Jarrah Galvon D12 Done

"Hurry it up boy! I ain't got all day and the suns fadin'!" The old man behind one of the stands shouts as I set another crate down. "Yes sir," Which wasn't what I wanted to say, but was for the best. I've already pissed the old geezer off twice this morning and wasn't hankering for thrice. As much as I'd like to be done with this job, I need it. I'm almost done for the day anyways. Just a couple more crates to move off the kart and that's it. Glancing over at the load still awaiting me on the kart I scan over whats inside. A couple glass bottles in one, rusty hairpins in another, and shards of a mirror in others. All I got out of that was a bunch of easily breakable sharp objects so I reach for a pair of handling gloves that I keep for these kind of situations. "You be careful with those kid! That's the rare stuff, worth more than your pay," Clenching my jaw, I give another monotone 'yes sir' before picking up the first crate. It's a bit of an escalation with the kart being only a foot off the ground and me being 6'1. A few things click together as I rise here and there, but all is well and I set the first crate down behind the stand.

My employer sits a few feet away and watches my every move. His wrinkled fingers flipping through the money he had gotten from today's sales. My eye starts to twitch a little as I know that only less than one fourth of that money will go to me. Hey, pay is pay and you're in no position to be complaining about it. Moving on to the next, its transport goes just as smoothly as the last and this continues for about ten minutes. The sun gets a little lower and the old mans stare doesn't get any lighter. Looking over at the kart, I wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist. The sweat stings my cuts that I had recently gotten this morning, but I barely notice. My hands are always getting cut up, it's nothing new. But I can feel the muscles in my back tensing up a bit and that's not good. There's one more left and my pillow is with in reach. Wrapping my capable hands around the edges of the crate, I lift it up off the kart and make my last trip to the back of the stand. Then everything goes white. Like, bright white. The sun bounces off the mirror shards and directly into my eyes. My first instinct is to cover my eyes, so I do. But instead of being a competent person and just shutting my eyelids, I use my hands. The relief I feel once the assault on my eyes is gone is cut short by the crash I hear when the crate hits the floor.

Oh no. No, no, no, no,no... Ever so cautiously, I take my hands away from eyes. I can already hear the words that will be said before the old man even jumps out of his seat. "That's it, you're done! And you can forget about your pay! That merchandise would have at least bought me some decent food to eat," I feel my heart just sink in my chest. But at the same time, something snaps. A sort of crooked smirk reaches my lips as I start to realize the freedom I had now. This was going to be fun. "Alright, you old fart. Lets see if you can find someone strong enough and actually willing to do your little chores. God knows you can't. Throw your back out at soon as you'd bend over," I can see his face getting red with anger at my unfazed words as I tuck my working gloves into my back pocket. If it was one thing I was definitely good at, it was making people mad. "Now you listen here boy-" "Oh, but that's the thing gramps. I don't have to listen to you anymore, remember? Or is that Alzheimer's finally catching up to you?" Okay, now I was pushing my limits. If I didn't stop, I knew I wouldn't be able to come anywhere near this part of the market again. I see the old man reach for something that looks like a hammer or something and I don't stick around to find out what he's gonna do with it.

I dart through a few clusters of shop owners and customers that shop this late and find refuge in a narrow alley space between a tavern and someones wash house. The smell of soap and low grade whiskey don't mix well. I watch the old man run past and slouch against the wall when I'm sure he's gone. Smooth move man. Now what are you going to bring home? Dirt? You can't eat dirt. As I run my fingers through my hair I notice the sudden darkness that the sky has taken on. Not only was sun pretty much set, but clouds began to cover the stars. My suspicion is met with a clap of thunder and I sigh. Nothing like a walk home in the rain. Now I'll be poor and sick. As the rain starts to drizzle down, bits of it trickle down the crack between the two roofs and they start to form pools in the dirt. One has started to form on one side of me and I glance down at it. Its surface is disrupted every few seconds by a new drip of water, but other than that, it's just as good as any mirror. My features look slightly warped, but I can make myself out all the same. Dark eyes and black wavy hair to match that comes down right above my shoulders. Tanned skin, high cheek bones and a chiseled chin. My uncle tells me I look just like my dad when he was my age. I've never quite known how to take that. My old mans not exactly someone you want to be compared to from what I hear about him.

