Hawthorne Willows ~ District 7

This is a tribute by Sambaroses, please don't use him without prior permission! :3

He is Sambaroses's 5th District 7 Male, the brother of Clara Willows (Made by Summer bee 13), and the boyfriend (It's complicated) of Bryony Mapleblossom.

Hawthorne's Basics
Name: Hawthorne Willows

Age: 16

Gender: Male

District: 7

Weapons: Axes, Throwing Knives.

Height: 5'9

Appearence
Tall in stature and on the slimmer yet toned side, Hawthorne has messy black hair and bright, forest green eyes, quite like the colour of the trees in District 7 really.

Personality
Kind and humorous, Hawthorne is somewhat of a quieter type, not really that shy, just quiet. Due to his home life he's learnt that if you keep your mouth shut people have less to use against you. Despite his home life on the outside he acts relatively carefree and happy, always willing to joke around. Though he is more the gentlemanly type, he's also quite reckless and doesn't always think everything through, often disregarding the consequinces of his actions. Sweet and somewhat closed off, it takes quite a lot to break through the walls he's built around himself, and he is also pretty low on the self confidence side.

Backstory
~ Warning: There are some scenes of abuse & attempted suicide in this ~

Born and raised in District 7, the only child of a Papermaker and a Load Puller, Hawthorne had always had an unhappy childhood from day 1. Why, I hear you ask? Well unfortunately Hawthornes mother, Maple, a beautiful woman with long silky black hair and bright green eyes, had complications while giving birth to him, which lead to her untimely death. His father, understandably heartbroken became somewhat of a quiet recluse.

First off almost a year later, he adopted a little girl who looked strikingly similar to Hawthorne, who was called Clara. As Hawthorne got older he never did really understand why he'd done that, though one of the many women in his fathers life had tried to explain it to him once when he was around 8 or 9. They'd told him that Clara didn't remind him of his dead wife quite so much as Hawthorne did, which just proved to make him feel even more worthless. Speaking of the women, his father would often flit between women, often quite a bit younger than him, and it was honestly a miracle that Hawthorne survived through his infant years as he was pretty much ignored by his father all together. The women would often try to help him as he grew up, which is probably how he made it so far, but his father would always tell them to just leave Hawthorne alone, as he was worthless and useless anyway. Hawthorne didn't believe he was worthless at first, he studied hard in school, he kept his head down, and yet whatever he did it it never seemed to please his father, until eventually he started to believe it himself.

Unfortunately for poor Hawthorne, when he was 12, his father discovered the joys of smuggled alchohol. He'd often sneak out down to the districts black market which was in an old abandoned warehouse, and when he returned he'd often be laiden with bottles, reeking of booze. Hawthorne understood it was just a way of him coping, so he held his tongue.

That was until one day when he was almost 13, he returned home from school late to discover his younger sister lying on the floor in the kitchen, with blood running down her face from a huge gash across her forehead, tears in her eyes, and his father standing over her, broken bottle in hand. He tried to get between them, protect her, but he was flung to the side by his fathers fist and bottle, crashing into the wall at a frankly frightening speed.

From that day forwards he and his sister were often abused by his father, so much so that they'd both been to the district hospital more times than they could count. However, Hawthorne soon realised that if he didn't want to risk getting beaten up even worse than before they'd both have to stop going as often to stop people becoming anymore suspicious than they already were. The people of the district generally kept their buisness to themselves you see, however he knew what could happen if even one person started wondering, spreading gossip and rumours that would eventually lead back to his father.

The lack of a hospital meant Hawthorne quickly became good at healing, though it didn't stop his father from inflicting ever more wounds on him and his sister. He himself had many scars across his back and chest from this, which he knew would never quite fade, an everlasting reminder of the torment he was put through. He wasn't so sure about his sister, though he did remember a particularly nasty incident which involved his sister openly admitting to his father that the only reason she hadn't run away or killed herself yet was because of Hawthorne. They'd made a vow that day, to never leave each other again. Little did he know, keeping that vow would be harder than he thought...

When he was 15, both Hawthorne and Clara finally managed to get a jobs as Lumberjacks, dropping out of school as the family was suffering, since his father hadn't worked a day since Hawthorne was born, instead preferring to sponge money off the various women in his life.

