Rosette Beatrix - {District 2}

I have wide eyes and they are my most amazing attribute. Or so I'm told. I used to stare at my very unusual eyes, one a beautiful emerald green with yellow-gold flecks, the other a light brown with freckles of bronze scattered throughout my eye. I would stare until my deep black pupils shrank to half the size they usually are, and I was forced to blink because I was scared my eyes would shrivel up like raisins and fall out. Brother would always lie to me about that. I could never see in my eyes what my father called rose petal eyes. I checked for hours on end for the "rose" in my eyes. All i could see were light brown and emerald green eyes. Nothing special.

I also recall writing down what I saw. Brown eye, my green eye, slightly crooked ears that go all pink when I blush, more freckles on my left cheek than my right, my awkward smile... My smile! That part is my favorite out of my whole face! The cute, baby blush pink top lip and deep pink with a slight hint of purple bottom lip just work so well together. Then with an open smile my dimples come out and I get to show off my naturally straight-ish bottom teeth and ever so slightly pushed to the left top teeth. I love every part of my mouth. But that's where the attacks sound from.

Anyways I'm changing the subject... Lets talk about my hair. Its a bit shorter than I wished it would be but, what ever. Just above my chest is okay. Its shiny and soft looking, sometimes I brush my hand through it just for the sensation. My hair is parted just where I want it. Far to the right, and a tiny french braided made from my bangs headed to wards the left. My original hair color was a timid, pure looking blond. I hated it so much. Why should I be judged because of my hair? So I dyed it a vivid red, the color of fresh blood as it seeps out from your cut. I also cut my hair so it was almost perfectly straight at the ends.

Alright, well I'm average. Well, kind of small. I'm about 5'6 so I'm not a shrimp but I'm shorter than others. I have kind of tanned skin. I'm not sure if you can call it tanned, actually. My skin is pretty pale... My head is more oval than circular. I have beautiful long legs, that my mother called me giraffe-legs for. I'm also quite skinny. Not freakishly skinny. But skinny. Another thing: I have faint white-pale healed scars all over my arms and legs. These are from my "talent".

Fashion. Yeah I might not be into it all that much but that doesn't mean i cant wear knee high socks, black and the other white with black boots, with white fur in the middle, that go just up past my ankle. I usually wear these with my matching pair of black and white separate, wrist length, gloves. I cut the fingers of my gloves off. My T-shirt is black and white as well. The white part is where my chest is. The black part starts right under my chest. Its a tight fabric, laced, but I can breath in it. My skirt is pretty awesome. Just saying. It just seems to flow with how I'm walking. Its short, but not so short that you can see under it when i bend over. I wear black short shorts under it. You know... Just in case.

My personality is... I guess emotional. I can get really mad then burst into a sobbing mess. Satisfied then excited to depressed. I sometimes say things out of place. I might tick someone off easily...

Alright. I do have a bit of a secret. I don't feel pain. Well, rather, I make myself believe I don't. I kind of got to used to it. For example, lets say I fall down and cut open my knee. Well, yeah it sounds painful but I might not realize its bleeding or scraped until I get home. It can be useful when some bullies pick on me, I fall down or try impress my friends. Never worked with my friends. When I was caught by my parents they took me to a doctors. The doctors gave me this medicine and I'm not afraid to admit I'm addicted to the medicine! 100% addicted. Its good in it's own way you know? It helps stop my attacks and its something I can focus on. I'm not much of a focused person.

Well, I'm not just full of weird traits. I am happy at times and I can be kind and caring as well. But, I can't tell what love is. Is it that sinking feeling in your chest that seems to devour you. Or could it be that feeling that makes you grin like and idiot? That makes you feel different than usual? I'm a friendly person but when I'm told that I'm loved, no matter who the person, I push them away. Like my parents. Anyways, I'm sometimes called wise. I don't exactly know the meaning but it's good enough to think as a compliment.

My favorite color is red. Red like roses... Which is my favorite flower. Every petal so delicately placed. A beautiful flower with thorns. Sounds just like me. I don't really have a favorite animal... I mean, I like animals, I really do, it's just they don't like me. I'm not scared of the dark. I'm scared of being alone in the dark. I'm not scared of heights, I'm just scared of falling. Other than that, I don't have many fears.

