Wyatt O'Connor {D6/FIN}

When I was thirteen, I scratched a mark on the wall using the pocket knife my father had given me for my birthday just days ago. He said that I was growing into the man I was supposed to become, despite the trembling fingers that took it from his calloused hands. He knew as well as I that I was as far away as possible from being grown up, for I still cried at the insults that were tossed around loosely by the others that were around my age, and my father’s attempts at consolation only made the entirety of the situation worse, for he’d place his rough hands on my narrow shoulders and make sure my hazel eyes were staring back into his own before speaking, “Words can never hurt you.”

I’d turn my gaze away immediately after his words had come to a close, waiting to hear his footsteps trail off into the distance as the stupid saying repeated itself over and over again in my mind.

There are a lot of scratches on the wall now. There’s one for every time I’ve heard a derogatory term tossed in my general direction, and somewhere between thirteen and eighteen I lost count, not so much concerned with the multitude with which they existed, but rather the dullness that now accompanied etching another mark onto its surface. It stung the first few times, each motion of my hand causing the insult to bite at my mind, only subsiding once I had pulled away, but now it seemed a daily routine.

My hands still trembled and my five foot nine frame still shook, but another mark crisscrossed an empty space, and then another, and then one last for the word that wasn’t spoken by others, but by myself.

“Stupid.”

“Worthless.”

"Idiot."

{other}

Wyatt O'Connor

Age: 18

District 6

Gender: Male

Face Claim: Michael Clifford

Codeword: oDair