chapter - [frankel]

Keyser Summit has one weakness.

He cannot stay in the same place for long.

This is why he is currently commuting under the moonlit sky, with one location on his mind. But could he stay there for a long time? Or even long enough? Only time can tell, but they aren’t the questions currently bothering right him now.

Keyser Summit has a son, an actual son. If such news was announced a couple of years earlier, he would have ran far, far away, not towards it like he is now. A heart has decided to reside inside of him, adding slight warmth to the ice cold persona. Back home, the place he swore to never visit again, it is such an out of character move for him. All the wanderers he met in his ten years of seclusion will be in disbelief at the thought. He forever reminded them of his hatred towards his home District, returning back is really defeating the object of his wanderer ways. For one, he could get caught and thrown into the detention centre or even worse, his family could see him.

The Summits, he always goes by Keyser Bane now, totally dropping his surname and sticking with his first two names, for he was the bane of the family, and the family were a bane to his life.

And now he has dropped everything, abandoned a perfect plan to get rich quick and has totally ditched a partner he had grown to know over a short time. Does Keyser care for Cydonia anymore? No. It is hard for him to even care for one person, never mind two. Only one person is in his mind right now, and that is his son, Kael Summit.

A boy he helped bring into the world, yet he never witnessed him relish within it. But Keyser doesn’t punish himself for not being there, he never knew. He doesn’t even punish himself for turning him away back in the career District, he didn’t need the burden of a son, not at that moment. He had hoped to acquire treasures with Cydonia, and maybe no longer have to forage for basic needs of survival, he could have picked any area to live and prosper in. Although here is, nearing to the fence line to the place he nicknames, hell. And that is the only thing that he will punish himself for doing. Throwing away a great opportunity…for a stranger.

But someone pressed the switch, and now his heart is forcing warmth to tackle the dormant and nearly extinct emotions that somehow still reside inside of him. Passion, kindess…love? How could he possibly love a stranger like he is his own son? His conscience is not even awake, for he hasn’t one anyway; something else is forcing him to creep through the hole in the fence of District Seven.

Pressing his boot onto the frozen solid turf, the surface sends a stinging pain straight up his leg, even the earth of District Seven is punishing him for returning. He halts for a few moments, allowing oxygen to fill in his lunges; he hasn’t rested since he decided to return. For days, possibly weeks, he has ventured day and night to get to this location. But what now? He simply cannot walk up to the Summit house and knock on the door; they all presume him to be dead. They will think a ghost has paid them a visit during the night.

He continues walking forwards, the old leaves from autumn succumbing to the untimely doom of being frozen over and breaking into small particles when the sole of his boots force them to the soil. An eerie sensation begins to linger inside of him, he feels as though he is protagonist in a horror tale, being stalked by a killer, the killer in this tale being everything that surround him. What is the matter with you? This isn’t like you.

Keyser Summit has one fear.

And that is his home.

That is why he escaped so many years ago; he became a winner and fought through his nightmare. But here he is, returning a gold medal of victory, swapping his finishing position from winner to loser.

Rustling of leaves begin to submit warnings ahead of him; he isn’t a lone under this star filled sky. The Moon’s light projects the shadow’s figure onto the towering wooden fortresses that surround him. Keyser ventures forwards, wary of the possibility that, the identify of this figure is an enemy (be that a Summit or a peacekeeper).

His eyes adjust to the light, allowing a clear view for a split second. ”Kael?” The names jumps from his lips recklessly, his hiding place quickly tarnished by the rookie mistake.

For ten years he has adapted his skills of blending in and hiding, but here is, surrendering such skill for the hope that this person is his son…

”Keyser Summit is dead.”

That is how I am known to many, lifeless, wasted, rotten and likely forgotten. But unfortunately for them, I am taking in their valuable oxygen, for myself. I aren’t to ever share it, how is that possible? Yet, I have seen so many plea for an ounce of air, their last lifeline but nobody wants to share it, especially me.

”Keyser Summit is dead.”

