letters from zedelghem (pt. 2) // Mercury's letters

Dear Seladore,



I can't really say anything besides the fact that I'm surprised. I didn't think anyone knew, actually no, I know that people know but I didn't think anyone cared that I'm still alive. After all, I am still just another typical boy from District Ten, coma or no coma.

I spent ages agonising over whether or not I should write back (after all, this is risky) and it would have been easier to just pretend I didn't get any letter but I just couldn't. Perhaps it was the idea of not being alone, of someone who actually understands what it's like. I'm so used to being alone, I don't think I know anything else. Or maybe I did but I just can't remember anything else. You see, I can't remember anything. I can't remember anything from before the accident: people, friends, family, absolutely nothing. I tried keeping a diary and logging everything that happens but that's not even working. I'm slowly coming to accept that my past is dead, and by the looks of it so is my future.

You asked about the life I live now so I suppose I'll just tell you; after all, honesty is the best policy. In truth, I'm unemployed, failing school and useless. I used to have a job with cattle and horses but my mother would never let me go anywhere near them after what happened.

Surely you must recognise my last name and realise who I am related to. Two past tributes who I was apparently close to but I now I can't even remember what their faces looked like, isn't that sad? The 65th Games and the 69th Games, the District Ten males are my cousins and I can't remember a single thing about them. I don't even have the courage to watch the games recaps when they're shown; I'm scared to look at their faces. Still, I visit their graves as often as I can now, just to see if I can somehow jog my memory but so far there has been nothing.

They haunt me, the two dead boys, they haunt me. Follow me like a dark cloud and cling to my skin like wounds. I can't even remember their faces but they still linger in the air around me everywhere I go. They won't stop and I think it's driving me just a little bit insane. Two boys who I don't have a slither of a memory of but I can't seem to shake their looming presence.

It doesn't just affect me, it affect my family to. When I woke up, I had bruises across my body; I realised (the hard way) they were bruises from my father. One mention of my cousins or my uncle and he starts trembling, then he starts drinking, then the violence starts. It's not just reserved for me either, my older brother and my mother get it as well (although my mother has much more courage than I'll ever have, she doesn't take his punches laying down) but the next day he's sorry and takes us out. I should've learned not to dance on that thin line.

I said honesty was the best policy and I mean it. To be honest, I'm not much better than him myself. Sometimes we drink together, straight from the bottle and we finish the whole thing and it's onto the next one. It's simply how I escape reality now, maybe I'm hoping that I'll fall back into a coma where it's better, simpler and there's no two dead boys following me, I really don't know any more. Mother says I'm killing myself but Father doesn't really care - I just need the escape. Surely you understand the need to be away from reality, you are surrounded by blue after all. That's your escape and this is mine.

That's most of the details of my life I care to share. I understand if you decide you would rather talk to someone more put together than me, I would rather be anyone else but me to be honest. It's your choice whether or not you want to write back or not. Either way, it was nice receiving this letter from someone who understands, to know that I'm not complete alone, to know that there's someone who cares. I think I needed it. I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours truly.

(table by onyx)