On his very first day of the job (quite literally), a rainy, horrible day in general, he was waiting for the lead climber to check out the tree before he and the other lumberjacks could cut it down. The climber was a very pretty girl, he had to admit that, petite, with long dirty blonde hair and deep brown eyes to match. Just as he was thinking this he watched as the girls foot slipped on the branch she was standing on, and she flailed her arms around in a vain attempt to keep her balance, before she came tumbling out of the exceedingly tall tree she was almost at the top of.

He knew that if she hit the ground at that speed, and from that kind of height she'd break a lot of bones, so in a completely spur of the moment decision he ran to catch her, the force of her body colliding with his sending them both tumbling across the sodden grass, her small frame entangled in his arms. They eventually rolled to a halt, the girl lying flat out beside him as he lay there winded, every single muscle in his body protesting from the sudden impact. Moaning in pain he managed to tilt his head slightly to the left so he could get a proper look at the girl, his eyes widening in surprise as he found himself practically nose to nose with her, her own eyes big and concerned as she observed him. At this he smiled weakly at her - though it may have come out as more of a grimace considering the very action of moving even a single muscle was excrutiating - asking if she was okay.

'I should be asking you the same question.' She'd muttered as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, looking down at him with suddenly narrow, perplexed eyes.

First day on the job. He offered up as a reply to that look, assuming she was trying to work out who he was. To accompany this statement he'd tried to chuckle under his breath, but he soon realised this was a mistake as he yelped in pain, wheezing heavily.

By now a number of other lumberjacks and loadpullers had rushed to their sides, trying to find out whether they needed medical help. She seemed to have come out of it relatively unscathed, however they all quickly came to the conclusion that he needed to visit the hospital, which filled him with a deep, twisting sense of dread. If he was late home from work god knows what his father would do to him...or Clara even.

The girl he'd just saved was tasked with helping him to the hospital, and he didn't have to be a genius to work out that she wasn't at all happy with this arrangement. By the looks of it she was annoyed at the fact that an adult couldn't escort them, since no one was willing to risk their job. You see, all the adults jobs were at risk if they left the peacekeeper observed site, even just to help him to hospital, which was normally pretty busy considering the districts trade and the pitfalls that came with it.

After she'd seemingly got over her annoyance she turned to him with a sympathetic look in her eyes, helping him to his feet. He discovered he could just about walk, but it caused him searing agony if he did, making him wince and bite his lip to stop himself crying out with every step. She offered to try and support him, and even with her petite frame, it did alleviate the pain a little if he leaned on her. She was stronger than she looked actually, and with his arm around her shoulders she managed to hold him up enough so that they could make it to the hospital, talking and finding things out about each other as they went.

Her name was Bryony Mapleblossom, and she was a little younger than him, being 14. She lived with her parents though it was rare for them to be home, as they worked ridiculously long hours. She'd also never had a best friend since she was more of a loner type, and was quite frankly - in her own words - 'a little bit bored by life in general'. She was more of a freespirit, and the routine she currently lived by wasn't doing much for her in the way of fun apprently. By the time he'd discover this they'd already made it to the hospital, which meant he could finally take the pressure off poor Bryony's shoulders, something she was obviously greatful for.

She insisted on staying there with him until he got his diagnosis, and soon enough a doctor informed them that he'd broken two of his ribs and his left arm, so he wouldn't be able to go back to work for a while until they both healed. He was scared at this prospect, he wouldn't be able to even try and protect his sister against their father, and he wouldn't be able to defend himself at all. However infront of Bryony he played it off with a smile, as she'd managed to escape with just some nasty black and purple bruises that stood out against her pale skin. She unfortunately had to return to work as soon as possible, but just before they parted ways they promised to meet up again soon as they'd hit it off quite well. Actually, almost too well for her safety, probably.

After he had returned home with the help of some crutches Hawthorne had suffered quite the beating from his father, as he wouldn't even be able to earn any money until his bones healed.

A few days later, Bryony and Hawthorne met up again, at a little spot on the outskirts of the forest, except this time she'd come bearing gifts. She'd decided to give him her weeks wages, as it was her fault he'd broken his ribs and arm in the first place. He'd tried to decline this kind offer, but she'd practically thrust it into his hands, demanding he take it. He eventually gave in, and this routine continued for a couple of months, him objecting everytime, her practically throwing the wage packet at him in frustration. Little did Bryony know that he knew her 15th birthday was coming up, and he decided to give her a gift for it.