I know I have to eventually get up and go home some time. But where I'm sitting the rain doesn't get me too bad and it's kind of peaceful here. There's no shouting or needless noise. Just the patter of the rain and the occasional overheard conversation between shop owner and customer. Definitely the most amount of quiet peace that I've had in a long time. But I can't stay. My uncle is probably wondering where I am and my brother is most likely starting to freak out about now. Close your eyes. A little bit of rest wont hurt... So I do. For just a moment I shut my eyes and let everything drift off. For a second there's no job, no family, no District 12, no Games, just rest. Sweet, peaceful rest. A place where the world stops spinning and where my heart can be free to relax. A place that only exists in my wildest dreams. "Well, would you look at that. We've got ourselves a little sleepin' beauty boys!"

My world of rest and peace is suddenly torn away from me as my eyes snap open. There standing around me are three boys. All of whom I recognize from school. I'll be honest, they're straight up jerks. Just because they're all seventeen they think they own the place. Like their age gives some sort of right of passage to be complete douches to everyone else. "What do you want," I more state than ask through gritted teeth. Closing my eyes again and trying to regain what I've lost. I like to think that I'm a pretty patient person, that I think before I act. But deep down I know I'm reckless and probably don't say the smartest things. "You're kind of in our spot, princess," Their leader states. I can hear the irritation in his voice at my reaction. Apparently not caring pisses a lot of people off. "Sounds more like a personal problem to me," You've always got something smart to say, don't you. Do you want to get beat up someday? Apparently that 'someday' is today, because that's exactly what happens. They start by kicking me in my ribs, hard, which catches me off guard and sends me into the mud on my side.

I let out a yelp as one of them gets me real good with their boot and I struggle to find a way to fight back. Once they get tired of kicking me, two of them hold me up by my arms like a scarecrow and just let their leader beat the crap out of me. He punches me in my gut, my chest, my face. At this point you'd think that any sane person would start yelling out for help right about now. But I've known for a long while that I'm not sane. It might sound crazy, but I refuse to let them hear me scream. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out for help. They'd have to earn my respect before I let that happen. For a moment the punches stop so he can catch his breath and I can feel the bruises forming all over my body. A black eye is starting to take shape on my face and I think there's a cut on my forehead. Rather deep one at that, seeing as how blood is starting to drip into my good eye. Even through all the pain and aches I can feel the guys grip loosen a bit on my arms. At this point, my stubborn brains gears start turning. You'd think it'd be too busy nursing something like oh, I don't know, a concussion. A thought pops into my head and I know immediately it's a stupid idea. But I guess my adrenaline finally wants to kick in, so I do it anyway. Placing my right foot on the wall, I use that leverage and spring off of it. All the while snapping my foot out in a kick and in one single motion I've managed to force their leaders back to the other wall with a kick to the chest. A sort of shocked feeling comes over my two captors and I quickly wriggle out of their grasp before they have the good sense to beat me themselves.

"Get him!" the leaders deep voice rings out in the night air and I run as hard as my body will let me in the dark. My ribs are starting to give me some trouble and things are starting to get a little fuzzy in my head. The fact that the rain has gotten heavier doesn't help neither. Every step splashes up mud in my face and makes me have to wipe my eyes every few seconds. You should've just kept your mouth shut and moved! They could've killed you back there and no one would be the wiser. I can hear their footsteps pounding behind me and I take a sharp turn into another small ally way. Except I actually know where this one goes. I don't bother to check if they followed me, but I don't they did. I can't hear their footsteps anymore. This ally way leads to the back of my house and I can make out a single candle through the window. I stop a few yards away from my house and heave deep, ragged breaths. In it's light I can see my uncles slightly shadowed face. He looks uneasy and restless. It takes a good amount of my self control to not just lay here in the ally and go to sleep. Sleeping in the mud sounds way better than confronting my uncle, especially when I have to tell him I lost my job. But I'll have to face him in the morning either way, so I take a few steps forward. I'm pretty positive that I've broken one of my ribs, because that's what aches the most. As I inch closer to the back door I can feel my adrenaline slipping away and begin to cradle my ribcage with my right arm. If I play this smart, I might actually get by tonight. Swallowing a hard lump in my throat, I reach my hand out and slowly turn the knob.

