Kyanite Ruze; D2; FIN

This is why I am the way I am

Blood. Blood began staining my hand from the open wound. I roll over, propping myself up on my elbow as I gaze to the mangled mess that was my hand; mesmorized. The bone peeking out from under the skin. The bone that was exposing itself to the outside air made tears begin to well up in my dark brown eyes. The air circulating around my hand made it feel as though someone was throwing salt into it. Nothing but searing pain was taking over my thoughts. Gritting my teeth, I stare at it stunned. In shock. I felt the water forming in the corners of my eyes. I also felt the eyes of many looking at me. I could feel their eagle like eyes burning through me. Waiting. Wanting to know what my next move will be. Consequently, I knew that my parental unit wouldn't appriciate the look of weakness, especially in front of the crowd of onlookers or I would risk a worse punishment at home. So with all my might, I held the tears back, all the while, wanting to scream out.

The way the scene happened was too quick for me to even comprehend, even now. It was totally a blurr. The moment that Jins began to rush me. He used his foot to trip me like he had so many times in our youth growing up. The fall, however, caught me off guard as I heard the audience began to wail out in protest, then that new sensation began to fill my senses with the pain. The training sword he used was turned suddenly as he smashed the hilt of it into my hand, crushing the bone making it tear through my skin. It was almost too much to perceive that my vision began to swim from where I was laying. The more I looked at my hand, the more my stomach began to churn and do flips. The blood being the one thing that seemed to always make me queasy; set me on edge with fear. Seeing the blood on others wasn't what bothered me. It's the thought of a painful death that frightens me. I can tell my eyes go wide the whole time I lay there. That's when I heard my dad's voice penetrate my ears; jarring me and making me focus. It gave me a chance to think about something else. Something that wasn't on the radiating heat that burnt through my hand with each subtle breath.

"Don't you even think of giving up, girl. Get up. Now Kya. Now. You think they'll go easy on you in the real thing? Huh? Answer me." My dad's voice coached from the side. The pre-teen boy in front of me gave me a death stare, with a chuckle to match. How much I began to feel a rush of rage against him. I gripped my hand in pain.

"Breath. Just breath... focus." I coached myself. My soul objective at the moment was to calm down. Not to act out of haste. Breathing in and out, hoping to stay conscious just when the dots began forming in front of my eyes. I move to get up, pushing my good hand against the ground. There was a sound from the crowd as I moved to get up. Cheering me on. Pushing me to get up. I stand, with some difficulty from my vision, but hold my ground steadily. I dare not sway. The next thing I know, I see the boy rush at me again. He was the ruthless person in grade school that tripped me on my first day in first grade. The same boy that knocked the tray out of my hands in the fourth grade. He was also that boy who inspired me to speak up and fight back in the sixth grade when he bullied me into a corner. Through the years, he was the only person that I ever truely despised, indefinately. Now? He was going to get his just deserts.

The moment arose for me to come out on top when he came at me with the training sword again. I fought back with the wooden spear and one good hand. Dodging was the easy part, especially when he didn't expect me to move so quickly. The moment that I dropped to the ground, he stumbled from the lack of flesh to hit. I heard him groan, his feet squealing on the floor of the training center when he came to a halt. It was that moment, that I turned and jabbed the spear into his back, as it splintered and broke. I dropped the handle to the spear.

"Hey... that's a foul. That's not allowed." Jins wailed, howling in pain from the jab to his back. He hadn't even flinched when he broke my hand. Why should he flinch with the pain I just inflicted upon him in return? I glared at him with a dangerous smile, then adverted my gaze elsewhere. To my brother, Garrett, then to my dad as I waited for his approval for me to be finished with this battle. I waited for what seemed like ages before the angered frown on his face grew lighter. Then the symbol of just a quick nod gave me the relief I so desperately needed. I fell to my knees, clutching my broken and bloody hand that day. I was only twelve, training for the life that I have been chosen for, today. A career. A tribute. A hopeful candidate for glory. To seek out, for my dad and myself, something to make my family proud. My goal is simple, though. Never give up. Never let anyone take advantage of you. I fight to win. I fight for myself.

A mirrored image

There once was a day, before all the training began, that I would look into a mirror at my face. I would have seen a tooth missing or my hair braided into two long ropes beside my ears. A few freckles that adorned my nose and a half smile of someone who was afraid to go to school. I was teased when I was younger by a boy that made my life a living hell growing up. He made me conscious of my body. My looks. Every aspect of myself that would make me think that I wasn't worth a thing.

For years, everytime I looked into a mirror, I would see someone who was too afraid to stand up for what I wanted. To say what was on my mind, but then my mother started to tell me that I was beautiful. That I was worth more than the sun or the flowers that bloomed in the spring. She was my inner strength. We would talk for hours, laughing and giggling. Talking about my future in the life of a career that I would turn out to be. That was, until she passed away when I was ten. Her words never left me. They always lingered in my head. I ended up writing down everything I could remember that she had said to me in a journal. Just to keep a part of her close to me forever. The journal that I kept is nothing special. It's just a small little book, yellow with a zigzag edging on it, but inside are things I kept to myself. Words that empower me.


You are the most beautiful young lady. You are strong. Independant. Don't let anyone ever tell you different. You can beat them, because they underestimate you. They only see what's on the outside. They see your half, fearful smile. Your toothless smile. They don't see the strength that lies inside of your mind and in your heart. You will forever be someone that can come out on top

The first page is my first memory of her words and will always be my last. As long as I have this journal with words from her, I'll never forget her. Even as I grew up in the years, that little girl with braided hair and a toothless smile, disappeared. My chestnut hair is never bound anymore. I leave it long. My freckles on my nose havn't changed a bit.

In the mirror, I see the body of a young girl. A skinny, yet tall young woman that at the first glance, you wouldn't see the power I possess. Everything I am, I owe to my mom. She's the one who told me that beauty really is only skin deep, but what really counts is how you use it. What skills and knowledge you keep hidden. How others perceive you. I was trained to look a certain way. To show off a sweet personality until the moment when I need to show off what they don't see. I train hard and work hard just to prove to myself that I am not to be seen as just a pretty face. That the malice in my dark brown eyes is what I want my opponents to see before they walk away.

I am Kyanite. I am more than meets the eye.