Veronica Faerxel- D5(FINISHED)

Don't call me beautiful but don't call me ugly either. Call me, average. You say beautiful is those stuffed lips and funky colors in the Capitol but I say, it naturally comes to you. They say ugly are the people in the districts but can't you say you're ugly on the inside as well? Just my opinion. Guess it doesn't matter anymore since some give me the title of beauty. Why though? Just never mind...Forget I said anything. I will go on trying to describe myself as this magnificent young woman and such when really, I am a nobody.

My hair is red, like flames and fire that burn through the soul. It's curly and goes all the way to my torso. I can never seem to get it to flow perfect over my head but it's alright to me. I don't really know how I would describe my face and its features but I’ll try. I have sharp features and an oval head? I have bright green eyes and my nose it is sort of in a triangular shape while the nostrils are well hidden when I look straight ahead. My lips are small and sometimes bleed from where they are chapped. The color is well known when they do so, a bright pink.

I weigh 124 pounds and I am 5'6 so I think i'm a bit underweight. My size has affected my overall appearance in strength and the heaviest thing I can lift is a coffee table or an inn table or so I think. My muscles don't bulge like they used to either. They are more like small slabs of meat. Describing my body shape, I would say I have curves and hopefully a prize to a man someday which I highly doubt but a girl can dream, Can't she?

I typically wear a bright red t-shirt and ripped up jeans without shoes. I hate it when I clean off this shirt and have to take it off. It just brings bad memories of when I was a child and got whipped. I still have scars, plus I have bad acne on my back and it's nasty. My feet are what you could say "small" and my second toe is just as big as my first toe which is supposedly inherited from other family member. Maybe from one less...um...what's the word? insane.

Call me insane. Demented. Weird. I've heard it all but honestly, I care about the people I take into my home. They are more than friends, they are family. They have their flaws and I have mine. It's as simple as that you see. Some more than others. I give them the 3 needs, Food, Water, and shelter. Sometimes we even just add a bit of fun to shake it up. I make them look nice and sweet just like I try to be in my own heart. Sometimes it doesn't always happen but I try hard and that's all that matters. Right? I hope so because if that isn't enough my world might as well end right here and now. No doubts about it.

I describe my hobbies as the 2R's. Reading and Running. When I read it's like a whole new world. People are so different and beautiful in their own ways. One minute you think a character is going to confess their dying love for another character but instead they commit suicide or live their whole life in misery of hopelessness because they can't get over them. Running to me is like a stress reliever and is similar to a squeezing ball. I sneak away during the night when all my siblings and house residents are asleep and go for miles. This means, without stopping. Secretly, I sing to myself on stressful nights. I would share my hidden talent of singing to my family but I don't why but it is my way of having a little freedom in these terrible districts.

They don't call me The Normal one for nothing. I live with these people of craziness and often finding myself hating life because I can't get a break. I start huffing and puffing when one tries to get me to comb their hair for school but another wants me to hug and kiss them good night. It just gets so aggravating! "Can't I have one moment of peace!?!" The words I often find myself yelling and running into my room, trying to hide from reality. It just won't work and I need to face that fact. I live in my body and I chose the way I live. If I wanted to I could just walk out this house and run off into the woods and become a wanderer but it would hurt the people in my home, so I don't.

The Hunger Games? Oh the Hunger Games makes me tear up and hide in a corner! It is so blood wrenching when the Bloodbath begins and all these innocent children die. The probability of a tribute coming out is 1/24. This poor lone victor comes out with cheers and congrats when sometimes, they are dying inside and the nightmares haunt them forever. I could never imagine it as well as reality does itself and just sort of hope none of my "family" will ever get picked. It is actually something I came up with but I try to get my family to pray on reaping day for the sibling in the household 12-18 years old.

I grew up quickly and almost immediately. It was as if the mother turtle laid her eggs and forgot about her babies. I was just lucky enough to make it to the sea before the birds ate me. When I made it into the sea many more dangers faced me. Peacekeepers, the reapings, and just the fact supporting both my mother and I. I was also a newly found mother of more "special needs" children. The only difference, I hadn’t forgotten about my babies and I was going to raise my children better. This I vowed for I knew how it felt to be abandoned and left to die. I had faced this challenge many times growing up.

At first, I was a goner. My mother had me and left me in the floor to slowly fade away, she was in her own mind. There was no doubt about it. She needed affection, love, and caring just to function properly. A sweet 5 year old girl like me couldn't even plenish her thirst. It was sad but it was the truth. It wasn't worth sugarcoating like the Capitol does with the games. I went days, even weeks without eating till the pain got so strong I had to beg venders and my cute little face was enough. I left markets with baskets and baskets full of food from oranges to apples. Some days though, the venders didn't have anything for skinny little me and I would go on to the next vender. You could call me the heart-struck thief. It was one nickname I had then and never would now. I'm not as cute as I used to be and these eyes wouldn't work on a grown man.

As I grew older school got harder and harder and I started to fail most of my classes. I tried not to but I didn't have any support and in 2 years I would be in the reaping where another 10 pound weight would be thrown upon my weak shoulders. Ignoring the fact I became the bad girl in school. I hung around the poplars and became the female dog of my school. Everyone loved me and I loved them. Simple as that. Over that time frame I had lost over 30 pounds and was going to fall from starvation if I didn't intake some food, and fast. Hanging around the cool kids was one of the worst mistakes I had ever made. I walked up to a cart and just took the food. A peacekeeper was watching and dragged me all the way to the whipping post where my life would be scarred forever and a small red bump would always remind me of this horrible day. I nearly died from the 18 whippings to my back and another threat formed.

I was officially 12 years old on May 27th and it was my first reaping. I didn't dress up and the whipping rumor still haunted me like a ghost. I was known as "The whipping girl" for months but I had got used to its affects. I remember seeing my mother stare blankly at me like I wasn't even there, like I wasn't even a person. I was more of a mule. When the capitolite reached into the bowl, I held my breath and my heart started pounding louder than a chainsaw. I closed my eyes and listened to the name which wasn't mine. It was like this for the rest of my years and school was getting easier and easier. My fascination with chemicals had grown and I was ready to get into my new job. To quit school was kind of odd for me at the time but that's alright.

I remember my 18th birthday so well like it was yesterday. My friends cheered for me right after the day was gone. A weight was lifted off these weak shoulders and I had no time to worry about getting thrown into the arena, having to fight to the death. Oh how great life felt during those times. It seemed like I was taking in more and more of the crazes but I didn't mind. I was lonely and they were good to talk to when I wasn't feeling to good and they wouldn't comment in a smart butt way like my old friends. I started working in the factories and it was fun. People used to scream at me for mixing the wrong chemicals but it was all too fascinating. I would laugh and sing though i really should have been working. I didn't care though and it was my way out. I started slipping through the fence and running through the woods in the night to run. It seemed like an escape from the insanity of the world. From then on, I am who I want to be.

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