Until then, you had had a pretty normal, happy childhood. You were part of a wealthy family in the wealthiest district. Your father was a successful businessman, your mother was a doting, caring stay-at-home mom. Even though you were an only child, you never felt stifled or lonely. Until the age of eight, it seemed like you had it all.
Then it happened. Your mother's untimely death at the hands of an assassin meant for your father.
After that, everything spiraled downhill.
You and your father never were close to begin with, and the removal of the one major link that held you together only widened that gap. He would ignore you for days, weeks at a time, immersing himself completely in his work. The maid said it was his grief, that he would need time to mourn the death of your mother.
But as the trend continued for one month, six months, one year, two years, you slowly realized that things were not going to change.
By age ten, you perfected the art of masking your emotions. All that anyone would see was the bright, bubbly kid who had gone through so much already, but had emerged a stronger, better person. And the act worked, among friends, teachers, even strangers. They never suspected a thing, and believed the facade of happiness that you so expertly conveyed.
To this day, the mask has worked perfectly against all except the one that mattered the most.
As you grew older, it was ever apparent that even your own body would assist in the dull ache that was constantly present inside your heart. How as you matured from child into young woman, as your facial features developed, that you would end up the splitting image of your father, with the only connection to your mother being your femininity. How you endure barbs and thorns in the form of comments from everyone who comments on your looks. "Wow, you look just like your father." "Even her eyes match his, they're the same shade of brown and everything." "It's almost like she was cloned instead of birthed." "She must be a real daddy's girl. I mean, she looks just like him."
And with every comment, you reinforce the cracks in your mask, appearing to take each comment with a grain of salt.
Deep down inside is another story altogether.
In private, the cheerful, energetic girl lets her mask drop. Maybe it never was fully on in the first place. How, despite your personality, you have no real friends. How, despite your so-called father's wealth, you don't take advantage of it with wild parties. How you nurse a deep resentment for your father, and how it sometimes explodes in a fiery volcano of anger.
"Wow, she's just as violent as her mother used to be!"
How the only reason you have not let loose completely, how the only way you're able to keep your personal emotions and feelings in check is a stubborn determination to not let your father win the endless emotion war.
And indeed, between father and daughter is an endless war of power. For the former, it is to establish control over his wayward offspring, and groom her into the eventual heir to his wealth as she entered her high school years. To the daughter, it is a war of rebellion, not unlike the one fought between the Capitol and the Districts so many years ago. She is defiant in her covert actions against her father from year to year, flat out refusing to associate with him or his business when he can't even be bothered to acknowledge her as anything but just another business investment.
For four long years, war has raged.
You were defiant in every way possible, dying your hated brown hair so much like your father's a flashy blonde. You applied makeup and eyeshadow on a daily basis, tapping into the most important gift your mother gave you; your womanhood. Genetics may have cursed you with your father's looks, but Ripred be damned if you weren't going to do everything you could to change that.
And so your rebellious, defiant spirit came to life, turning you into the young woman you are today. Sure, you still have your composed facade, but nowadays that mask is only half faked, the fact that you are still defying your father's will giving you more pleasure than just about anything else in the world. More and more recently, you have have steadily increased your defiance in an effort to convince your father to call off his campaign, such as adding your mother's maiden name to your own in an effort to distance yourself from him. But despite each effort, he stands firm.
Well, we'll see just how composed he is once you unleash your last, greatest scheme.
(trying out a new style and I'm pretty sure I got all the basic necessities but just lemme know if I forgot anything^^)