He'd been sitting in his room, savouring the time before his father in his drunken state realised he was there and decided to ' Make him pay ' for what he'd done to his wife, Hawthornes mother. He was desperately trying to think of a present he could give her, as he knew that his father would never let him spend any of the money she'd given him anyway. That's when he'd seen it, peeking out from under his chest of drawers. His mothers necklace. It was a beautiful thing, with a silver chain and a pendant hanging from it, a leaf carved out of maple wood. The clasp at the back was even made to look like two interlinking leaves when worn, and right then he knew it was perfect. It had never meant anything to Clara as she'd never even known his mother, and his mother had meant a lot to him. Infact, Bryony meant a hell of a lot to him too. And that's when he'd realised. He liked Bryony. Like really liked Bryony. At this point his mind was made up, he was going to give it to her, and it was especially fitting as her last name was Mapleblossom, and the necklace was made out of maple wood.

So when her 15th birthday rolled around, he'd presented it to her. She'd asked her where he'd got it, and at this point he panicked. What was he meant to say? In his panic he settled on that he'd bought it at the district market. She seemed to believe this, and he'd brushed the hair away from the back of her neck, fastening the necklace on.

One day some time later he'd discovered he'd been cleared to go back to work, which meant he could finally get away from his father without appearing suspicious. His 16th birthday was coming up, and he obviously didn't expect anything from his father, however he was pretty sure Clara had bought him something, though she was very guarded about it.

The day of his birthday arrived, and it was one of his few days off, the days he dreaded most. Clara had bought him some carpentry tools, as he liked to dabble with carpentry in his practically non-existent spare time that he wasn't being thrown about and beaten by his dad, with Bryony, or at work. He had a feeling Clara felt sidelined after how much time he was spending with Bryony, but she was so addictive, as soon as she left his company he wanted to see her again. He'd fallen for her hard, and it didn't look like this crush, or maybe even love was going to release him anytime soon. Around 5pm, a knock came on the door, and he had a sneaking suspicion who it would be. She couldn't be here! Lord help her if she was wearing his mothers necklace... this wasn't meant to happen!

He'd tried to run for the door but his father threw him back, going to open the door himself.

'What is it girl? What do you want?!'

He heard his father bark at her, and he hoped beyond hope she'd say she was one of Claras friends, if his father even had an inkling of the feelings he had for her, it wouldn't end well.

'I've come to see Hawtho- '

He heard her announce in her best 'I'm strong, i'm dealing with this' voice, but she was cut off as his father lunged forwards, doing what, he couldn't see.

'What are you doing with that?! Where did you find that? You theiving lowlife!'

He heard him shout in her face, and he knew he'd heard enough. Barging past his father he manged to push his way between them, shouting for them to stop. Bryony looking fearful and shocked, his father looking so, so angry, the angriest he'd ever seen him since that time when he was 12.

'Well, I should've known it would be down to you! Get out and stay out, you're no son of mine! '

His father hollered in his face, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and literally lifting his feet off the ground. Then he slapped him agonizingly hard across the face, before throwing him like a ragdoll to the dusty, hard ground.

'And as for you young lady, you're giving that back right now!'

He heard his dad scream at Bryony as he scrambled to his feet, and he saw the warning lights flashing in her eyes as she turned on her heel and started to run, faster than he'd ever seen anyone run before. He raced after her, aware that they were out there in plain sight. He could hear the people whispering as they shot by them, which was a bad sign. A very bad sign. Something happens when everybody finds out he thought to himself ''see the vultures circling dark clouds... ''

Eventually after what seemed like years of running but was probably only a few minutes they both came to a halt, his breathing heavy as he skidded to stop next to her. She sat down silently on the grassy verge they'd arrived at, and as he turned to look at her, he knew he'd have to tell her the truth.

'What the hell was all that about?' She'd stated, tilting her head to the side in confusion more than anything, and he could see the tears pooling in her eyes, though she was blinking them away hurriedly.

'That was my dad... he's always blamed me for my Mothers death, and since he discovered the powers of alchohol a couple of years ago he's been practically drowning himself in it ever since. That necklace I gave you? It was my mothers. I wanted you to have it because she meant a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me, and I really like you Bryony an- ' He'd started, though to his complete surprise, he got cut off. Not from his father finding them, or anything else like that. From her lips on his. To say he was shocked was a huge understatement, though that was the only word he could really think of to describe it. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her back, and he realised this wasn't any old crush. This was love. True, pure love that made his head throb and his heart pound everytime she was around.

