D2 // Tris Balio [FIN]

( N A M E ) Tris Balio
( A G E ) Seventeen
( G E N D E R ) Female
( D I S T R I C T / A R E A ) District Two

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember


( A P P E A R A N C E )

No one has ever called you beautiful. Instead, you've gotten "Hot," and although some girls would fall dead if a boy told her she's that, you're not among those girls. Hot is rude, after all. Hot is saying you have a nice body, but not a nice face. "Sexy," goes along with hot. A derogatory term that has nothing to do with personality and everything to do with appearance. "Cute," is just dumb. What are you, a ten-year old getting ready for picture day? You don't need people calling you that anymore. A girl's shoes can be cute, but not the girl herself unless she's still in second grade. "Pretty," might be the closest you've gotten to beautiful. No one has even called you gorgeous, Tris, and for some reason that bothers you because you know you're more than that, and you need reassurance. You just want to hear the word "Beautiful," slip out of someone's mouth, and you knowing it's all yours.

Because really, Tris, you are beautiful, even if some girls might tell you otherwise.

Sure, your hair might not fall perfectly everyday, a few strands straying from the pact, but it doesn't make your hair ugly, it makes you human. And with a few strokes from a brush, your obsidian hair with lighter streaks starts looking inline again. And even if your eyes are a little to big, making you look paranoid, the green-blue color makes up for it. Because when the light shines upon the pair of irises, they twinkle like a star. And Tris, your long eyelashes, reaching up to the sun like what a plant does, are gorgeous. Elongated and flowing naturally in an upward curve. Oh, and your mouth, filled with straight, white teeth makes everything about you look even more uniform. Your smile could light up a room, you know, what with the pink, curving lips and teeth that poke their way through. And your chin compliments it nicely, smooth and round, going with the flow of your ovular head. Then, there's your nose, plastered in the middle of your acne- and freckle-less face. Albeit it's not fat, it's still a bit bulbous at the end of the slight slope. Your ears are neatly tucked beneath your hair like a kid in his bed, and only the top part sticks out. It's not that you're embarrassed of the slightly-large ears, it's just more convenient and you could argue that it looks better. Your neck is long, but not long enough for "Giraffe" to be a suitable nickname for you. And where your neck connects to your sloping shoulders, you can see your collarbones prominently stick out above your breasts.

Skin as soft as a baby's bottom secures your organs and bones into one compact figure. And even if knives and other various weapons have tried to break their way through the surface, you're only ever left with scratches. No scars. Even the soles of your feet show signs of a copious amount of applied lotion. It pays off, apparently. Don't forget your arms and legs, Tris, long and skinny. No one would expect to see so much strength generate from them in a time of need. How often do you paint the nails at the end of each limb, Tris? It must be at least once a week, layer after layer of the same peach-colored polish. To go along with it, your hands and feet are both apricot shades with blue veins threatening to break through the surface.

Albeit you're not exactly flat, you wish you had more. Just a little something to show off at a pool party or another reason to wear a sports bra whilst Training. But, beggars can't be choosers, Tris, and it's better to have something than nothing at all. There is one thing flat about you that you're thankful for: Your stomach. And it's all natural, too. No eating disorder to make your lose weight easier. No starving yourself. No laxatives. Just eating healthy and exercising. And sometimes, when you hear stories about girls with eating disorders, you don't call them attention whores like some of your friends. You kind of feel bad for them, because you know what it feels like to think you're not enough.

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad it was over


( P E R S O N A L I T Y & H I S T O R Y )

If the man and woman aren't in love when they make love, what happens to their baby? Or worse: What if the parents are in love when they conceive the baby, but by the time the baby's born, they're not in love anymore? Sadly, the latter is the case for you, Tris. They were divorced before you could remember, leaving you and your two older brothers caught in the middle. Every Sunday night, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning, you're with your dad. All the other days are spent at your mom's. Your brothers are quite lucky, Tris, because they both live on their own now. Everything feels empty without them, and it's funny because when you were with the pair of them, all you wanted to do was fight.

But it's all you were ever used to, Tris; being tossed back and forth like a baseball catch between a father and son. And whenever your friends would talk about their parents' dates or fights, you were jealous, because even if your parents were arguing every second, at least they'd be together. It's not like they don't talk, but it's pretty obvious they want nothing to do with each other. After time, both of your parents got married again. They were both nice people, albeit you started to prefer your dad's house over your mom's. It wasn't anything personal, it's just your dad's girlfriend knew what you were going through as a kid and as a teen, unlike your mom. No matter what, you'll always be your mom's little angel. With Cindy - your dad's girlfriend - she thought of you as a grown woman, seeing that she met you when you were fifteen. And your mom's boyfriend was some dork named Gerald. He was nice, Tris, and you can admit that he's cute in a quirky/nerdy kind of way, but he's not nearly as handsome as your dad.