The words that Kael repeated in the coastal District, the lie the family implemented into his head, unless they truly believe that to be the truth. Such a surprise it would be for them, if I were to ever go knocking at their damned splintered foul door but I’d rather not bless them with the pleasant shock. I’d be forced back into that house, forced to share their poisoned oxygen. I’d have to abandon the perks of wanderer life, fresh clean air. An unsoiled atmosphere it is out in the wilderness, far from the deathly retreat of the Summit household. It is the only reason I have been so committed to this lifestyle, the freedom, no shackles to screw me down to the Earth. Even with the eyes of the Capitol following my every movement, it is just an added ounce of fun; it does get boring being alone…

Alone in the company of Cydonia, such a hypnotic plan she had conjured up, that is why I followed her; that is why I abandoned him. But, like the narrative repetition of my own life, it was hard to stay committed to her presence. My mind did as it always does, implement a new chapter in my life, the one with Cydonia being short-lived. Now I am venturing forth to a reprisal in my own doomed tale.

Keyser Summit has a son.

A man without a heart, a man with very little care for anyone… a father. Another mistake bestowed upon me. But those dormant emotions woke, emotions shackled deep within, somehow erupting and taking on the controls. They forced me to abandon someone, in hope to rescue another. Such a reckless idea. Yet I didn’t stop to think, I carried on pursuing the idea and here I am, back in the place I nicknamed hell. I am really defeating the whole idea of leaving here.

”Portia Adler is dead.”

His blames likely on me, only I know the truth but is he deserving of it? Is the boy who is my supposed son, eligible for my presence? He is your son Keyser. A boy who I have never met in his entire existence, and now I have the burden of being his father.

His name slipped through my lips, my eyes adamant that the identity of the moonlit figure is him. Such a coincidence that he were to be the first person I lay my eyes onto as soon as I stepped into this damned District, was he waiting?

"Bet you weren't expecting to see me again, Keyser." Hate fills the boy’s words; many would say it is understandable, I say he is just ungrateful of my presence. "I don't know why you're here or what you think you're playing at, but I've had enough of looking at your face, even if it is similar to mine!"

Very ungrateful, he isn’t deserving of the truth. Here I am, abandoning my life, for him. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve me.

"Be gone."

As if he pressed a button, I turn around automatically at his command, he doesn’t deserve me. You can’t yield to the little brat like that. Before moving a foot, I swing back round the boy, the fury building up inside of me projected on my face. A glass bottle comes hurtling towards me, scathing my cheek as it travels past, and a fragment of the glass hitches a seat onto my skin. How dare he! I can feel the crimson liquid trickling down my face, a sharp stinging pain coming into effect. How dare he.

A power forces me to march forwards, the fury masking all of the other emotions. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, an act of my brain trying to regain control of my body. As the pain strengthens, my body halts two feet away from Kael, my mouth takes control of the fury; hopefully wise words will fall from it.

”Why do you think I have come back to this hell hole?” My words are ignited with the hatred and rage that fills my inside, each syllable helping the emotions exit from within me. Somehow my raised voice helps calm me, the pain of the wound suddenly being the main force that I can feel. ”I have come back here for you.” That is the only truth he deserves, the fact that I am here must at least be enough.

Something is happening inside of my head, a foreign feeling that I don’t think I have ever experienced. Is this how I fall? Is this how my life collapses? Is the lie becoming the truth?

”Keyser Summit is dead.”

The chains, they are my old enemy, defeated and gone. But now here is the reunion, another battle to win but I don’t have the energy, not now.

A life imagined with freedom. A life imagined without those four ivory walls slowly suffocating me. The imagery turned into reality and for ten years, I relished. Living the dream for ten years, a blessing no man like me would ever be granted. I am special, special enough to fight for my own cause. Even for the little things in life, I retrieved them. Even if I was living life on the edge, to me it is a modest existence. I fought for my food and shelter, I survived.

Great things don’t last. The shackles are returning, the four ivory walls are marching forth. I could surrender, I could fight on but a new burden marches alongside it all. A son. The word replays in my mind so often, Keyser Summit, a father. My conscience cannot believe it but it is there in black and white, it is certainly the truth. He charges forth with his glass bottle, already leaving a mark on my ageing face; the wound a reminder of the new burden.

Before it was my family who held the ropes, my parents and my siblings; secluding me to their family traditions. And here it is again, in a replay of motion, another Summit with the shackles in hand. A Summit sired by me. I shook the name off my own, but it will forever haunt me. It is one piece of string that will forever be hard to cut loose. A larger burden than the son.

