jesse hargrove / district 10

You're no stranger to gossip.

The Hargrove name has been synonymous with thief, liar, and scoundrel for as long as you can remember. All of it thanks to you. There wasn't an expensive watch you didn't steal or a rich woman's purse you didn't slip your fingers into. You took what you wanted and you claimed it was all in the name of survival. You just needed the cash and they all had so damn much of it. Who cared if you took a little bit of their fortune to put a roof over your head for another month? And who would know if that gold bracelet you pawned turned to food for you and your brother Jameson for another week? The ends justified the means, they always did. But they often came with consequences. 

You spend most of your youth in and out of lockup, doing time for petty theft and breaking & entering more times than you can count; leaving Jameson behind more times than you care to admit. But the prying eyes of the small town you two call home tell no lies and the loose lips of the witnesses you sloppily leave behind sink ships.

It all comes crashing down around you when you go for a score you thought could set you up for life. You'd gotten wind of a few shady Keepers looking to sell one of their rovers, completely off the books. And the best part was they were willing to go for a 50/50 split with the ones who could nick the jeep from the impound lot and bring it to the agreed upon meet up spot. A garage on the edge of town. They'd strip the car there, move the parts to where they needed to go or use them for themselves. But they'd pay cash, up front. Enough to get you and Jameson out of this back woods, trailer trash town. Enough to settle down somewhere safe. Enough to never have to steal a thing ever again. A foolproof plan. A way toward a better life. Who could resist?

But things are never that simple, nor that easy.

◆◇◆

You're caught red handed before you can even get more than 20 yards away from the lot. Handcuffed as soon as you step out of the driver's seat, you're immediately taken in and put into a very familiar cell. One you've spent many a night inside. But this time is different. It wasn't just some rich lady's necklace or some old man's sliver plated cane you were found with. It was Keeper property, and the moment you spit out the names of the two soldiers who put you up to it—who promised you half the profits if you made the delivery—it's their word against yours. Two respectable Keepers versus a repeat offender from the slums of town. There was absolutely no way in hell they were going to believe you.

They offer two choices: spend the rest of your life in a detention center or avoid imprisonment and offer up your services to the Keepers. You choose the later and sign away any sort of income and have it sent to Jameson so at least he'll be taken care of while you're gone. And within a week,  you're shipped off to Two and immediately begin training. In the blink of an eye, the life you knew was gone. And a part of you is grateful. You have your own bed for the first time in your life. You have clothes on your back and food in your belly, neither of which you had to swindle or steal.

The rules are hard at first. Being told when to sleep and when to rise, when to shit and when to eat; it's different than anything you've had to deal with before. You had no mother to show you right from wrong, and no father to teach you discipline. From such a young age, it was you and your brother. You were older and therefore the authority. But make no mistake, it was like being in the wild, and the only rule was to survive. So that's exactly what you did: whatever it took to live to see another day. But here, beside other boys your age you're meant to call your brothers, within the halls of a faction to whom your destiny is now so tightly linked, it was hard to adjust. And once rumors of why you were there started to spread, it was even harder to fit in. 

They'd all volunteered while you were sent here as punishment. You'd never be seen as one of them. Not really. No matter how hard you tried,  you were always painted as the enemy.

A thief.
A liar.
A scoundrel.

You finish your training after a long, grueling year of childish hazing by day and vicious beatings after lights out, and put in a request for a post as far away from here as possible. 

Request granted.

"Welcome to District Two, Keeper Hargrove."

◆◇◆

You don't relish leaving Jameson behind, for real this time. But you know he's safe and cared for each time you sign away your stipend and sign another letter to him with a love you little man, your brother, Jesse. You also know if you had stayed, it would have only been a matter of time before you wound up dead at the hands of your fellow Keepers. Declared an accident or some other ridiculous sort of cover up. This was for the best. This would keep you alive. This will guarantee you could return home one day.

So you carve a new life made out of sand. You wake up to the smell of fresh fish and the spray of the ocean. You spend your days patrolling the coastal towns and your nights counting down the minutes, hours, days until you can find your way back home. But it isn't a bad one, this new life. You fall in love once or twice, forgetting about everything you left behind when you came here for a few brief moments.

You pass the time quicker when you find camaraderie in your fellow soldiers, getting to know them better and letting them actually know you. Even all the gritty and grimy parts you aren't proud of. But you're older now, and so are the men in your regiment. You learned when you were young that boys are cruel, but there are some men worth the title of friendship, and you find them in Two.  

It takes more than a decade, but you find a sort of peace by the sea. You find purpose in the work you do with the troublesome youth of the district, seeking out kids that remind you of yourself and hope to see them find a better path than the one you've walked. But you're grateful to have arrived here, to be in the position to finally do more good than bad.

It takes fifteen years, but you happily retire. 

You finally go home.