pillar fray, district one | finished

A little girl with the brightest of blue eyes sits in a wooden chair, which is white in color and smells of dried paint. An older woman runs a silver comb through the child's strands of blonde hair and fusses over her composure.

"You are a Fray, didn't you know?" hisses the woman. "A Fray woman sits with poise, and she most certainly does not slouch."

The little girl, allowing a wince to spread across her face, wriggles in her sleep clothes and attempts to sit with dignity, but this is only rewarded with a sharp tug against her scalp. A cry of faint pain escapes the girl's lips.

"Furthermore," continues the elder of the two, "a woman of elegance moves with grace. She doesn't move like some sort of slimy worm breaking free of a cocoon."

The child sighs, whilst closing her eyes and attempting to make the woman, her very own mother, go away. She just wants to go to sleep; she just wants her mother to stop preparing her for rest and to allow her to drift off quickly into the dreams that are more comforting than reality. Instead, her mother grabs her by the shoulder and shakes her.

"Are you listening, girl? I hope you realize that I expect you to listen to me when I speak. Especially when I am giving advice that you so desperately need," she snarls.

The little girl squares her jaw and turns around in her chair; she doesn't like being shaken. With furrowed eyebrows and a puffed out chest, she speaks."But, Mom, I really don't need your advice. I doubt that anyone cares whether or not I slouch or move like a caterpillar. I-," before she can finish, however, her mother whacks her on the head with the silver comb.

"Child, don't you dare be so foolish. This world is cruel and selfish, and every little person you meet is going to judge you. You wish to act like a reckless mess of a girl who has no manners? Well, by all means, go right on and do it. But, mark my words, don't you dare expect me to pity you at the end of the day."

The girl's cheeks are red at this point, and her small lips begin to tremble. The top of her head radiates with a buzzing pain from the impact of the hard comb, and her mother's harsh words have left a dent in  her delicate shell. The mother, in contrast, lets a sigh fall from her mouth as she allows her stern and rigid features to soften by a slight degree. 

"You are Pillar Capella Fray, my child," starts the woman as she continues to comb the little girl's soft hair. "You are a young woman of One, and you could be something great if only you chose to be. But, most importantly of all -- and regardless of what you choose to do with your life -- you can never let anyone see you as anything less than perfect. Trust in that."

---

My name is Pillar Capella Fray, and I am a young woman of One. People seem to enjoy telling me that I'm something special;a girl with potential --  but in all reality, I am anything but.

Long and thin strands of blonde hair fall down my frail shoulders, and my cloudy eyes blink sheepishly at the reflection in front of me.  Long eyelashes caress the tops of my round cheeks when I blink and smile, which causes a giggle to dance from my lips. I quickly purse them, however, and tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. A faint bruise stands out against the ivory shade of my cheek. I sigh and move the strand back in front of my face, allowing it to act as a curtain that conceals my past.

My long and slender fingers tap against my wooden desk as I glance around my room, and I can feel the obedient side of me screaming as my eyes glance at the black and silver clock hanging on my wall. I need to get ready for training; I need to get ready before father comes in and drags me to the center by my ear. I yawn with a slight crinkle of my eyes as I arise on my long and narrow legs. My thin and lanky arms reach towards the ceiling, before drooping at my side when I finally finish my sleepy stretch. 

I walk over to my white dresser, which is crafted with golden and ornate carvings, on small and petite feet. Pulling out one of the drawers, I plunge my skinny hands inside and prowl around for an outfit. I manage to find a pair of form-fitting shorts and an athletically-designed shirt. Grabbing the necessary undergarments, a pair of socks, and my training sneakers, I then head off to my restroom to get ready for the day of training ahead.

And though I may view myself with low standards, that doesn't mean that you can.

---

Two young girls sit on a bench as one fiddles with her dress and the other slowly and intently flips through the pages of a book. The girl who fiddles with her dress begins to slowly tap her feet, before rolling her shoulders and glancing at the other girl, whose locks of pale blonde hair dance in the soft breeze.

"Corran, why do you like to read so much? Don't you ever get bored of it?" she asks, leaning her head back against the wooden bench.

The other girl chuckles faintly, before rotating her body around so that her back is against one of the bench's armchairs and her legs are propped upon the other girl's lap. "It's like living out an adventure, that's why," says the girl, Corran, who looks up for a short second and smiles softly.

The first girl, Pillar, laughs and rolls her eyes. "Why would you ever want to embark on a pretend adventure? That's absolutely no fun at all, Corran," she states, glancing up at the sky as a dreamy smile forms upon her lips. "Sure, it's fun to dream, but even I prefer to be active instead of just sitting down and letting my dreams drown me. One day, no matter what they say, I'll be slaying real dragons and refusing the hand of any knight in shining armor," she says passionately, her dreamy gaze still holding strong.

Corran only continues to chuckle, however. "Isn't your family practically a pack of dragons?" she states in the form of a question, her eyes glued intently on a rather interesting paragraph.