I retrace to moments that brought me to that coastal district, if only. If only I didn’t surrender to the desire of greed and follow that woman to that damned place, I would have never known. The boy would have remained fatherless and the burden wouldn’t be tearing me down. I’d be out there, continuing with my modest life, earning my survival without any worries to linger over me. But here I am, forced to return to the place that I fled. My life is a cycle. I left and now I have returned…I can leave again; but what of the boy?

That is not a question I have thought through. I have never had to evaluate such a thing, really, what am I supposed to do?

What does one do with a son?

His anger mirrors my own, I see his fists tightening, likely preparing to attack me again. A normal father would scold his son for such thing, but I can’t really call myself a father, let alone a normal one. "Why would you do that? You seemed so sure of yourself when you left me back in district four after all," I did, I did feel so sure of myself yet something happened that has never happened to me before, I thought again. Again of the life that I likely forced on to the boy and his mother. I actually cared for a moment. "and I bet you were so sure of yourself when you left her sixteen years ago to."

A truth so blind, he doesn’t know a thing. She likely filled him with lies, ruined him. Portia Adler was less of a mother figure than I am a father; she wasn’t fit for such a role. Her disastrous ways were the thing that wooed me and likely killed her off in the end. The boy’s mind is filled with lies, lies that are likely triggering the anger that I see igniting from him under this darkness of the night.

"You hate us, you hate me."

I hate burdens. I hate strangers. I hate Summits. At least that is the truth but something is biting the back of my head. A part of my conscience that has been dormant for so long, a trait that I never knew I ever possessed. Every man is built is built to be a father; ever many is built to rear their own son. But am I like every man?

”You don’t know anything, I can give you the truth in time.”

I may have shared some of it in that coastal District, but they were certainly filtered with lies. Things have changed now. A rope has me in the noose; this burden won’t be easily fought.

”I want to payback the sixteen years that I took from you.”

The pain I felt before charges through the centre of my chest, taking a breath away from me after I speak. Those words that dropped from my lips, they’re riddle with guilt and now another chain has me secured to the ground.

There’s only room for one in this life.

It is every man for themselves , it’s the only way one could survive. Commitment to a person is useless compared to commitment to survival. Protecting someone, will not save me, it didn’t help me become invisible to them men in white armour. Cydonia was leading me into a death trap, even if treasures were at the other end, they would have really come with a price. A price that I am not willing to spend, not now, not ever.

But here I am in hell, paying up the total price to the devil.

Guilt, another chain shackling me down to this place that was once home. Guilt, my true punishment after all these years. The sharp bite of a peacekeeper’s bullet would be less painful than the emotion shutting down (turning on), my heart right now. Compassion, is that even a word to describe me? My mind is telling me, that the trait drove me here. Passion for a stranger, a stranger who shares my blood, a stranger who I supposedly sired. The boy’s presence has switched something on inside of me, something I am growing afraid of as it continues to further infect my heart.

How would it even work?

My brain has been reckless, thoughtless, I have not even figured out how it would even work. How am I meant to become his father who never was? My face is plastered across the network of peacekeepers, and I’d rather not be thrown into the detention centre that is named the Summit house. I think things through, intelligent complex things like this, why not on this occasion?

Guilt has become an infectious disease, a threat to my survival. Along with those shackles, it is tearing down my columns, block by block. It’s not the fall that is going to kill me, it’s the landing.

"Why - why would you do that?"

The boy’s features drop, the threat of him injuring me again seems to have passed. It still stings, the wound on my head. The red mess silently flows down the side of my face, staining my skin as it travels; a simple reminder of the burden that stands before me. A reminder of the moment that I surrendered my survival and payed up the fee; I hope it scars.

Why? How? Questions I should have asked myself before returning here. It’s impossible. I escaped one death trap, just to enter another. There should have been a plan; I should have never let guilt take control.

This is not Keyser Summit.

"You wouldn't be able to go anywhere near a peacekeepers without getting shot," Does the boy actually care, despite everything? "and I- and I don't want to lose you."