School and Training were always a part of your daily life, no matter what house you were staying at for the time-being. At first, when starting both of those commitments, they seemed like a chore. Now, they're activities you actually find pleasure in. And although school also comes with a copious amount of schoolwork, it's all worth it to see your friends. With Training, however, there really is no negative, except all of the perspiration makes you feel nasty. That's a small price to pay, seeing that Training will keep you alive in a time of need.

And when you're not doing school-related work on Training, chances are you're with your friends. And when you're with your friends, you're either gossiping or talking about boys or painting each others' nails or doing each others' hair or drinking. Pretty much what all girls in District Two do. As long as someone has an older sibling who can buy them booze, or a parent that stores some in the fridge and trusts their kid alone, they have alcohol. And it's not like any of them are hardcore drinkers who get hammered, they're all pretty safe about it. First, they dip their toes in, and then they go waist-down, but they don't dare going any further; getting buzzed at the most.

Oh, and yes. There were times where her group of friends weren't exactly friends. Splitting into different groups to fight their own battles, but they're girls and girls just want drama like how misers want money. And like a storm, their fights pass over. The only thing is: There's not always a rainbow.

But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
No you didn't have to stoop so low

The one thing that changed your life the most, Tris, involved: You, one of your older brothers (Clancy), your friends, your fling at the time and alcohol. It really is a sad one, but also one with stupidity and foolishness. You should've listened, Tris, you should've read the signs. Because although no one knew it was coming, everyone knew something was up. Everyone except for you. But Tris, you were just being your stubborn - and slightly naive - self, and that's not really anyone's fault, but a mistake.

Summer was finally coming to a close. You know what I'm talking about, right? Like that feeling in your stomach; the feeling that brings anxiousness and nervousness in one package. And the nights were starting to become breezier, the cold wind tugging your hair gently in rhythm with it. But the constant bonfires made up for the loss of heat, burning your face and perhaps melting your heart, letting your guard down a little bit. This night was a warmer one. Three days until school started again. You were only sixteen, Tris, sixteen. You were so young, but there's nothing you can do now.

The fire was burning bright in the backyard of your friend's house. It was a small get-together, maybe about ten kids - both genders - sitting around an orange flame just talking and drinking. The boy you were talking to at the time was there, sitting by your side the whole night. The girl's parents weren't home, but you guys didn't feel the need to go inside, because there wasn't any. Might as well take in the warm weather while you could. It must have been at least one in the morning when your eyelids couldn't stay open, no matter how bright the fire in front of your eyes was. You were staying at your friend's house for the night, or else you wouldn't have been there so late. You usually don't pass out this early, but you've seemed to intake an excessive amount of alcohol, slurring your words and making you incapable of walking in a straight line. You told your friend you were gonna go to sleep now. So, you walked inside, up to her room, took off all of your clothes, besides your undergarments, and crawled in bed. It took you seconds to fall asleep.

The boy you were seeing at the time must've asked to go to the bathroom, because you were awoken by the sound of his voice calling for you. You told him where you were. What a stupid thing to do, Tris. He walked over to the bed you were occupying and sat next to you. He stroked your hair. Kissed your forehead, and after a while, his kisses starting going down. Your mouth. Your neck. Your shoulder. It felt good, but you didn't want it. You told him to stop, Tris, but he didn't listen. He slipped his hands under your bra, and you tried to scream, but he took his hand and slapped you. Told you to shut up. So you did. But not for long. Because when his hand left your breasts and started going down, down, down, you told him to stop, but you were tired, and he was stronger than you. He slapped you again, and the back of his hand felt like a whip. You started crying, Tris, silent tears melting like icicles out of your eyes. You didn't know what to do. You didn't want to scream, because you know he'd hit you even harder. You didn't want to fight, because you knew who would win. So you let it happen.

It went faster than you thought. It was painful for a while, but then you went numb. When you woke up, there was a pool of blood around the "lower area" of your body. When your friends confronted you about it, you said you must've gotten your period overnight.

Little did they know, you were a virgin who just lost it.

You cried when you got home, and Clancy, your older brother, was there to comfort you. When he asked what's wrong, you told him. He could have said: I told you so. He could have said: I was right. He could have said: Why didn't you believe me? Instead, he said: I'll handle this. Apparently, he beat the shit out of the kid. You knew your brother wouldn't get it trouble; if the boy ratted out on Clancy, what would he say? This boy beat me up because I raped his sister? But still, Tris, that didn't fix the hole in your being. He took something from you that was meant to be special. Meant to be sacred. Instead, he snatched it from you at a time of weakness.

Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

( C O D E W O R D ) Odair
( F A C E C L A I M ) Jessica Serfaty

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
But I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go

( C O M M E N T S / O T H E R )

Template Credit to Lalia.

Somebody That I Used To Know by Gotye (feat. Kimbre)

I figured because it's Jessica Serfaty she doesn't need flaws.

And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough

( T E X T ) B8B09F
( T H I N K I N G ) FFF7C0
( S P E A K I N G ) 72697E
( O T H E R ) 86AC97
( O T H E R S P E A K I N G ) C2D2AC

No you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Somebody (I used to know)