Unfortunately for them, it was at this time that the workers would head home, and their kiss was cut short by  none other than Bryonys parents appearing, demanding her to come home with them right then and there. He saw the hesitation in her eyes as she pulled away, before she sighed lightly and bid him goodbye, returning home with her parents. He dearly hoped he hadn't got her into trouble as he stood up, deciding he couldn't face the wrath of his father and going home yet.

He walked around the district aimlessly for hours as the sky darkened, before deciding to go to the spot where she'd given him her wages for the first time, all those months ago. He decided right then that they could escape, escape the district, escape his father, escape her parents, escape everyone. Love was precious, and if he had a chance with it, then he was going to take it while he could. Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out, he thought. I'm not going to let that happen. Speed walking to the spot as night fell, he was pretty surprised to see Bryony all ready there, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the stars.

'Bryony, I have a plan.'

He said, sitting down next to her, which prompted her to look at him. Catching her gaze for just a moment he looked away, deciding on staring at the stars, just like she had been.

'You do?'

She questioned some moments later.

'We could go, leave the district, leave all our problems behind... I've always been curious about what's past the fence y'know.'

He'd replied, nervous for her reply.

'Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?'

She'd shot straight back at him, and after a moment he grinned at her, trying to convince her.

'Come on.'

He'd said, reaching for her hand as he stood up. Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it, he pleaded in his mind. Please.

After a long moments hesitation she took it, her eyes glimmering. They decided to run for the fence, intending to climb up a well situated tree and jump off it over the electric fence. So they put their plan into action, Hawthorne going first, and Bryony leaping into his arms off the tree as she went over the fence. Then they went on their way, too in love to think straight, heading into the dense forest that surrounded the district.

'What will people say?'

Bryony questioned after some hours of silence, where they'd just been running hand in hand, away from the district, away from their problems.

'Let them say what they want, we won't hear it.'

He replied simply, smiling down at her as she laughed.

'I guess that's true.'

She replied, grinning up at him.

Many a week passed as they trekked across the rough terrain, having the time of their lives. Everything was so new and exciting, the new places, the new feelings, just everything about it. Their relationship was going relatively smoothly, and they were just generally enjoying being rebellious, being out of peacekeeper hold and running free. So far they'd had no problems, as the peacekeepers chased their tails trying to track them down, that he was sure of.

The weeks rolled into months, and one night he was sitting in a clearing beside her, her head resting on his shoulder. It was beautiful here, he admitted that, the trees surrounding them, the moonlight glinting off the dew dampened flower petals, the soft grass underneath their bare feet...

Soon enough Hawthorne looked down to discover that Bryony had fallen asleep against his shoulder, her hair framing her face. Very gently he lay her head down on the grass, managing not to wake her up, deciding he would go on a hunt for food while he had some spare time. Arming himself with the lone knife they'd brought with them, he went on a search, making sure not to stray too far from where Bryony was still sound asleep. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of movement, and whipping round he threw his knife straight at it, knowing that he'd hit it. Unfortunately for him, he had hit it, but what he hadn't realised what 'it' was. A Peacekeeper.

He heard a grunt of pain and then footsteps were pounding all around him. He tried to run, away from where Bryony was, away from them, trying to lead them away from her. Unfotunately he didn't get very far before he felt hands on his arms and he was yanked backwards, kicking and screaming. One of them slapped him across the face, yelling at him to shut up. They had him, but at least they didn't have Bryony. But oh, how wrong could he be?

'Boss, we've got another one!'

A voice shouted, and he started to struggle, desperate to get free. They couldn't get her, he wouldn't allow it. None of this was her fault anyway, it was his plan in the first place! The peacekeepers dragged him forwards, towards where she was. As they broke through the trees he saw her pale, frightened face as her eyes settled on him.

'B-Bryony, go! '

He managed to choke out, before being hit across the face again, blood pouring from his nose. She hesitated for a moment and then she was off, peacekeepers chasing her as she fled.

'You'll pay for that, boy.'

The peacekeeper muttered in his ear, and he realised that through his life he's 'paid' for a lot of things. His mothers death, being born, and now this. Suddenly, a blunt object hit the back of his head and he blacked out.