There it is again, the foreign bite of an emotion. It pains my chest, triggered by the words that spilled from the boy’s lips. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you. The six words replay over and over again, a broken record projecting them inside of my head. All I can do is remain silent as I cope with these unfamiliar emotions.

"We'll find a way to make it work, we have to."

A twist in the motion, I was ready to turn around and leave, admit my unworthiness for the boy. I thought he didn’t want me. I actually have to pursue this now, but how? And where do I begin…

Tension solidifies my figure as I slowly ease myself towards the boy, certain a glass will not come hurtling towards me again. Hesitation nearly halts my next movement, as the palm of my hands rest on the boy’s shoulders.

This must be the first stage, this is what fathers do.

”I can make it work,” I pause my words as I take in a full view of the boy, my son. I am looking into a mirror but all I see is my younger self. Every feature, every corner, the same; denial cannot save me from this, as the truth stands beneath my hands. ”I’ll make sure of it.”

My hands drop from his shoulders, the pain in my chest strengthening as I they were placed on them. I need to teach myself to get used to that or maybe just end it…

”First things first though, you are never going back to that Summit house.”

He doesn’t need to succumb to that hell hole and neither do I.

A predictable life, a structured life, which is all I wanted to be blessed with. So many want to take the route with short strides and odd turns, ”Life is a surprise worth living.” I do not see the appeal of being shocked by the unknown. Burdens brought down within an instant, not an ideal process that I wish to experience, but it has happened, so many times it has happened and there is simply no way for me to defeat the inevitable. Each one has grown bigger and bigger, my strides in life have grown larger and well, I have certainly been hit with the greatest one.

Ten whole years, freedom granted with a shock, there may have been a few blimps here and there but it has all certainly concluded with a climatic revelation. Portia Adler, another shock to the system that I would have never predicted, our first involvement, a wonderful moment but not an expected one. There are times where I wish I could relive it but alas, ten years of my own freedom meant ten years of the anniversary of her demise. There is no way I can be blamed however, for six years of the boy’s existence I was still in District Seven; she could have easily found me…

For six years I shared the same air as him and she never told me.

Here the boy stands, he still likely blames me but the reckless woman could have easily knocked on my door and informed me of his existence. None of this is my fault, I have truly concluded that now but guilt still swarms me, biting at my neck and forcing my body to stay put in the presence of this boy.

My mind takes control, spilling reckless ideas from my lips, how can I simply accommodate this boy if I am a wanted man? A hidden identity is a possibility; I can blend in with the many shadows that circulate this damned District. Gain a lowly job, with very little contact with likely capturers. Find a roof not too fancy but just enough for us both to shelter from the horrendous climate. An idealistic plan but it will not be easily executed. My appearance has become shagged over the years but the ghastly iconic features still remain, there are so many negatives of sharing a name with a celebrity family of a ligneous District.

"I understand, but how would we live? Where would we live?" His questions have already been answered in my head but what a clever boy. My admiration of him cannot allow the affection that is creeping from within me to be released, an uncharacteristic trait that I cannot hide, it is there and it will so easily spill out an contaminate the persona that I have built up for so long. This boy is destroying me in more ways than one and I don’t know whether to be thankful or not.

"I'm fine with leaving the Summit house, but I could never leave District Seven altogether, I'll do anything but." Out in the wilderness with me as company, danger lurks and could he possibly survive? I cannot trust an inexperienced boy, even if he is my own. Only if the worse comes to happen, I will have to force him out of here… "But we'll make it work, we'll find a way, we- we can make a new life in Seven."

His eyes fixate on my own, there is something inside that I can see, a little boy who just wants his father and that father is me. I know the reasons for the guilt inside, I never loved my father because I knew him, this boy does not know me…but I owe him the pleasure of finding out. He may abandon me when he is granted with all the details or he may well just stay.

”Your mother’s grandfather owned an old house near the woods, he is probably dead now but it is hopefully still there. By right, it is yours now we can see how it looks…” Memories of the days where me and Portia snuck into the old man’s house when he wasn’t there flood my mind but it not those that halt my words, I am shocked by how quick I am running into this, how eager I am to take on this role that has so suddenly fallen onto me. ”We can go look now if you want.”

I can deny everything and run away now but I would rather not face the toxins that guilt is likely to infect me with.