"Where have you been," My uncles rough voice cuts through the air like a knife as I more hobble than step into the house. I notice the couple bottles of alcohol on the kitchen table, as if the smell alone wasn't enough to tip me off that he's had more than a sip. I hope he just lets me go to my room. I hope that he wont notice my bruises and cuts. But I might as well be asking the Capitol to spare me from the reaping. I try my luck at slipping by, but am interrupted by the crash of a bottle a foot in front of my face. "I thought I asked you a question! Where have you been!" I clench my jaw and look at him through my peripherals. He's turned around in his chair and barely propping himself up off the table, another bottle firmly in his grasp. "I was working and I'd like to go to bed if you don't mind," My words come out harsher than I intend them to, but I don't think he notices. Or maybe he does. I can never tell when he's like this. "Right, and I'm a Capitol citizen. Ya' think I'm stupid, boy? Well I'm not! I'm not like your old man! No matter what ma sa-," I don't give him time to finish. This is when he starts babbling about my dad and I don't like to stick around for it. It's also the time when he's not too vigilant so I slip into my room. Judging by the way I can still hear him talking through the door, I don't think he's noticed. In the dark I can see my brother's form lying in his bed. Our house is small so we share a room.

In the dark I can see a book lying open on his stomach which signals that he's out cold. My brother may be a couple years younger than me, but he's sure as hell a lot smarter. Not exactly sure why that matters though. Being book smart hardly does a thing for you in the mines. He thinks that if he studies hard enough he can actually become something and leave this place. I'd tell him other wise, but I don't have the heart. Besides, I think he's taken enough crap about it from our uncle as it is. I go on over to my bed on the other side of the room and tuck myself in. Something crashes in the kitchen and I'm guessing it's more bottles. I can hear my uncle stumbling about and shouting profanities at the walls. Most of them about my dad and how he was a golden child to my grandparents and then him turning out to be, in my uncles words, 'a low life drunken bastard'. In the beginning, when me and my brother came to live with him, his words would upset me and I'd beg him to stop. But now, I guess you could say it's like a timer in my day. Hear about it when he's sober in the morning, then the uncensored version when I go to bed. There are times when the uncensored version can turn into the violent version. But it's not that bad. As long as he turns on me and not my brother then it's...bearable.

The crashing sounds get aggressively louder and I think he's just smashing bottles for fun at this point. It's moments like these that I'm glad my brother can be such a heavy sleeper. If I could just protect him from the whole world I would. There are days when he's talking about his dream to be a doctor and how he wants to work in those fancy Capitol hospitals... just the way he makes it sound... almost like it's possible. It'll never happen. I shouldn't let him build up his hopes like that. But if I put him down, am I any better than our uncle? I furrow my eyebrows and pinch the bridge of my nose. I'm getting way too deep and if I don't stop I'm just going to end up drowning in my thoughts and feelings. So instead I turn over on my stomach and shove my face into the pillow. Bad move. The pain I feel in my ribs is intense and I can feel it all through out my torso. Like someone just reached inside me and twisted up my ribcage. I flip back over on my back and the pain subsides a bit, but it still hurts. I glance over at my brother and the wheels start turning in my head like a default to distract me from the pain. Maybe he wouldn't reach the Capitol, but whats the harm in becoming a local doctor? It would definitely keep him out of the Seam. Probably not as glamorous as he would want, but it's better than here. Anywhere is better than here.

The light from under the door goes out and the house turns quiet. I don't dare breathe until I hear the sound of his bed creak down the hall. Lots of sounds travel in this house. We're at least free of secrets here. Walls are too thin to stand the weight of secrets. I think for the first time today in a long while I let my brain relax a little. There's very few times in the year that I have time alone to myself. I'm always busy on a job, helping my brother out, or trying to dodge my uncle and his drunken temper tantrums. So instead of laying here and pondering about all the things that make me want to go into a hole and never come out, I dream. I dream with my eyes open about everything I wish that was and everything I wish could be. The way I see it, if I spend precious moments to myself reflecting and trying to figure everything out, I'd just end up depressed. I've got a pretty good example of what being depressed looks like and it's sleeping right down the hall. I can't be that. I won't be that. So I dream of everything that makes me happy. And the last thing I remember thinking about was me and my brother running away from district twelve, then my eyes close and I'm left in the darkness that is sleep.