District 8: Tuiren Elmore

District 8: Tuiren Elmore Apr 23, 2018 3:31:30 GMT -5

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Post by Sockie on Apr 23, 2018 3:31:30 GMT -5

T U I R E N :: E L M O R E

AGE 16 | DISTRICT 8 | FEMALE | JOANA GROEBLINGHOFF

i don't speak
i don't write
i do think
but not right

trust this at your own discretion

Beautiful, soft, white-blonde hair falls down my back. I take care of it. It's my pride. Never a hair out of place, except perhaps in my worst moments. Everyone has a breaking point. My half-brother's hair is the darkest brown you can get before it's called black. When I was little I used to worry it was contagious. Getting too close to him would drip strands of muddy browns onto my pretty blonde locks. That was the excuse. Keep him away from me, I don't want his hair.
Doran's mother was a bitch, too. I hated her. She hated me. She wasn't my mother, but everyone always believed she was. She was my grandmother, but her muddy brown hair never touched me. She hated that. She hated my white-blonde father-hair. The hair of my mother and father. She loved my pale-blue grandmother-eyes. My mother and father had green eyes. She makes me want to rip my eyes out and throw them away. Doran has green eyes.

My mother died before I met her. Doran says he knew her. I believe him, he was ten when I was born. My mother was fourteen. Doran's mother says she died because she was too young for me. I'm not sure what that means. I don't care what she means. She makes my bones shake in anger when she looks at me. I'd like to crack hers. Tie her down and crack one bone in the morning and one bone in the afternoon and one bone after supper if the mood strikes me until every one of them was a pile of dust underneath her skin.
She never cracked my bones, but she ground them down until a sigh could blow me away. She let my father do his damage then came behind with her mortar and pestle while I cried in a heap on Doran's little bed. Whispering "I can fix you," when nothing was broken and "let me touch it" when something was. I was always so small, the blankets held my limbs from getting any longer, and I always getting sick from whatever she gave me. I knew she was poisoning me. She must have been. Doran said it wasn't the food, it was just my stomach problems. I make a point not to believe what Doran and my grandmother say.
My father claimed to prefer me but he never acted on it in any positive way. He told me my eyes were beautiful! Doran repeated it. His mother repeated it. My father repeated it. Beautiful eyes? We'll see about that. So I tried to take them away, with kitchen oil. It only worked in one. And it's still blue. But it's not pretty. My grandmother stopped trusting me by myself, but I wasn't going to let her hurt me.

Doran kept away from me when I asked him to, but our father loved to see us together. His children. Together. Doran said something was wrong with us, but father always said we were perfect. I believed my father until he was taken away. Doran's mother said he had his tongue taken out for telling lies. I wondered if everyone who told lies needed their tongue cut out. So when she told me she had a secret to tell me, that my father is my grandfather, I tried to cut her tongue out. Doran stopped me. They called me crazy. But how can a father be a grandfather, too? How can a brother be an uncle?
I tried to hold onto Doran when he left but I haven't seen him again. His mother told me he ran away from us because I scared him too much. I miss him, but not his ugly hair. I fill the old time running, from anything, everything. When my grandmother scares me I run away. When she makes me mad I run further. I don't want anything to be wrong with me but everything is, and it isn't my fault. And I can't run from it. And it leaves me angry. There's so much anger in me and then Doran's mother asks me to smile. I asked her if she smiled when I was hurt. She asked me if Father-Grandfather really hurt me. I said no, he would never, he thought I was perfect, he loved me like a daughter.
I should have cut my tongue out for lying.