Viola Hill (wanderer) DONE <3

Bad dreams and reality, what’s the difference? Life isn’t much different from my imagination and a very creative imagination to. If there was only some people, some decent people to understand me then I might think of life differently, but for now I’m on my own. In my own little creative world, full of fear, bitterness and hate.

Shy is one word to describe myself. I am always hiding from the world, hating to meet new people and talk to them. To tell you the truth I am not a really talkative person at all. Maybe if life was different I would talk to strangers and acknowledge them, but ever since that day my parents died my life has been twisted around. I do care for people though. If I see an injured person or someone lost in the woods, I do help them. I don’t believe I have an evil heart, cold and uncaring.

My face is full of compassion as I see an animal come into the clearing where I sleep. My features soften and I slowly approach the animal, my arm out stretched my kind heart warming me. I have great intelligence, even having to teach myself I have survived the wilderness and the challenges it chucks at me. I have taught myself many survival skills but sometimes even what I have taught myself doesn’t stop me from becoming sick or sometimes left starving.

I really am scared easily. The flicker of a shadow, the movement of a bush, everything makes me jump. Maybe if I had someone by my side I could face these fears and jump back into life or live a life. But at the moment I am on my own, hiding from predators and running from harm’s way. Don’t get me wrong, I love the nature around me but the wildness and beauty can sometimes freak me out, especially at night. I just would like a hand to hold or someone to guide me through my tough and solo life.

I can remember it so clearly, the night my whole life turned upside down and the moment I became insane.

The blankets covered my body as I breathed in deep wiggling deeper into my mattress. The night was cold and all was quiet in the district. I could the slight sounds of movement coming from down the hall where my parents sit in dim candle light. I heard their footsteps as they retreated to the bedroom for the night, but the soft glow of the candle stretched shadows across the whole. All I remember is falling into the deep waters of sleep.

A roaring so vicious rang in my ears and the crackling of flames. My eyes were burning as grey clouds of smoke came swirling into my room. I inhaled deeply tasting nothing but smoke. My chest tightened from the lack of oxygen and my head started to spin. “Mum,” I screamed, “please help me.” Tears came rolling down my cheeks and suddenly I felt a rough hand take hold of my shoulder. My mum’s soft voice whispered into my ear, “sweetheart come on, we have to leave the district.” My Mum tugged my arm and dragged me after her through the smoke clogged hallways.

Fresh air suddenly hit my face and I took deep breathes clutching my chest. “Run Viola!” I could hear my mother’s plead s as she urged me forward and the sound of pursuing footsteps. My legs moved quickly, pumping harder as I saw the district fence rise before me. I reached the fence and started to crawl under, metal scratching and digging into my back. I clawed my way through only to notice my parents were surrounded by a swarm of peacekeepers. “Mum! Dad!” My voice was ragged and sore with grief. I stood there helpless, looking at my parents with begging eyes. I heard them yell my name and that’s when I turned and ran, not looking back at the horrific scene as I heard shots rang out through the night air.

All for a stupid decision, all because that my parents decided to have a fight in the stores and set light to the bakery. I knew they would have fought against the peacekeepers. They would do anything than go to the capitol and become an avox. Now they are dead and I have to survive on my own.

Shapes flickered around me, my eyes following the transparent forms that walked back and forth. I am going insane, losing my mind. I remembered once calling out to them asking what they wanted but they never replied they just stood there with a pained expression. I reached my arm out to one of them, but it moved further out of my reach. That memory has haunted me forever and every now and then I see a ghostly face stare at me with sad eyes, jsu standing and looking at me.

I think I’m going crazy!