Almost Loved

I hate it. I hate it all. I hate every morning that I get up. I hate everyday that I walk the earth. I hate every night when I shut my eyes so that unconsciousness may take me. I hate my past. I hate my future.

I walk towards a stream, the early morning sun just beginning to heat the earth, and I kneel before the water. I always wake with the sun. It is my nature. It is who I am. I do what I must. I do what needs to be done, no matter how futile the cause. That is why I am here. To retrieve water for myself and my uncle. As unpleasant as it is, we—souls of fire—also need water to live. It is only out of necessity that I do this. It is simply what needs to be done.

Dipping the water skin into the cool stream my eye happens to catch sight of a reflection. It is a hideous image that greets me, one that would make any man, woman, or child shrink away in disgust. It is not just disgusting, it is shameful, horrid. It is the scar on my face…

"Your father raised a coward!"

There are nights that I still lay awake pondering over that insult. It was said out of spite, I know this, and yet I can never get it out of my head. Was I truly a coward? I look into the water and I scowl. I see the mark of a coward.

"She was born lucky, you were lucky to be born."

Luck? No, there is no such thing as "luck". My misfortunes stem from my own weakness; my faults. The spirits seem to have deemed me unfit and are now reaping havoc in my life as punishment. The ugly, rough skin around my left eye tells me that luck was never on my side to begin with. I was not lucky to be born, I was destined for a life of failure.

"Father thinks you're a miserable failure!"

Yes. I believe that. It is the first true thing my sister's ever told me. I know my father is disappointed in me, that he believes I'm weak. That is simple fact. The scar on my face is a reminder of this fact. I earned this mark by my refusal to fight my father, as I cowardly knelt before him and begged for mercy. My impudence had been rebuked, and suffering was my teacher.

And I did suffer then, when I received this dreadful affliction. I remember the pain as acutely as I feel my shame. I remember the searing burning that assaulted my face, the heated, sticky blood that poured from my countenance. I can still hear my screams of agony ringing off the walls; hear the fire as it rushes towards me…

I shudder and look away, closing my eyes against the painful memories. What use was dwelling in the past, anyway? It accomplishes nothing. Wishing history would change itself did not make it so. The fact is that I am scarred, forced to live out the rest of my life running from my country and hiding amongst my enemies.

Is this really what I have become? A once proud Prince of the Fire Nation running from his own people? Forced to live like Earth Kingdom filth? I should be at home now, by my father's side, commanding servants, attending war meetings, helping my country win this war!...But I am not, and I can never do it. This scar…this mocking disfigurement makes it so! I will never be able to return home.

I do not want to dwell on these thoughts anymore. I dip my water skin into the chilly stream and fill it. Uncle will be expecting me back soon. I do not want to explain why I did not return in a timely fashion. Thinking of the past will not help me. Looking forward is all I can do. I must struggle and fight. It's who I am. It's what allowed me to survive this long.

With my task accomplished, I stand, intent on making my way back to camp, but I pause. I peer down at my reflection once more. Ugly, red skin greets my ready vision, reminding me that the past three years were not some horrid dream but actuality. I am sickened by it just as much as I am now defined by it.

"Never forget who you are…"

Tears suddenly spring into my eyes, obscuring the view of myself. My heart aches. I remember when those words were spoken to me, and I hold them close to my heart, just as I do the one that spoke them. I know what I am thanks to the reminder on my face, but I also know who I am. I've been struggling with this question for a very long time, and I know the answer at last, here now that I am at my lowest.

I am he that is loyal to those who despise me. I am the one who craves compassion, but hardened by hatred. I am a traveler that knows my destination but hesitates along the path. I am he who was almost loved.

Author's Note: I was on an Avatar kick again this week, I suppose...

Thanks to DA4TheFunOfIt for being my emotional support this week! :P