Finley Combes | District Nine | FIN

”I’ll call you Flint; your mother never gave consent about your name.”

An identity built up over so many years, just to be stolen by a man I must call father. Now I am forced to follow his hand reared animal, as if I am like every other sheep out in the small menagerie.

”You should aspire to be like Tommy, he’ll easily carry life on his soldiers.”

I am reminded so often that I am no girls man of their dreams. I am already stuck evaluating my own dismal fantasies, I would rather not ruin another’s with my presence.

”You should just stand up to him, don’t let him dictate you like this.”

My younger sister, a girl with fire in her heart, if only I was brave enough to take on her strength but I would rather not witness the power that my father would smite onto me if I were to ever revolt.

”You should come play dolls with me, Finley.”

If only I was able to accept my youngest sister's request, if only Tommy didn’t have a prying eye, I could easily interact with my sister without his wrath erupting and destroying the moment.

I have so many people in my life telling me what to do, but there is always an excuse or a limit that halts things ever happening. So many barricades and restrictions, my life just revolves around a rule book. Just a single one broken and it will all collapse around me. Everything was stable once, I was Finley, I played with my little sisters and helped my mother with selling flowers at the market. Now I barely talk to my sisters and now help my father with selling scrap metal at the market. If only my mother didn’t succumb to her illness, if only I wasn’t forced to live with a man I can barely call my father.

If only.

I don’t even look like him, and supposedly he is my biological parent. My brown eyes reflect my mother’s, not the lifeless pale green of my father’s. I once had brown locks that fell past my shoulders but of course, that had to be removed as soon as I was put into the possession of my father. Moulding my personality is not his only conquest in life, but even altering my appearance to match his brute other son seems to be it too.

Tommy towers me by at least half a foot and I must be five foot eleven, the boy is a monster, not one that I am willing to disturb. He is always tormenting me about the various marks on my skin and of course, I just allow it. But on one occasion, I fled when he tried to play dot to dot on an acne outbreak that lasted a month on my face, I am grateful that he doesn’t know about the hidden birthmark on my groin.

A younger sister with more balls than me, it is not a surprising concept, definitely is to my father though. She never wanted to assist me and mother with the flower selling, always preferred to play in the dirt but obviously I was opposite to that. I don’t think there was ever a time where I returned home with scuffed knees and a scratched face; I really don’t understand how she injures herself so much. My cleanliness really got to my father, my daily baths and face washing; one day he decided to hide the bath. A metal tub that moved from room to room suddenly vanished from the house. Only when everyone began to smell, did he bother re-introduce it back into the house.

Despite swapping the trade of flower to scrap metal, I still possess a hidden interest in flora, behind Tommy’s and my father’s back of course. There are various petals and scrubs squished between the pages of the books in my room, it is surprisingly hard to smuggle flowers into the house, unless I say they are for my youngest sister. My father really does have rules set on what we can do in terms of gender roles, my younger sister is no longer allowed to play in the dirt and is forced to wear a dress, my youngest sister isn’t effected by such rules as she prefers dresses over trousers any day but he has really imprisoned my younger sister the most. He may have implemented such rules on me but I can see that she is slowly collapsing and I know a day will likely come when she boils over. A part of me wants it to come soon but another part knows of the consequences that are likely to follow.

There are times where I am actually allowed to break free, father favours that we have a sociable life and oddly he likes to have a few hours spent alone in the house with us all gone. I leave the girls to do as they wish and try my best to avoid Tommy. I spend most of my time admiring the market, conversing with sweet boys of my own age. I am grateful my father is unable to explore my mind, for if he knew my sexuality, I am sure it would be game over.

There were never such harsh rules with mother, back when I was fifteen, I could explore the world with no restrictions and barricades. Everyone was free, there were some limits of course but they were in our best interest not my father’s fantasies like they are now. Just the smite of illness took it all away and now here I am spending my life with a man that I only ever met twice when I was young.

It was me, my two sisters and mother, such an ideal family unit and now, I don’t think we are even a real family anymore. My younger sister is so distant and my youngest loves father, she is just young and doesn’t see the truth. Everything is referred to was now, all in the past. I can only look back at memories and imagine them as the present, imagine life if virus hadn’t conquered all.

I can either take on my younger sister’s advice or hide my true self in the shadows, in hope that the right person will come and rescue me from it.