Newt Krearns [D4] ~ FIN

{It's impossible to see
All the things we used to be
And it's impossible to say
Why I always feel this way}

Ever feel like we're just eternally drowning?

Everyday, I feel like that every day because that's just what life is; it's one long scenario of drowning. Every time you feel like you're gonna swim back up to the surface and find some kind of reprisal you're just dragged right back under - it never stops, it never ends. It just keeps happening, and happening and happening until one day you decide to give up and let yourself sink to the bottom and let the water take you. I haven't given up, yet, I'm far from given up, I keep kicking and splashing; endlessly flailing in the water for reprisal for some kind of break.

"But you have it all Newt!"

That's what they'd say, that's what it looks like on the outside; I look like I have it all. The clothes that decorate my body are immediately evidenced that I have it. I'm able to afford a new pair every month and they're always fresh and look the best that District four at least have to offer. I don't show off, I'm not some slut whore who likes to show off their body like some people in the family (immediately looking at you Nevah) they're modest in terms of what they show. Shirts are always buttoned up to my throat, more often than not a jacket is draped over my shoulders. Unless it's super hot, rarely do I wear shorts; I don't want people to see me.

I'm a built like a career but not the hunky flashy ones seen in the games. Nothing like the likes of Reyes Moreno, or the hulking Hammerfells or the rugged scariness of Jay Krearns. I'm modest, not built to handle huge axes that can strike someone's head off with a single heavy stroke. I'm slim and lithe, definitely quick as well. I've always favoured the lighter weapons: swords, knives, a harpoon is what I train with nine times out of ten. I'm five foot eight inches tall (an inch or so taller than my sister which I'm actually pretty proud of, not that it matters much) and I'm slender. I don't look like a career. I guess the best evidence would be the multitude of training scars from when my sister and other, better careers beat me down.

Typical Krearns reveal themselves in me and my twin sister. Coal black hair that's short and swept to the side is the hair I have. It's not exactly greasy but it's unkempt, I don't care all that much for it if I'm completely honest. If I get it done it gets messed up in training, if I do it again then it gets poisoned by the salt of the sea when I go swimming, if I do it again then it gets thrown out of shape when I go fishing in the family boat. You just can't win with hair (but then again, since when could I win with anything?) so I kind of just gave up.

Deep brown eyes rest in my sockets, mirroring the hairs on my head and every single other Krearns out there. Too many of us with such similar features. I'm not unique in any way, that would make me special and Nevah and Dad make sure I know everyday that I'm not special.

"But Newt, you've got it all." They say to me. Well fuck 'em. They only see me for what's on the outside.

I'm withdrawn and tortured by my selfish secrets it's not physical, it's an internal torture. It's not seen on the outside. You see if Mum of Dad found out they're kill me; actually Dad would, Mum I'm not so sure. Dad makes sure we eat, sleep and live for training, he makes sure we're ready to go in the games. But I don't care about that, doesn't he get it. Alcohol, cigarettes and late nights flood my weekends. I'm not addicted to it -ripred no- it's just a way of coping, it's my own silent way of challenging his system.

I sometimes get my own little pocket money and blow it on backstreet card games, cigarettes and booze every Saturday at these little places I know. I tell everyone that I'm going out to hang with friends (hah, friends, hahahahahaha!) and they just let me go. Dad doesn't even question why I'm home late any more so that's a huge plus.

But then one day I got caught.

One day my younger twin, Nevah - I don't know how, found out. She found out everything, the alcohol that's slowly killing my liver and brain cells, the occasional drugs that are slowly destroying, the cigarettes that are slowly killing my lungs and stamina, she found out that I was willingly stopping myself from reaching my physical peak. But she didn't rat me out. I thought she would and that would be it, I'd get a beating, or even worse thrown out, and that would be the end of Newt Krearns.

But through some kind of weird, unknown mercy she didn't and I was so relieved until I found out that it wasn't mercy at all. Every time I refuse to do something she can just utter "I guess I'll just tell Dad," and that's it - I'm done. I'm wrapped around her little finger, locked in a cage of force submissiveness.

I can't lay a finger on her.

I should love her, she's my sister and we shared a womb, a family and a name. Besides, that's what people say. "You have it all Newt, a loving family-" so can I really hate her. I don't think she even loves me back though. I don't know any more. For now I tolerate her.

