Heranna Olympica D10 FINISHED

I'm semi short, coming it at just about 4'10. I don't think I will ever get very tall, and that's frustrating. I want to be tall. I envy those who are taller than me. I weigh around 100 pounds, but part of that is due to living in one of the poorest districts around.

My hair is long, very, very long, and reaches down to just above my hips. The long black flame, as I sometimes call it, has gotten too long for me to worry about caring for it. The shade is a dark, dark , if not totally black, brown. It's messy and unkempt. I haven't bothered to brush it in a long time now. It falls down my back straight like a curtain, with no waves or curls. I keep my hair hanging in my face often. My skin is pale, and I'm not really sure if it's because of the lack of sun our district sees, or there's something about me that makes it pale and creepy like it is. My eye sockets sink back in my head, making me look like I have dark rings around my eyes.

My pale face is round, with no unusual features or bone structures under the skin. I do have eyes a bit on the large side, though I'm sure they will shrink to the size of a normal human later. They are just wide with they eyes of childhood innocence, I like to think. I have a somewhat small nose, and semi full, chapped, lips. My dark eyelashes are hardly noticeable against my large, dark brown eyes and low dark brown eyebrows. Running across my forehead is a burn scar from when I was young.

On my legs, on the back, I have scars left from the licking of flames with fire many years ago. I almost died that day, and the memory still haunts me. The back of my pale, and short legs look terrible. The burns were so painful, unlike the one on my forehead, which eventually just dulled, and was barley anything to worry about. The mark there is barley noticeable, but on the back of my legs, it is different. The burns seem to have taken the shape of roses and a few rings, though, that is from a distance, and on closer exam, the burns are just textures left in the skin by the flames. Nothing more, but I like to act like it is.

I've always been smart and considered gifted for my age. I can understand many things, like marriage, and human affections, that other children my age just think is because of lust, but I can see deeper into it. I know more. I know what it is really about. I can't explain my knowledge of marriage, all I know is just that one day, I suddenly knew way more than the average child about it. It have me a strange feeling.

Envy. Jealousy. That is two words that really describe me. I take everything a person says to heart, and will hold it against them forever. Anything a person has that I want, I will feel jealousy as strong as a storm curl inside of me, and make this hate rise up like a bubbling pool of acid. I can taste it on my tongue. Whenever someone has something that I want, I set out to steal it back, no matter what the cost. It is mine. Heranna wants, Heranna gets. I envy people who have a relationship with a guy I might have a crush on more than any other thing that could cause these feelings of sin to stir inside of me. The taste of hate is really strong then.

Don't cross me. I will unleash my full wrath. There is nothing to do to stop it. I do not like it when people defy me, after I tell them to stop bullying me, which they usually do, or any other reason. I can get very angry, and I'll try to fight back. i have no idea where the sudden energy comes from, but I suddenly feel like I can defeat these foes, whoever they are. I can feel the power, the lust for vengeance, it all seems so surreal at first, yet by now, it's faded into a part of my daily, and shallow life.

I'm a stuck up little snob. I like to waltz around like I'm royalty and nothing else, always perfect, always respected and good. I'm so full of myself, so self centered, people cringe in disgust. I get angry. I don't see why they don't respect me and treat me like royalty. I survived a deadly fire that five other people did not, after all. I think that has something to be worth known for, but people don't seem to think so, and it makes me oh so very mad.I have a dark secret about that fire though, and maybe, the other people know, and that's why they don't treat me with the respect I deserve.

I do, on a lighter note, have a small talent for writing poems, and they aren't about dark things. Usually the poems are about true love, marriage, as I stated before, or just happy things, which my life lacks.

Before the fire that seemed to change me, I was happy. Almost a bit hyper happy. It didn't matter how horribly by family would treat me, I could be bouncing off the walls with joy. I would love to help people by cheering them up, telling funny jokes, ect. Then the fire changed everything in my life, and I changed as well. Sometimes, though, even though that energy is gone, I will still try to give out good spirits to people, even though it's against my nature. I still feel a pang of compassion for these people.

I was born as the sixth child to a large family. We never did have to worry about supporting ourselves, because my Mother, Vanity Olympica, or as she was known back when she was younger Vanity Lucas, won the Hunger Games.

She was sixteen when she won. The arena was cold, always misted, and was pretty much a pine forest. For some reason she felt at home in the towering pines. Once she knew she was in the final two, she stayed in that tree for two days, getting severe frost bite and becoming hungry and dehydrated. Yet she was waiting. On the third day of her murderous vigil, her target appeared. The other final tribute was from five, a eighteen year old boy who had earned an 11 and everyone thought would win. He didn't know she was there. She fired one of her arrows. She missed. He noticed, and started climbing the tree with ease. She panicked and dropped her bow. Just as he was about to grab her, she slipped on the wet bark, her heavy back back smacking him in the face, and he fell to his death. She was crowned victor, and married my Father, Viktor. A bit ironic with the name choice.

They had twin boys first, then my oldest sister, then my younger sister, then my younger brother. The house was filled with kids, and they were all no more than a maximum of four years apart. The twins were four when my youngest brother was born.

Nobody wanted another kid in the house, yet I was born when the twins were eight. They all treated me poorly. Acted like I didn't exist, and I hardly got any food. I slept in a room alone in the towering house on the victor's lane in a cold room in the basement. So I got fed up with it.

One day I was playing in the living room by the fire place and discovered that it could set plants afire. I stabbed a fern into the fireplace, but it danced back and licked my forehead, giving me the slight scar I have. I dropped the plant in pain and ran off, unintentionally starting a fire.

Everyone in my family was killed. I almost died. The flames gave me horrible three degree burns on my legs. I managed to drag myself out of the burning house before collapsing in the grass outside of the house. I was close to death. I laid there, face up, gazing at the brilliant patterns of stars in the night sky. They were my only company. I felt empty. The pain in my legs was white hot. I was rescued a day later and was sent to live in the community home, where I have been living for six years now. I killed my family when I was five.

It was an accident, but I realized how much better life got after they died. My legs healed, but they still hurt, and the burns ruin my appearance.

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