Savannah Carey, District Eight (CBD #3)

Eighteen

Female

District Eight

Some people refuse to look past the bruises that bloom on my skin. Why do those always have to be the first thing they notice? Why can't it be my dark brown hair, or my bright blue eyes? Why is it always the bruises? They just scream abused child, which I am, but that doesn't mean I'm like some kicked puppy. Just because my father hits me doesn't mean I'm too afraid to try and hit back. Before Ma left us he was a good enough father, I suppose, but after she turned her back on the family he got a little too friendly with the bottle, often taking out his anger on me and my six other siblings. People seem to think that means I'm some poor, helpless little girl, but let me make one thing very clear - I'm not. I'm proud and I'm strong and I scream and yell when I'm angry and I go out and party when I feel especially rebellious. I'm not this pathetic little kid - I've grown past that. I'm a big girl now, loudmouthed with a vicious temper. The bruises I have are the ones I take for my sisters, not ones I receive while cowering in a corner. But that's not to say I'm some kind of hero - I'm a little thief, in reality, going and stealing from the older weavers who are too blind to notice me, selling them in order to make up for the money Da spends on drinks. I know it's a twisted life, but it's my life, and I've learned to deal with it.

Concise Bio Day, 2013 (270 words)
odair