Post by ines izar d11a 🖤 cait on Nov 29, 2013 20:46:15 GMT -5
I’m sorry to bother you. But I need you.
Ten words. Ten words, and I knew. The messy writing, the flourish of cursive text, the too-wide ‘O’s’ and too-narrow ‘T’s’. I knew.
The moment I stepped through the door, I wanted to flee, returning back to the place I had come from. The familiar faces that greeted me were sceptical and cold, my presence in their home obviously unwanted. But that mustn’t stop a girl.
‘Sampson. Deval.’ My face an unreadable mask of porcelain white skin, I bow slightly, a gesture much too formal for my liking. They step away, as if disgusted by me. They are disgusted by how similar I look to Benat. They do not want to be reminded of his untimely end, when they are forced to live with it every day already. Their eyes give that much away, and all I can do is stand in the doorway, pretending their stares do not affect me.
‘You have his eyes.’An accusation.
And all I can do is stand in the doorway, pretending thire words do not affect me. I would return the sentiment, tell them they share their brother’s eyes, too, but that’s not entirely true. Whilst Deval looks shyly away with his deep brown eyes – just like mine – Sampson stares at me with bright green eyes, challenging me. I look away before either of us can speak. We didn’t want to break any hearts today.
I finally close the door before striding past the boys with quick, sharp steps. One chapter closes as another begins. I feel their eyes take me in as I make my way further into the house, putting more space between myself and the two brothers. Even so, I would not abandon them.
Two months, and already I have lost track of the amount of times I have barked at Deval for wandering off on his own, or told Sampson to get his head out of the clouds. But I’m a traitor: I do the exact same things myself.
Benat wanted them to have someone who cared. Because I was brought here with a goal – to help the two boys whenever I can, however I can. But he made a mistake putting that faith in me. I can barely protect myself from our shared demons.
But for Benat, I try.
The ghost of a beloved brother is not the ideal mother figure for two adolescent boys who are struggling to straighten out their lives before it is too late.
They let me know it every single day.
I don’t want them to turn out like me.
Growing up, I was distanced from the rest of my family. I saw them occasionally as a child, including Benat, Sampson and Deval. I find it sad to think that those family encounters – so few and far between – were some of the best memories of my childhood. For as long as I could remember, I knew my mother and father’s love towards me – their eldest child, their darling girl. I felt it every single day, no matter how tired they would be from working constantly. Unfortunately, at times it almost seemed they forgot I was only four, or five, or six, or seven… and as years went by, my childhood vanished before my very eyes, years of youth wasted as I soon turned to the fields just like them, at such a tender age. I often felt displeased with other children, enjoying life, attending school – luxuries which I would never be able to experience. If I was robbed of my own childhood, why shouldn’t everyone else be?
The note from Benat changed my outlook on these things. After holding my grudge for six years (for I was very good at holding grudges) I felt things change within me. Something about Benat always brought out the best in people. As I spent the next day packing my things, I felt myself soften slightly, eventually warping into a new Nekane, the one which stands here today.
Whilst I changed some attributes of myself over time, there are some things I cannot change. Painstakingly obvious: I cannot bring Benat back, and I cannot change the fate of the Izars who will fall victim to the Games. I cannot change the harsh reality that the world is cruel, and that our name is a death sentence we will all come to suffer. None of that will ever change. The best I can do is to teach them these things, in a way which does not scare them nor rob them of anymore of their childhood. Although I do not know much about the world around me, what I do know is that amongst all the sadness in the world, at least two people in it deserve to be happy.
Date; 4th March Age; 14, soon to be 15
My birthday is coming up soon, but I don’t feel very excited. The other girls in my class will dress up as beautifully as they possibly can when they turn 15, but I doubt I’ll even get a cake. I shouldn’t complain. I just thought this year might have been different. But I guess this is just my normal.
I’ve never written to you before – my letters were never addressed to anyone at all, just for myself. But now that you’re gone, something has snapped and it makes me feel so vulnerable. I need a friend.
I wonder what you are thinking, wherever you are. Can you still think? Can you still smell? Can you remember simpler times, when we were younger, before everything became so cruel and complicated? Or is it simply too hard for you to think of memories of a past life? Because it’s okay, if that’s true. I find it hard too sometimes.
I can’t bore you for too long today. You’ve already endured enough. I’m sorry.
I just wish you would come back.
I thought you might want to know how your brothers are doing? Some days I feel that they are growing to like me a little more, but other days I feel like I’ve made no progress at all.
Sampson is a difficult child to decipher. He is younger, of course, which makes it challenging at times for him to understand things clearly. But he is smart, and I think he knows much more than he lets on.
And Deval, he admires you so much. In his eyes, you are wonderful. I think he is calmer than his brother, but there’s something within him that he keeps hidden. They both do, and I’m not surprised. Everyone has hidden secrets.
Even though they miss you so much, they forget about how much I miss you as well. Will I ever be comforted by our loss?
Please, come back.
Nothing is better and everything is worse. I don’t know what to do, but I’m trying so hard. I thought maybe it would get easier, with time. I’m not so sure anymore.
The days have become even harder lately, for no particular reason at all. Each day is another day that you won’t be coming home to your family. Sampson hates my eyes – he doesn’t have them, but I do. He doesn’t think it’s fair. Perhaps it isn’t.
I constantly remind myself of why I’m here, and how all of this came to be. Why did I listen to you in the first place? Along with these thoughts comes many questions that circle my head and pester me until I provide them with a rational answer. But I can’t. Love is never a rational answer.
Please, please, please, come back.
They pile up around me, pieces of paper that contradict the very notion that I refuse to let take over the boys’ lives.