When he awoke again, he found that he couldn't really move and his arms ached, as his wrists were shackled quite high above him. He realised he was in some sort of holding cell, the pristine, clinical white walls surrounding him and the white floor beneath him making his eyes hurt as the light reflected off them both. The place was surprisingly under-guarded, a lone peacekeeper occasionally patrolling the cells, though he appeared to be more interested in playing solitare than actually doing any work.

Hawthorne stayed there for what could have been days, but was quite possibly weeks, months even, he wasn't sure as every second dragged past slower than the next. He'd tried asking what they intended to do with him whenever they brought him food, but the peacekeeper always just chuckled, shaking his head before walking out.

Eventually one day an offical looking man appeared at his cell, his attire implying he was pretty important in this district, which he'd gathered was district 1 from the number on the peacekeepers uniform, but then again that could have just been what rank he was or something, it was hard to tell. Hawthorne was informed he was to be excecuted that afternoon, an example to all the citizens of 1 of what became of escapees, not that Hawthorne thought they really needed the reminder, as he knew 1 to be rather a bloodthirsty lot as it was. He'd laughed at the prospect of his imminent excecution, actually properly laughed, earning him a split lip, hours after hours of staring at nothing but a plain white wall having driven him temporarily slightly crazy. Escapee? An escapee was someone who hadn't got caught in his mind, like Bryony, hopefully. The memory of her was the only thing really keeping him sane at this point, otherwise it was more than likely he'd have been driven over the edge of sanity and into madness.

So some hours later he was finally unshackled for the first time, his wrists red and rubbed raw as they dragged him out of the cell and into the rest of the building for the first time. He was soon to discover this was the justice building, a grand yet exceedingly clinical looking place that was likely to be one of the last things he'd ever see. He was informed on the way that this was going to be filmed and played to the other districts too, which just made him laugh, though internally this time. He was going to be made an example of, a gory, horrifying example he was sure.

As they arrived at the square, what must have been at least half the citizens of 1 were crowded around the outskirts, staring at him like he was the most entertaining thing they'd ever seen, kind of like the way a child looks at a new toy. Either way, they seemed almost more than happy to see a young teenager sentanced to death right before their eyes. I mean, that's just not normal, trust him to end up dying in one of all places.

He was dragged to a stake in the center, and at this point he wasn't sure if they were going to shoot him or something else completely. However at that point, he saw his chance. Just as he was shoved forwards towards the pole he whipped round and kneed the peacekeeper directly infront of him in his *cough* privates *cough*, ducking as a bullet whizzed straight past his ear. Suddenly the place had decended into pandemonium as he ran as fast as he could away, people trying to grab him and giving chase, gunshots booming around him, lights flashing behind him. He was just about to think about how amazing it was that he hadn't got shot yet, just as a bullet tore right into his right shoulder. To be honest he was lucky to be even alive right now, so he was just thankful of that.

He ran for the fences, he could see them in the distance now as it had been some minutes, he just needed to reach it. He ran flat out for the last minute or so, his breathing heavy as he stumbled onwards, blood soaking his once white shirt as he spotted his chance. District 1 was a practically completely unguarded district as they never actually expected anyone to want to leave, so their fence was flimsy at best, and almost certainly not electric.

He managed to get right up to it, crouching behind an unfortunately unclimbable tree, grabbing at the fence with his left hand as he searched for a hand hold, or something. Anything. And that's when he saw it. A hole. It was directly under part of the fence to his right, looking like it was probably created by a fox or something similar. He scrabbled at it with his fingernails, desperately trying to make it bigger. He could hear the gunshots in the distance, getting louder by the second. They'd catch up to him soon, and they'd find him, the tree doing very little in the way of cover from anywhere other than behind him, and his injured shoulder hindering him.

He managed to make it big enough to squeeze through, so he did, screaming out in pain as the scars on his back re-opened, the sharp metal dragged against his skin, leaving long, bloody tears in his shirt, which was now becoming little more than a grey and red rag.

Then he ran, just like the fox who made that hole probably did. He ran away from them, feeling like the fox itself, the peacekeepers the hunters, yelling and firing behind him as he ran across the mostly open terrain, trying to keep to the cover as best he could.

After many, many hours of running he'd left them long behind as he stopped to treat his wounds, tearing up his shirt and using it as a make-shift bandage for his shoulder.

