Jairus Whittemore // D2 // [FIN]

Jairus Whittemore // D2 // [FIN] Feb 5, 2014 0:19:57 GMT -5

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Post by arx!! on Feb 5, 2014 0:19:57 GMT -5

JAIRUS WHITTEMORE

district 2 - seventeen - the nemesis

I should have strove,
I should have fought,
I should have shown a little love.
A little love.

"He's nothing but a bad attitude with big muscles and no brain."

"You forgot smoking hot in that sentence."

"Can you repeat that? His pea brain couldn't even comprehend the compliment."

"If he heard you he would snap your neck before you even had the chance to insult him."

"Nah. He's nothing but a big-headed jerk. I could take him."

"No, I'm thinking he would take you to the cemetery and bury you himself."

"Right next to his parents."

"Well aren't you classy. Asshole."

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

"You're just jealous because you aren't hot enough or cool enough to be him."

"Excuse me? I am way cooler than him."

"Yeah, your pimpled face and skimpy arms and lack of a girlfriend say it all."

"Still an airhead."

"An airhead that could kill you with just his gaze. Besides, his girlfriend could outsmart you for him."

"Could not!"

"He may not be very smart, and he may be arrogant, and he may be an asshole, but one thing is certain - he killed chivalry, because guess who every girl still wants to sleep with?"

My fist collides with his face and a thunderous crack! echoes through the crowd, bouncing off of every wall and resounding in every spectator's ears. The sound of shock and awe from the crowd mixed with the hoots of encouragement from my trainer bring a grin to my face. My opponent - whose name I do not recall and frankly, do not care about - falls to the floor, a limp heap of bloody flesh and broken bones. I on the other hand, am completely unscathed. I even managed to keep his blood off of me. I'd say that's a new record of sorts. Or at least it deserves some sort of reward - a hot shower? a medal? a plaque? a free massage? Whatever. I'll just tell my parents I deserve a new diamond studded watch or something and stick with that.

"That's how it's done, Whittemore! Beautiful!" I crack my knuckles and look down at the kid still lying on the ground. No one is even bothering to pull him to the side or fan him or splash cold water in his face. Apparently my victory needs to be rightfully displayed to the audience, and my place at the top of the foodchain solidified. I smile and chuckle, stepping over the kid and jumping from the ring with my head held high and my better side turned to any cameras that happened to be following me. The golden boy, the star, and rightful heir to the biggest prize. The Victor's crown. I have been training my entire life and their is no one that could ossibly get in my way. Not even McCall. Especially not McCall.

That little shit was never better than me until the day Hale began teaching him. The kid had never beat me before - never even been real competition! - and then all of a sudden he was the new little star. His moves were better than mine, his ability to swing a sword, aim an arrow - everything - was increased. Everyone was so impressed. So surprised really. Everyone patted him on the back and asked where all this pent up talent had been hiding, but I knew. Apparently I was the only one wiith any brains because, sure enough, I found out his little secret soon enough. And, just as I had suspected, it was why he had managed to capture the attention of that girl ... Alita? Anyway, she is just way too good-looking; no way in hell McCall could really be that impressive in her eyes unless of course he was getting help from someone in the neighborhood.

Sure enough I found that there was an entire little pack of followers. The damn super power of the century had chosen a bunch of wimps to train. A BUNCH OF PANSY ASS LOSERS?! AND NO INVITE EXTENDED TO ME?! ... Yeah, they were all idiots. But there is no doubt that I make them better. And now that I have started this exclusive training along side the petty, overrated shit that my parents are paying for, I get to kick McCall's ass, laugh at Stilinski, flirt with Alita (oh and it sure bothers the heck out of McCall), work with live dumbies that have names that I can't remember at the moment, and of course, show Liela just what a perfect man she gets to call hers. It's all so perfect and right again - with me at the top of the social food chain. Exactly where I have always belonged.

His eyes were filled with tears, the green electrified by the pain, sparkling like the emeralds his mother occasionally jaded herself with. Though he now knew that she wasn't his mother - not really. They were nothing more than fakes. Worse than fakes, they were liars. Even at such a young age he should've known. Sure they gave him everything he needed and more, but the affection? There was none. Not like he saw with the other kids at school. No, he had always been one thing to them. They had always had just one goal. He was meant to be a career. A victor. His real parents were ghosts, dead and gone when he was just a child in some sort of accident - murdered he often heard mumbled in the halls later in his life - and now, as he looked in the mirror, freckled cheeks flushed and soft blonde hair dangling in his eyes, he wasn't even sure who he was anymore.

He struck out at the mirror and even at the age of 9, it shattered from the force. His fingers shook as blood dripped all the way to the floor, pooling there, and when he looked up again, he saw only pieces of him - a sort of monster - his body and soul cut apart into sharp pieces. He could hear the liars banging on the door, could hear them hissing like the snakes they were, but he only cried harder and slammed his fists against the door with all his might, trying to escape from the horror story that his life had become. Or rather, had always been.

But something else sparked within him. A piece of his heart fell away and despite all of his attempts, it would never be filled. It couldn't be filled. No matter the success, no matter the girl, no matter what, he would never be able to fix that hole that opened in his heart that day. It was a void only a mother and father's love could fill. And they were dead. Soon enough he will discover that now matter how hard he tries, that hole will never be filled, his heart will always ache, and despite all his efforts, he will die failing to impress a pair of headstones.