I'm always thinking but I never come to an answer. I'm always analysing, my eyes always scanning and analytical of something - anything. That's not only my style when I'm training (gotta be able to watch for weaknesses in your enemy, anything in the environment would work to your advantage) but my style to everything really. Always watching for something, anything - it's developed into all out paranoia. Never know what's coming, for all I know Nevah could be selling me out right now for a new pair of shoes or something.

At least then I won't have to do her chores for any more.

I'm so withdrawn, so lonely (but I think I like it better that way, I think I work better when I'm alone) and there's just no reprisal. I'm shy and introverted. I don't like being in big groups (unless it's gambling with the regulars backstreet, they're like second family even though I don't know half of them) and I just work better alone. Fishing, fighting, playing, you name it and I can do it better. Other people just get in the way; but according to them I'm the one getting in the way, I'm the useless twin.

I hate it but I'm used to it; an inescapable reality that I'm forever the useless twin. Second best, I can always see it. Nevah is dad's favourite and I think he prefers the younger eleven year old over me. Just like everything else I've given up, I've given up trying to get his approval but I still crave it, I want him to say 'good job son' just once. I don't know if he'll ever say it, even if I volunteered and actually won the games I don't think he'd say good job son.

Hell, he prefers my dead cousins over me.

I remember it clear as day, the day Someith volunteered and we went home I remember what he said. "Ain't even a career and still got the balls to volunteer, maybe that'll be you someday son," I don't remember what I said but he chuckled and slapped me on the back with his meaty hand.

The day Someith put his pole hammer through his sleeping ally's eye I was watching it with dad after having just come back from training. "Fucking hell, that's what a true Krearns acts like, too bad he isn't my son." I simply chuckled weakly at his statement despite the fact my heart was slowly disintegrating. However, I would't have it and I dried to come back rather feebily. "He's a cripple with one hand, I don't think he'll win, he has a disadvantage; it's pretty unlikely." I tried to say, sounding as analytical as possible but of course my dad wouldn't listen to my opinion. "Less hands but twice as skill as you'll ever have."

The next day Someith plunged a dagger in that career from Two's heart and my dad called me to the television. "Take notes, he hits more targets than you and he doesn't even train." He said and I obediently took a pen and paper and wrote notes while holding back tears.

The day after Someith sent Beretta falling off her high horse and into an early grave and secured his place in the finale. "He's actually doing something for the name Krearns, his parents must be so proud, Newt could never pull that off even if he was against twenty three pissy kids, maybe Nevah." He said with laughter as he sad on the couch with my mum. He didn't know I'd come home. My mum gasped and told him not to say such things but he simply brushed her off and proceeded to stick his tongue down her throat.

The day Someith died I was so happy. "Looks like your favourite didn't win after all." I told my dad, my voice full of pure snark through a grin over my breakfast. "Better than you'll ever do, you're too much of a pussy to even volunteer!" He barked, his pride permanently wounded. Fucking hell, he had never even spoken to the psycho and he'd become his number one fan over night.

If it wasn't obvious I hate being compared to other people.

"But Newt, you have it all!" Those blind fools say.

It's always been like that, the day I was old enough me and Nevah were old enough we were thrust into the training centre. It wasn't long before my twin marked herself out to be the better one and I began to slowly disappear into obscurity while she skyrocketed. She got the favour and boys and girls alike while I just became 'Nevah's twin.' Anyone that fucked with Nevah ended up regretting it sorely and of course who did they take it out on?

Of course me.

I'm lost in the shadow of the better twin at home and in the outside world and it's always been that way since the day we started training. Hell, somehow (even though we're twins) she's somehow the cuter one and she loved it, even when we were kids still training. She could beat me in everything, she did better than me in school, she worked harder in training. Of course she became the confident one who could get what she wanted while I just became Nevah's twin.

I don't know what drove me to begin drinking and smoking (when I 16 nonetheless), to begin wrecking my body and blowing any money I got on gambling and all that unpleasant stuff. Dad would kill me if he found out. I did it anyway without a single thought or consequence of my actions (totally unlike me) but I felt so at home. Smoking relaxed me, drinking took my mind off the thought of me drowning and the guys at the backstreet gambling made me feel at home. Worth it I think. It was only a matter of time before the person I shared a womb with caught me. Of course she didn't rat me out, instead used it as her own little bargaining chip, a constantly choke hold on me and my actions. Nothing I could do about it. I had to do what she said or else.

Nothing I do is for myself any more.

Now I'm...

I'm just drowning now.