Charlotte Wells [D4]

hold on to me as we go as we roll down this unfamiliar road,
and although this wave is stringing us along just know you're not alone,
cause I'm gonna make this place your home,
settle down, it'll all be clear,
don't pay no mind to the demons they fill you with fear

(( Name )) Charlotte 'Lottie' Lane Wells
(( Age )) Sixteen
(( Gender )) Girly Girl
(( Sexuality )) Heterosexual
(( Location )) District 4

(( PERSONALITY ))

You know the funny thing that I've noticed about myself is that even though I'm blind, I care way too much about my appearance. I do think that becoming blind made me this way. I constantly run my fingers over my face and hair, making sure that it all feels right. See, I've learned to make up for my lack of sight with my other senses. Funny how everything becomes so much louder when you're blind. I guess the 'loud' things that one sees can sometimes block out noises. Don't get me wrong though. Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I'm helpless. I'm actually very independent. Personality wise, that is.

I've been obsessed with plays and theaters since I was little, and now more than ever I guess. Since hearing the words count for a lot of the plays, I don't really mind not being able to see the actors or actresses. It actually gives more... feeling to it. My mother says that I get my melodramatic personality from the very over dramatic plays I listen to. I can't help myself, I just love being dramatic. Whether to annoy people or just because it happens naturally, I tend to blow things way out of proportion. I guess that's why I can't help but try and fake that I still have my eyesight. I, myself, try not to let anyone know that I'm actually blind until it's just blatantly obvious.

I'm cautious. Not in a 'never do anything fun' manner, but more of a 'let's think things through before we do something stupid' manner. I've been through too much to risk being stupid. I don't have time to be an idiot, even though it was fun while it lasted. My idiocy costed my eyesight, and I refuse to give up anything else vital. That's also why I tend to keep to myself. Friends lead to disaster, I always say. I think I'd rather spend time alone rather than deal with what relationships put one through. Besides, who wants to be friends with someone as blind as a bat? Certainly I wouldn't have. The me before becoming blind would have avoided anyone with a disability.

I know I'm cynical. I try to stop myself but I just can't help thinking horrible things. I can imagine their faces when they look at me, pitying me like the liability I am. I'm obsessive like that. I can't deal with people looking at me. Sometimes I can feel people's gazes burning into my skin, because I am so obviously blind. I use a cane, I run my fingers along walls... it's all so frustrating. If something touches me without me realizing it, I tend to shriek in fear. I'm quite to react verbally to things, mainly to scare off any men trying to take advantage of my blindness. Also animals scare me, mainly because I can't see them. They make me nervous. It's funny because I used to love animals.

(( APPEARANCE ))

Hey who doesn't love a good blonde bombshell? I'm almost certain I've retained my wavy blonde locks from three years ago. I remember staring at my hair and giggling at the other girls. Unfortunate how stringy their hair is. Good thing my hair is perfect, at least to me. It compliments my sharp jawline. I wouldn't say my face is exactly ideal, but I was pleased with it when I was thirteen, so why not now? It still has the same feeling that it did when I was thirteen when I ran my fingers over my cheeks. I constantly try to picture my face but it always turns out with me looking thirteen. I really hope I don't look thirteen.

I'm not thin, but I'm not super curvy. Sometimes I wish I had more curves. From what I remember, I used to be a stick. I know I'm not anymore, I've matured over these three years, I've gotten bigger. I constantly ask what 'friends' I have about my appearance, but I know they lie. They say my blue eyes are as bright as can be, but I know they are empty, emotionless. My blue eyes used to spark with mischief and now I know they only portray sadness, anxiety, and frustration. Nothing positive. My entire face usually has this very depressed look about it, lips pursed and deadened eyes.

While some people are very expressive when they talk, I'm very monotone. My hands barely move when I talk, usually crossed defensively across my chest. My face doesn't even twitch, just stares blankly at the recipient of my depression. Over all, I can look very bored. As a matter of fact, I'm probably really boring. I would believe that lie, but I dress for success. At least my attire is not boring! I know it's not. My fashion savvy sister takes me shopping for jeans, boots, shirts, everything I need. I wear colorful things to make up for my generally bleak speech and actions.

I mentioned I'm obsessed with my appearance right? Yes of course I did. I obsess over hair. I wrap my hair in socks every night. Every morning I unwrap my hair with it in a curled mess. Then it's brushed out so that it's just wavey and natural looking, as if I didn't even touch it. Magical, isn't it? Even my makeup looks put together. It took years of practice. I started when I was thirteen, and when I went blind I already had the basics down. I remember when we could afford makeup for me. Now I have to preserve everything I have. Christmas is the only time for new things this year, so I'll probably be wearing outfits repeatedly. Sigh.

(( HISTORY ))

I had a normal, boring childhood. I was the oldest of three, all girls. All blondes. All the exact same. We were all two years apart. You know what's funny? We were all accidents. All of our birthdays were in the summer, even. May, June, July. Mine? Well I was born on an especially hot day in July. July 15th to be exact. My dad was a successful fisherman, owning several boats and employing multiple crews on minimum wage. Next to nothing. I'll never understand what possessed my parents to have three kids. They could hardly handle me. I was the devil child. I hated my siblings, I hated my parents, I just wanted to run around outside with the boys that lived next door. It was September, after school, when I was thirteen. I won't forget that day, September 27th.

I was an idiot. I still remember the sickeningly sweet smell of that plant, growing against a decaying log next to the lake I learned to swim in. The boys and I were playing a game of hide and seek and I was beginning to feel a tad bit hungry. Oh that sweet smell. I took it in my hands, ripped it from the log. I took off the leaves and popped them in my mouth. Yet instead of a sugary taste I had expected, a sour and rancid taste filled my mouth. I thought I had spat out all of it, but I had swallowed some. Not only that, but I touched my face. I rubbed my eyes. I was so stupid. I went blind.

I had fainted away, actually, at first. Then when I woke up everything was black. Everything has been black ever since. You know I force myself to remember everything in great detail, and yet I cannot remember what that plant looked like. I never go to the lake now. I do remember being angry, so angry. I walked back to the place and ran my fingers over the remnants of the plant. I knew it was there. I don't know how I retraced my steps, I think it was an act of rebellion. All I know is that something dark took over me. I ground it up... I put it in my sister's drinks. Why should they be spared? Well they all got really sick, as I had been, but did not die. Actually they aren't even blind.

Ever since my foiled murder plot, I've settled down. Yes, I do resent my family. As a matter of fact, I don't even talk to them that much. They don't talk to me, either. Our family relationships have never been very strong in the first place. Sometimes I used to spend the night in hotels, but every since Mommy and Daddy split up last year I haven't tried anything. Against popular belief, I do have some sympathy in my heart. Daddy took the house and left Mommy with a small amount of money. Most of the kids stay with her year round in our two bedroom, one floor house. I, however, tend to float.

Sometimes I stay with Dad for multiple months, then move to my mother's house to try and make it up to my family for poisoning Joy and Kaylee. They don't even know yet the guilt is fresh in my heart.