Eventually after what must have been weeks, months, years - he honestly hadn't a clue - of stumbling directionlessly through the undergrowth, he came across something. The fence. The fence he'd jumped over with Bryony, the same tree standing tall just like when he'd left it. He'd never even noticed the now overwhelmingly familiar terrain around him until now, everything having previously blurred into one as he carried on in a somewhat glazed over state, not really living, just... functioning. Yes, that's how he'd put it, and barely functioning at that. Painstakingly slowly he managed to clamber up a tree close by with his good arm, hurling himself at the fence with all the strength he had left. He just managed to get over it, rolling on impact, screeching in pain as his bad shoulder hit the ground. It had never healed properly as he could never get the bullet out despite his healing skills, as trying to pull a deeply embedded bullet out of a wound you can barely see is beyond difficult.

He knew he had to get to the hospital but he was reduced to crawling now, dragging himself along pitifully slowly with his good arm, managing to make it almost to the main part of the district before everything went hazy and he slipped out of conciousness.

When he awoke again he panicked, hearing voices and talking, before being greeted with white walls as he opened his eyes. Had it all been just a dream? Was he really still going to die? He didn't want to die, he didn't-

'Hello?'

His thoughts were interrupted as a hand waved infront of his face, a mans voice pulling him back to the here and now as he struggled to calm himself, his breathing fast. Pulling himself up to a sitting position he looked around, recognizing where he was immediately. The hospital. The district hospital. He'd actually made it!

A man was standing infront of the bed he was lying on, telling him about how he'd been in a medically induced coma for a few days as they tried to treat his wounds the best they could. He was also told a lumberjack had brought him in as he was heading home from work, finding him passed out near the edge of the trees. Finally, he was also informed that he was free to leave, however they hadn't been able to fully repair his damaged shoulder, so it would still probably cause him some problems if he used it too much for a long period.

So less than an hour later he'd stumbled out of that hospital, the familiarity of everything overwhelming him. He'd actually done it, he'd made it back. But what about Bryony? Had she ever made it back? And wait.. what about Clara? A pang of guilt hit him as he realised that through everything he'd been so worried about Bryony, he'd actually forgotten his own sister. How long had it been? He'd lost track of time long ago, every day rolling into the next.

Walking towards his house he tentatively pushed the door open, his eyes flitting back and forth as he double checked his father wasn't home as he stepped inside.

' C-Clara? Are you upstairs? '

He called out, his voice hoarse and harsh sounding as he hadn't used it for a very, very long time. He was surprised he still had a voice actually, come to think of it.

' Maybe. It's none of your business, since the wish of being forever alone with your adult friend is about to be granted.'

Came the rather angry reply, and he cocked his head to the side in confusion. Adult friend? What was she on about? She'd always been a little depressed, but was she- wait, his wish was about to be granted?

Running up the stairs as fast as he could he burst through her door, as he realised what he feared was just about to happen. Clara had a gun in her hand, aimed directly at her head. He grabbed her, pulling her into a tight embrace before she could, though he was shocked when she pulled away and smacked him painfully hard across the face. "Clara?" He started, "Are you picking up on father's ways?" Maybe she'd become like him too. Maybe-

"Hawthorne!" Clara replied sharply, "Where the hell have you been all this time? I've had to live with father under his constant abuse, thinking day after day you would never come back. Thirteen times I tried to kill myself! Thirteen times! All becuase you left me for some forest chick who's in love with you! I should have just shot myself instead of being a sissy."

That hurt him more than he could even describe. She'd tried that many times? He'd honestly never even thought that she'd react that badly, he thought she'd jsut escape too, take his lead. Except she obviously hadn't... wait, forest chick?

'Oh God Clara, I didn't know that...' He stated, letting her obvious dislike of Bryony slide for now.

But, she wasn't done just yet. '

I wrote you a letter every day. Every dam day that you were gone for those horrendous months. And yet, I never got a reply. But, answer this for me: Why do you love your girlfriend more than me?'

At this he furrowed his brow, confused. Of course he still loved her, but he loved Bryony too... why did he always have to choose?

'But Clara, I still love you.'

He replied hesitantly, not willing to get another slap, as he was fully aware the first one would have left a large red mark that was difficult to cover up.

With a  sigh, Clara replied, 'But not as much as you're girlfriend that you ran away with. Had you loved me, you maybe would have at least taken me along with you.'

She then dropped on the floor and cried as he hugged her, for what must have been hours.

