Odette Terrion of D11: FINISHED

Well... what does appearance mean? Is it literal or metaphorical because that varies when it comes to me. So I'll answer both ways. On the outside I've been called "beautiful." They say that my large brown eyes seems to stare into the souls of others. They say that black hair is just high lighted by the white streak bleached in. I stand next to them with my 5'6" body. I'm at eye level yet almost always over looked. I guess the only physical feature that seems to pop out is my teeth. They seem to be strangely aligned at the bottom. Then their is my scar. It's a 4 inch scar on the lower are of my back. Left behind from the stitches from that night. Every night, I feel that scar, rubbing my hand along that smooth, raised skin.. I trace it over and over again until I fall asleep, remembering him and everything he did.

When I look in the mirror all I see is my small frame. I want to gain weight, because at 120 I'm not very intimidating, or noticeable. My face doesn't matter. I do not believe in beauty or ugliness on the outside. I believe that that's all on the inside. I'm not sure if I'm beautiful or ugly on the inside... the only way to describe it is as a constant fire burning. And that fire blocks out everything and everyone from getting to me. And I like it that way.

|P e r s o n a l i t y|

My personality in one word would be fearless. I do not fear anything. "A spider?" "A good boot will kill it." "A snake?" "I'd turn around but I wouldn't scream." "The dark?" "What changes in the dark? Nothing." I guess that is a good thing, because if I had fear then facing my demons would be to difficult. Then again fear is good... maybe if I had fear then I wouldn't have gone with him. And I would be safe.

I can come off a fierce or dangerous. Maybe it's the fact that I just don't like having to trust others. It makes sense considering what I've been through. Maybe I just like to intimidate people. I mean what's wrong with that? But, if people can pass my usual first greeting of "F*** off," then I have respect, because they don't judge, that doesn't mean I'll be all nice and friendly. If they choose to stay around then they need to deal with my harshness. There is such a tiny portion of people that stay for more than an hour that I'm beginning to miss human contact. And I think deep down I want a friend, but I know I can never have one. I guess that's the price I pay for trusting the wrong person...

Then there is my creativity. My mind can paint an exotic picture out of the simplest of scenes. I paint and I paint. Every day since the incident I've painted a picture. I love to paint some one and then in the place where their hearts are suppose to be I paint an inner animal. For most of my classmates it's an insect. They buzz and buzz spreading rumors and lies. For my father it's a dog, kind and loyal. My mother is a blue bird, small and tiny yet some how strong. And He... He was a lion, now he is just a memory.

|H i s t or y|

I was born the cool autumn day of November 6th. My parent had been trying for a child for over 3 years before "their little miracle" had come. We were a middle class family in District 11, where the slightest breeze would cause almost a billion leaves to rustle at once. I was so innocent. Living with only my parents I never know about the cruelty of Panem. I made a few friends in elementary, including a girl named Jen. We were the closest of friends. I remember the day she betrayed me. She whispered to the other girl that I had sleep with an boy a year older. That may not seem big but when your 15 years old it's major. When I called her out on it everyone stood up for her and not me. At that moment I knew I couldn't trust my own kind.

And so I went through life along for the most part. I kinda liked it that way, because I could get lost in my own world. My grades never were the best and they plummeted after the Jen incident. My parents were worried and sent me to a tutor. I made it clear to him that I didn't like him and scared him off before the second meeting. My parents dropped it, hoping it was only faze in my preteen years. I raced through the next few years painting. I could work magic with colors. Any color. Soon that was all I thought about. I painted and painted.

Then the fateful day where I met it. I can remember every detail. I was 16. It was a particularly snowy winter and with the snow whistling around the school everyone was racing to get into the school. Rumors claimed that new kid was going to be joining our class, but with the snow blowing into my face I didn't give it a second thought. I was in second period when he burst through the door. His face was bright red from nippy air outside. His brown hair was thrown behind him like a halo of dark brown. And his eyes seemed to scan the classroom like an invisible beam sprouting from two light blue eyes. Everyone looked down except for me. I feared no on in this classroom, why was he any different? But he was. He walked tall and proud no one could hurt him. I feel for him immediately, not when he snapped at the teacher "Shut up you old vulture."She sent him to the principles office and the girl next to me whispered to her friend "That must be the transferred, Nicholas. Some one told me his other teacher couldn't handle him. He's cur but too much trouble for me." And trouble he was. In the first few weeks he was suspended twice. I became his follower. I loved everything about him from his eye color to his personality to his recklessness. I went to everything with him. Parties, school, and he even brought me to his beat down shack of a home one. It was small, and his father was abusive but I didn't care. I loved him. I truly did. I mean I loved him more than anything in this world. Maybe trust is my greatest flaw.

It was about two months after meeting him. We went to a party, if you call 10 people drinking with a radio a party. I noticed that many of the guest were in their twenties but they were Nick's friends and that's all I cared about. They had illegally made a type of beer out of the potatoes from the fields. It had a nasty taste but I drank some any way liking the way it made all the worries of everyday life disappear. I drank a couple of drinks then pulled Nick to the "dance floor" and we swayed to the music for a while. The night sky over head made everything even more romantic. I kissed him underneath the sky for every star in this galaxy to see. I wanted everyone to know that I loved this boy. Then I began to feel sick. Maybe I drank just on to many beers, but I didn't want that moment to end, no matter how sick I felt. So I kept on swaying and staring into his light blue eyes that had the same glow of a fire inside. I didn't know his fire was of anger. I swayed and swayed and soon I noticed the world was swaying too. I got really dizzy and managed to get out something about too many. Then I puked up all my meals from the day. All of it... right.... on... Nick. I bent over and choked on all the vile substance that forced its way up. After a few minutes I managed to look up at Nick. "I- I- I'm sor-ry" he was still looking down at his ruined shirt and jacket and when I spoke he realized who caused it. He looked at me and that glow of fire and turned into an inferno of anger. "YOU STUPID BITCH! You ruined my shirt.""I-" before I could finish a sharp pain hit my stomach. I realized that Nick had just kicked me. "Wha-" but he had kicked me again. His friend must have thought it was a game, and joined in. They kicked me over and over again in a mob effect sort of way, but the friends didn't matter because while this was happening I was staring into the eyes of Nick. My one true love muttering under his breath curses at me. "Stupid bitch- whore- fucking vomiting on me-"

When the Peacekeepers found me the next day with three broken bones and covered in a layer of black and blues they informed me that I wasn't the first one. His friends were part of some sicko group that believes women are the devil and have their new members bring a girl to abuse for initiation. My vomiting must have been his excuse for hitting me. I wasn't the first and I wouldn't be the last. I was just lucky to escape with my life, but the only thing I cared about was the fact that Nick never loved me.

I cried myself to sleep every night after that. I still do.