When I was younger, about six, I used to watch my dad flip his cooking knives while cooking for my family. A little habit of his. When my family was away I used to take the knifes and try to flip them. But, not very high. I was scared of hurting myself. I guess this is where my little "talent" starts. Everyday i would try to go a little higher. Sure, I would get cuts but not very big ones. I am kind of fearless, I guess.

So, when I was about nine, I was able to flip knives about two feet in the air. By accident, one of the knives went back wards just a bit and gently stabbed into some of the extra skin on my arm. Not anywhere in the middle. I remembered just staring at the knife in shock. "I don't feel anything" I told myself. "Nothing."

After that, I avoided the knives. But, curiosity killed the cat and I began to try cutting my palms. I still felt nothing. I would stare angrily at the blood then begin to cry because I knew it was weird and I was different. Then I would laugh. I would laugh because I thought I was blessed.

One day, I took some knives to school. I showed my friend. I don't even remember her name anymore... Anyways, I showed her and some other children saw so they ran over. I threw the knives weaving them through the air until I noticed the red on the blades then the horrified looks of my peers, all staring at my hands. The knives had cut me. I was bleeding and it was soaking my hands. Dripping to the ground. I began to laugh. I was over joyed. I thought they saw me as a god. After that day I was an outcast from everyone else. I was no longer a friend to anyone. I was that weird, alien girl who would cut herself.

I would get angry at my parents. I would sob recklessly to my brother. I would throw knives at the class photo. I hated them and they hated me. But, I didn't want to be hated. I eventually just went back to juggling knives. I still liked them and it felt kind of like home to have them with me at all times.

One day, my parents came home too early. That, or I had lost track of time. I had just widdled a knife through the skin between my pointing finger and my thumb when my parents walked in. My mother shrieked and I turned around, a little to fast. Hit my elbow on the island counter and ripped part of the skin off. I sighed and dropped my hand to my side, the other pinned to the window counter next to the sink, and i did not knowing what to expect. Eventually they removed the knife and rushed me to the hospital.

I told them over and over I didn't feel anything. They didn't believe me. I kept trying to tell them but eventually, I blacked out, just a moment after I saw a doctor eject a needle from my skin. I woke up later and heard the voices of the doctor talking to my parents from the other side of the curtain. They probably thought I was still asleep...

I remember them talking about me being born a bit too early. Was I a mistake? I narrowed my eyes angrily. I remember listening to the doctor go on and on about a mental illness. I forget the name. Anyways, he said it caused me to ignore pain. I grinned a bit at that, I admit. Not being just average is more or less a great feeling to me. The doctor said something about two medications. One medication to stall the mental illness and another medication to prevent side effects. I only began to cry when i heard the last part. I would die early from the mental disease.

I began to cry, get frustrated, angry, excited for nothing and desperate to know what the side effects were. A few months later, at school, I was messing around with a sandwich when it sprung within me. I had felt myself start to shake about half an hour before. Then, I could feel my voice shrieking and ripping out of my throat. I was rushed to the hospital, still screaming uncontrollably. I screamed until the doctors forced a pill down my throat. I felt my lungs stiffen and my stomach turn for a second then everything was fine. Like entering the eye of the storm.

Apparently, a side effect was i would scream like insanity was after me if I didn't take the pill before the half hour was up. My voice had also been damaged. Apparently, i had screamed so badly, for so long that I had broken something within me. I can't exactly speak very loud anymore.

After that I began sneaking both medications in fear of shrieking again. I slowly became addicted to it. My parents decided to put my medication away until I truly needed it. What they didn't know was that I was still juggling knives and cutting myself. I got infuriated with my parents. I found the medications and stole as many as a back-pack could carry. I then took another back-pack and filled it with matches of clothes, all the exact same to my favorite outfit. Then, I left. I ran away with my brother.

I had no idea what I was supposed to do after that. I knew i had to savour the medicines otherwise I would run out all too soon. So, we headed out to the streets. I didn't run away. i only ever return to my house for money, sleep, bathrooms and socializing with my brother. Who I don't usually get to see.

Tenebrae is still being created...