Hunter Green {D4/FIN}

hunter {♔} green

she asked me “son when I grow old,
will you buy me a house of gold?
and when your father turns to stone,
will you take care of me?”

Tired, green eyes are met by the dim light of an old, dilapidated home, his six foot one frame leaving only a half a foot to spare as he makes his way through the cracked doorframe, not bothering to lock it as the door slams shut behind him. Crumpled bills and loose coins find themselves wearily thrown upon the table by shaking hands, left deserted to rot as he mulls over the little amount that he’s managed to bring in. It’ll last us a day, maybe two. So he paces back and forth across the small room, concentration seeming to dig him further and further into the ground with every stumbling step he takes. Frustration sets deep within his bloodshot eyes, and the resounding words of other's echoes reverberate against every wall of his mind, no matter how desperately he shuts them out. Why would they call me lucky, when I’m anything but?

For if there’s one thing Hunter Dryden Green is not, it’s lucky, regardless of the shallow words that seem to so apparently surround him. At only sixteen years of age the weight of the world has fallen heavily upon his shoulders, and his protruding ribs and grumbling stomach are not suitable for holding it up. The lack of decent nutrition in the household has taken a toll on the three that currently live within it, but the majority of any edible items are given to his sister and ever-constantly weakening mother in hopes of furthering their own health, even if it means the cost of his own.

Dark brown, disheveled hair peaks quietly around the corner to a room even more dimly lit than the rest of the household, and his jaw sets tight as he’s met by the coughs of his mother, which sound deeper and more strained than they did when he just left the house only hours ago. His sister, little twelve year Laurel, sits by their mother’s bedside, but she flies up to embrace Hunter as he steps into full view. The two siblings stopped crying a long time ago, but the silent tears are shed as he sends his sister off to bed, relieving her of the duties that they both so desperately dread.

His left hand comes to rest on his mother’s pale forehead, and the burning sensation it abruptly brings to the touch causes a shaky breath to be released, and he moves his hand to rest on top of hers. Unlike her forehead, it’s almost ice cold, all color slowly draining as bits of life fall from her fingertips and crumble at the ground beneath their feet. The only positive thing about the situation was that for once she was able to find sleep, for she spent nights upon nights breathing uncomfortably in the humid, salty air, and nothing the two children did could alleviate her discomfort. But now, the shallow rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin sheets brings about an unequaled sense of placidness, and he rises from kneeling alongside her bed to check upon Laurel.

The floor creaks beneath his feet, the old age of the house becoming more evident each day by the constantly appearing cracks and crevices, each holding a memory of their own within. The short, silent walk to his sister’s room brings about the thought of simpler days, when both of his parents roamed the halls with light spirits and happy hearts. Whistles could be heard from his father, followed by a rumbling laugh as he scooped Hunter into his arms after returning from a long day on the docks. The smell of the ocean clung to his clothing, and Hunter begged time and time again for his father to let him tag along one day so that his constant, vivid imaginations of the sandy shore and rolling tides would become more of a reality rather than a fantasy.

As he tugged on his father’s jacket in a helpless attempt to get passage to the adventure he always wanted, his father knelt down to meet his eyes and promised him that tomorrow, he would take him to the shores as the sun rose, and it would be worth every second he had waited thus far. So Hunter paced at the door and scampered around the house, energy and excitement building like a fire inside of him, each passing minute adding kindle to the fire. But second upon minute upon hour passed and the front door didn’t swing open, the smell of the ocean didn’t sleep under the frame and flood the house with the calm of low tide. Instead, a single knock sounded upon they heavy door, and the children were ushered to their rooms, their mother ignoring their pleas and questions as to the situation at hand.

Laurel was young at the time, only six or so, but Hunter, at the wise, old age of ten knew something was awry. He peered under the door and cracked the door, but the faint sobs past the door quickly caused him to pull it shut, and amid Laure’s questions he calmed her with reassurance that there was absolutely nothing wrong, that dad would be home soon, that he was only working late. And there was some part inside of him that wanted to believe the lies he spoke, but no amount of persuasion could sink the feeling that he wasn’t going to see the ocean tomorrow morning.

His mother pulled him out into the hall moments later, and the underlying tone of despair in her voice became evident as a short lecture on the nature of the situation left his mother sobbing and Hunter’s eyes brimming with tears he refused to spill, for the job of carrying the family now fell to his shoulders, no matter his lack of time to prepare for such a task. And for a few months, he managed the brutality well, holding his sister as she cried or taking over the remaining household chores when his mother’s mental strength ran dry. For a while, he managed.

But as months of loss wore down the house, from its walls to its inhabitants, and his mother fell into a constant state of high fevers and chills, and there seemed to be nothing to do in terms of fixing the situation. For a while she gave them instructions on ways to alleviate her pain, but this was a time when the pantry remained stocked and money still sat in the jar behind her bed. Slowly, he would dig his hand into it only to be met with cool glass, and he would go on a frantic search around the house for loose change and missing bills, but he was hardly met with anything more than a dollar or so, three to five if he was lucky.

Wise instruction from his mother and constant food began to cease all together, and every day became a desperate scramble to find enough to find anything that might nourish both his sister and mother. The day would begin before the sun rose, and tattered clothes would do little to hide his exposed skin from the chills that racked his body as he ventured out to find odds and ends in exchange for anything that might help the status of his quickly failing family. But even simple jobs wouldn’t quite bring home what he needed, and honest jobs turned into volatile lies and scams, and pangs of dishonesty soon faded into dull stabs at a tough outer layer that developed at the sense of pushing all limits of morality away. So even through lies that fell out through a tight smile and promises that were made with fingers crossed behind his back, he turned to desperation as the only means of saving the flicker of hope that remained to light the old house. And flicker it did, for skipped meals at the cost of his sister and mother’s health left a feeling of heroism sitting in the pit of his stomach, even if the means by which it came about contradicted every morale his father had set within him.

If there is one thing Hunter Green is not, it’s lucky, and he came to know this for himself standing upon the sandy shores that his father once walked, watching the sun rise over the waves and realizing that it could have been much prettier if he was not standing there alone.

and since we know that dreams are dead
and life turns plans upon their head
I will plan to be a bum
So I just might become someone.

{o t h e r}

Hunter Green

Age: 16

District 4

Gender: Male

Face Claim: Arthur Gosse

Codeword: oDair

Clue Plot

House of Gold-- Twenty One Pilots