Due to Clara's depressed mood, the relationship between her and Hawthorne never was as strong as it was back when the two of them were children. He hadn't heard from Bryony either, though he did now know that she was alive at least. She never appeared at work though, or at school. In fact if he didn't know better he'd of thought she just dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. Time and time again he walked up to her door, but time and time again he turned away again, knowing that she probably wouldn't even want to see him anyway. After all, it had been all his fault that she'd been shot at and scared, it was all his fault...

His father had given him the worst beating he'd ever recieved when he realised he'd come back home, but where else could he honestly go? He couldn't go to Bryony, he'd troubled her enough, and though it hurt him, he promised to stay away from her. He was just trouble, he didn't need to drag her into it again. So eventually he settled back into his old lifestyle, got his old job back, even got used to the abuse again.

(If entered into a games on his own read below)
And just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse, that very year he was reaped. He wasn't sure if it was rigged or something, but he knew that it certainly wasn't coincidence. Every day he'd expected a peacekeeper to come knocking at his door brandishing the film, but every day he'd been spared, though he wondered why. He guessed it would reflect rather badly on them if it came out that a 16 year old had managed to escape peacekeepers twice.

After the reapings came the time when friends and family could come say their goodbyes. First came Clara, then a few distant friends, and then to his surprise, Bryony.

' I-I thought you were dead...? '

She mumoured quietly, avoiding his eyes.

' What? '

He'd replied, thouroughly confused.

' Y-you never came back for me Hawthorne! I-If you've been here all this time, why didn't you come see me?! '

She shouted at him, tears spilling down the sides of her pale face as she glared at him angrily.

' Huh? I thought you never wanted to see me again! '

He fired back. That's what he'd been told by her father, that she didn't wish to see him.

'I thought you'd died in that forest! '

At this point she buried her face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, running his hands through her hair as he tried to calm her.

' S-so did you forget about me? Have you got another girlfriend now? '

She pulled back slightly, looking at him quizically.

' You know for me, it's always you. '

He replied, just before they shared one last kiss.

(If entered into a games with Bryony read below)
And just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse, that year at the reapings, Bryony was picked. He saw he make her way to the stage, looking over the sea of people with unseeing, dull eyes, not like how she used to look. This was the first time he'd actually seen her since that night in the woods, and she looked... duller, lifeless even. And then the male name was being read out and before he knew it the words ' I volunteer! ' had left his mouth as he made his way up to the stage, Bryony looking like she'd seen a ghost or something. He'd let her down in the woods, but he wasn't going to do that again. He'd protect her with his life if needed, but he was never going to let her down again.

After the reapings came the train ride, where Bryony finally said something to him.

' I-I thought you were dead...? '

She mumoured quietly, avoiding his eyes.

' What? '

He'd replied, thouroughly confused.

' Y-you never came back for me Hawthorne! I-If you've been here all this time, why didn't you come see me?! '

She shouted at him, tears spilling down the sides of her pale face as she glared at him angrily.

' Huh? I thought you never wanted to see me again! '

He fired back. That's what he'd been told by her father, that she didn't wish to see him.

'I thought you'd died in that forest! '

At this point she buried her face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, running his hands through her hair as he tried to calm her.

' I'll never let you down again, I promise. '

He murmoured in her ear. And that was a promise he intended to keep.

Strengths
Due to the amount of times he's been beaten up Hawthorne is quite resilient and a strong hand to hand combat fighter, and he's also a great healer, being able to utilize any number of plants to help heal wounds. Because of growing up in 7 he's very proficient with axes, and knives since he's been using them from an early age. Due to his quiet nature he normally gets on okay with most people, and he's quite tough mentally in some respects.

Weaknesses
Due to what happened with Bryony and Clara he's kinda damaged, and if reminded of what happened to them he will retreat into his shell, becoming even quieter than normal. Finally, he is also afraid of figures of authority and most adults after what happened during his life. His right shoulder sometimes plays up too, he is left handed but it still causes him great pain if he puts strain on it for a prolonged period of time.

Token
A brooch that belonged to his mother, with ornate silver and gold leaves intertwined on it.

Song He Was Based Off
Hawthorne was not originally based off any song, surprisingly. Parts of his backstory are the same as his girlfriend Bryony Mapleblossom, who I created first, and she is based off Wonderland by Taylor Swift. However as I was listening to '1989', the album Wonderland is from, I noticed he matched pretty perfectly to the song I Know Places, so I decided to base him off that as well. :3

It's a great song and well worth a listen if you have a moment! :D