Ashes {and} Pictures // (meg)

Numbers had never particularly interested him. He much preferred words, with their ability to ensnare an audience, to portray a soul, to change minds- for better, or for worse. Words had made him who he was today- those of his father, those of the Bible, those of his own pleas for help- and despite everything, he was quite proud of that person. But numbers, numbers had done nothing for him. Calculus- something he had never, before now, paid any attention too- swirled on the page in front of him. If the class were not compulsory, he would never be here- but rules were rules, and the ink on his forearm was indelible.

His mind wandered to the words he would write tonight. Perhaps he could mention something about numbers, about how the only answer he ever reached through them was the infinite. He only reached the answers he was searching for, after all. At least in scientific subjects, he had some grasp over the fact that the universe could be described in formulas because the universe was perfectly designed.

He always had a good degree of control over himself, and believed in control of himself- his God was guidance and a goal, but not someone who set a path for him. He worked hard to get where he wanted to go, and to do so he could not let go of himself. After all, at the end of the day Augustus wanted nothing more than what he knew was achievable through discipline and the right frame of mind.

The clock dragged seconds on its hands as if they were leaden. Just recently, he had developed an obsession with time. The way that it was all just a perception, the way that what was a year to him could seem a minute to the next person. And, as he aged, the weeks seemed to turn faster and faster, April somehow blending into May, Fourteen now being eighteen and childhood somehow verging on adultery. It scared him a little, that his whole life was running ahead of him, just out of his grip. And if he had lost hold on time, what else was he going to let fall from his clutch?

But right now, there was no problem with time going too fast. Indeed, quite the opposite- unanswered problems long given up on stared blankly up at him, as if they had some special force that made minutes seem like hours. The murmur of the class was that of a cold beehive, lacking energy or motivation. Suddenly, words hit him, cutting through the room’s buzz.

“Whore! Bitch!”

He knew the kid, of course. His handful of geometry lessons had shown him that this was the kid who was different, the one who most just ignored. The stream of cusswords that cascaded like a polluted waterfall from his mouth seemed to hold no real meaning to anyone else, but Gus cringed at them all the same. He had always been taught that those words were sinful, immoral, wrong. Here, their uses were different to those in District One- they were used more freely, but still not as a conversation starter, not like this.

Honestly, Gus wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t going to ignore the boy, because he wasn’t like that- if he could help in anyway, he would. But he didn’t know whether he was being insulted, or summoned in some District Thirteen-fashion that he was uninformed as to. Perhaps the words were not even directed at him, intended to abuse some other class member- and yet, the boy was looking straight at him. In any case, he wanted to clarify at least a little of his uncertainness.

“Sorry, are you, um, talking to me?”

What’s the kid’s problem? He thought, not unkindly but genuinely concerned. Perhaps it was a sickness, a test of his strength. Or maybe a devil within him that he had let get the best of him- Gus had been tested with those a few times now, but had always managed to overcome them. Maybe he was just another one of those stray creatures that Gus found along his road, limping and downtrodden, pleading to be brought back to health.

Perhaps this one, he would be able to fix.

One lesson he had learnt, a fact he was quite proud of, was that everyone was broken. If they didn’t read it on the outside, then their wounds were interior, and that was the most dangerous kind. Cuts that can’t breath quickly become infected, and bad blood taints the whole body. And so, if this boy painted his fractures with his wicked words, then maybe he was one of the lucky few that were whole on the inside.

On more than one occasion, Augustus had been called ignorant. He, however, didn’t believe this. Just because he, unlike what seemed to be the rest of the world, did not pay close attention to the immoral goings-on of the planet did not mean he was ignorant. He liked to think of himself of comfort-minded, not involving himself in things that he was not involved in. Curse words were a part of this. Their noises were foreign to his ears, words not in his vocabulary. And so, when the kid explained that he couldn’t help the words that came out of his mouth, Gus was shocked. He had no idea that such a condition even existed. Perhaps he didn’t think he was ignorant, but truly, he was.

He pondered what it would be like, to be in the kid’s situation. Words were all he had to hold onto- words that were written, words of the past, but mostly the words that came out of his mouth, and expressed who he was. If he were to loose even that little pleasure? He’d be lost, truly lost. There were some things in his life that his Lord decided, but there were some things that he had the freedom to control. If he lost that, there’d be no reason to keep going, nothing to work towards. His future had not yet been decided, and it was his words that shaped it.

“Oh, um, that’s ok.” He said, trying to ignore the quiver in his stomach and instead focus on water-colour painting a dilute smile onto his face. “Augustus Asq-“

“God damn!”

The smile fell for just a moment, as Gus thought about how much the phrase didn’t make sense. He’d always been taught that God was not damning, God was redemptive- it was human nature that did the damning. He was about to say something, too, only he remembered that the words weren’t of the boy’s doing. He pinned up the grin again, letting teeth poke through his taunt lips, and went to finish his sentence.

“Asquith, Augustus Asquith, fresh out of district one.”

The smile on his face was becoming more genuine, now. Despite everything, there was something about the boy and his apologetic nature that he liked, even if his unwarranted words shocked him. He always liked the oddballs, the ones that he thought he could help in some way. At home, he had spent a lot of time trying to help the kids at church, but that was all about building better relationships, mostly with their parents and with God. This kid, he had real problems, and Gus guessed that they didn’t stop at the swearing. Surely, surely, your mind couldn’t be like that without something else happening to it. Surely, you couldn’t just be born like that, for no reason at all.

Turning back to the black sheet of paper that he was supposed to be plastering with formulas and numbers, Gus let out a sigh. He had no idea what any of this meant.

“Is it just me, or does none of this have any practical application in the real world?” he said, laughing. Learning just for the sake of having knowledge seemed a bit pointless to him. He’d much rather spend time alone with his thoughts, or with other peoples thoughts, than with numbers which he’d never have to use again after his formal education was over. He was pretty certain that he did ten times the learning outside of the classroom than he had ever done inside it.