a little slow. It ended up that the ball smashed through the window and spread glass all over the floor, and on the table. Where my dad was sitting, eating lunch.

Faze them out
I know what you scream about
Don't let me down

MAKE ME FEEL LIKE SOMEONE ELSE

He had stormed out of the house, shouting at my friends to scatter. They did, knowing my dad has a short temper, and I was glad to see them do it. I tried to follow them, let my dad cool off and then come back and apologize, but he yelled at me. "Come here boy!" It was bad, because he only calls me 'boy' when he's really mad. I had gone to him, stuttering something about making money to buy a new window. Right then and there, he had brought his arm back then swung it forward and nailed me in the left eye. I had stared at him, it being the first time he had ever done more than yell at me. He had thrown things at times, but he had never hit me.

It got to a point where he would beat me because of someone else's mistake. If he was angry, he would beat me. That was, until I finally struck up the nerve to fight back. I was fourteen and I had grown to stand only a little shorter than he did. When he punched me, a heavy hit to the gut, I gathered my breath and clenched my hand into a fist. He didn't even realize it was coming until my fist had connected with the side of his face. He had been livid, but I didn't care, I had finally fought back. It spat at him and walked off, deciding I would rather live on the street than with a monster like him.

And I did live on the street, for almost a full year. Until I met January that is. He and I became fast friends after working on a job together delivering flour. He had asked if I had anywhere to live, obviously able to tell that I didn't always get to sleep in a bed. We became companions, and January had let me crash with him at the little place he had made for himself. It's been two years since then and we're still friends, except now we live in an abandoned house with ten other kids like us. It's not the greatest, but it's definitely better than my life beforehand.

And the guilt in me is the hurt in you
And the hurt in you is the lost in me
And the lost in me is the need in you
And the need in you is the guilt in me

OTHER

FC: Arran Sly

Lyrics: Shake Tramp by Marianas Trench

Words
50 - Introduction
260 - Appearance
666 - Personality
660 - History
1636 - Total

Try a little more, a little more, a little more
They slap you like a bitch
and you take it like a whore

Upside down, and around, and around
Just another piece
Till you need another sound

odair