Pillar lets a loud snort escape from her lips, her eyes squeezing together in glee. "Oh, Corran, you always make me realize that my isn't all that bad. Thanks for that."

---

When you live a life like mine, you realize just how stressful it is. Aside from ballet in the mornings, then gymnastics, I have to devote a whole hour and a half to perfecting my technique with throwing knives. Still, though I long for a life where I can be free to laugh and dance as I please, I have to keep a serious approach to training if my plan to prove that I'm not weak is to succeed.

I used to be a gentle little thing. Truthfully, I still am. But, unlike my earlier years, I'm far braver and more determined. Passion and desire burns through my veins, because all I've ever wanted is for my parents to realize that I'm not the weakest link in the family. Hell, I bet even Kellan couldn't beat me in a fight just because of my sheer determination and raging fire.

But he'd never hurt me. He would never.

Sure, I'm a dreamer.

Sure, I've been bruised and beaten.

Sure, I'm not a Fray by blood.

But, in the end, I'm sure as Hell a fighter.

---

"I'm not going to get hurt," hisses a teenage girl as her brother taps his foot. "I'm just going to do a bit of extra training," she insists, hooking the strap of her pack on her shoulder.

The boy, Kellan, rolls his eyes and snorts. "Fine. Just don't go to the District's edge, okay? Sure, it's the quietest place, but there are so many fucking lowlife creeps lurking there," he says with a husky tone.

Pillar, the girl, laughs while gently punching his arm and smiling. "Of course, Kellan. I'll make sure that no monsters come out of the shadows and pummel me to death," she teases, turning on her heels and exiting the house. She raises her hand, waving it side to side to side as if to say "Goodbye!" and walks away from her luxurious home.

For some reason, she has always felt like it was far too fancy of a place for her. But, no matter what her fellow siblings say, she is a Fray.

She is, she is, she is.

Isn't she?

Walking farther and farther away from the upper-section of the district, Pillar hums a tune to herself. Her ballet shoes are tucked safely in her pack, and her mind is tucked even more safely in the clouds. She is going to practice her ballet skills and agility until her father finally claps for her. Sure, she is a fragile little dreamer, but she is persistent.

Soon enough, Pillar finds her way to a desolate and quiet shack near the edge of the district. She doesn't care about ignoring Kellan's warning, to be frank. When he sees how good of a Career she is becoming, he'll understand. She opens her pack and pulls out her shoes, stepping out of her current ones and sliding them on. As she starts tying up the shoes, however, she hears a noise in the distance.

District One is not a very common place for animals. The worst things reported near the district's edge are foxes or the occasional raccoon, and neither ever did much damage. With a shrug of her shoulders, she decides to ignore it. Standing up on narrow legs, she lifts her arms into the air and starts to spin. Her eyes close as various thoughts enter her mind.

I am Pillar Capella Fray.

I am a Career.

I am a dreamer, but I am not weak.

Fray blood does not flow through my veins, but I am as good as all the others.

I'll prove everyone who ever doubted me wrong.

They'll be sor-...

Something's wrong.

Pillar comes to an abrupt stop, glancing around as she hears footsteps in the distance. She crosses her arms, tilting her head and calling out. "Hello? Who's out there? I'm not all that exciting to watch, I hope you know," she shouts with a rather sassy tone, never much of a happy camper when her training is interrupted.

A few figures step out of the darkness, laughing as they come closer. "Actually, you're pretty nice to look at," says one of them. Pillar takes a step back, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Don't be a creep," she spits out, turning her back on them and scooping up her pack and shoes. She'd have to find somewhere else to train, it seems. "Yeah, sorry, but we'll have to do this some other time. I'm going," she says, glancing at them for one fleeting moment before turning her back on them yet again and walking away.

"You're not going anywhere."

There is a sharp tug on her hair. There is a powerful kick against the back of her legs. There is a forceful impact of the ground upon her knees. 

And, at the end of it all, there is the sheer power of a fist against the side of her head that sends her spiraling into a thick darkness.

---

"You're not going anywhere."

That's what Kellan told me when I awoke from my unconscious state and tried to exit my hospital bed. Apparently I had been in the hospital for nearly two days, due to a strong blow to my head that gave me a concussion. I get headaches more often now, but aside from the bruise, I'm still absolutely normal. 

Or am I?

I have always been the weakest link. Being an adopted girl with skinny legs and weak arms pretty much cursed me with that title right from the start. Plus, the fact that I was knocked out with just a single hit doesn't help ease the pressure of that title off of my shoulders.

Still, even though my parents started to lessen my training schedule, deeming me a hopeless failure, I insisted on training even more. It wasn't like I wanted to seek out the boys that attacked me or anything. Kellan and Rian and Labyrinth already dealt with them for me, anyway. But, like always, I still intended on proving that I was strong.

Yes, I can tell you this a million times. And, even after the billionth time, I won't stop.

My name is Pillar Capella Fray;

I am a dreamer.

I may be weak, but you'll eat your words someday.