^Kennedy^Fell^D10 {DONE)

^KENNEDY^BERTHA^FELL^

The boys think I am blind to their lustful gazes or wishful glances. They think I am deaf to the low whistles and quiet cat calls. The girls act like I am blind to their envious daggers or hateful stares. They think I am deaf to their cruel rumors and nasty stories. But in fact, my eyes and ears work just as well as anyone else, and I can hear and see these people, and I can still feel the hurt that they bring.

I was born to a rich little family in District 10. We made our money off of the meat packing industry where my father work. I never asked to be made out to be this silly little girl with her yellow hair tied up in big pink ribbons that the others would never be able to afford. I was simply born into this role, told to enjoy it and be grateful. My older brother and I spent our time taking joy from the various activities such as riding in a car and shopping for candy. I would love to eat these gigantic lolly pops that would host all the colors of the rainbow. I never noticed the disgusting stares of men because my mother protected me so dearly.

See, it was clear from a very young age that I was going to be a beauty. From my little nose to big blue eyes, I was a "little bundle of perfection"... it disgusts me that people describe me as that, because I am far from perfection. Never the less the boys and men began to notice the little rich girl when I hit the dreaded wall that is puberty. My body grew in all the right area for the girl of mens dreams. I first noticed the way they stared in my 12th year. At my first reaping a boy gave me a coy smiled as he wished me luck, then shoved his face towards mine and kissed me with his chapped lips. It was repulsive, it was uncalled fall, and it was my wake up call.

I liked to spend my days with the one boy who never made eyes at me. My brother, Garrett, is 6 years older than me and he never lets me forget it. We would always play his games because "I'm older" as he would say. But I didn't mind, because he was nice enough. He let me hang out with him even though he was 14 and I was 8. He really cared about me and explained the dangers of the world, warning me about the people who would try to hurt me. As the years went on, he began to explore his interest in girls and was quickly swept of the market by a nice enough woman. I never liked her, she took away the one man who was nice, and turned him into a submissive husband. I now long for the days I had my brother, who never hurt me, who had soft words for me, who had my back.

Am I who I think I am?
Am I who I think I am?
Look out my window and see it's gone wrong
Court is in session and I slam my gavel down

There was no more ignoring the issue, my mother sat me down and told me that boys would be taking a lot more interest in me, and I had to avoid leading them on. She made it clear that I was not to have a boyfriend until i could handle it. At first it was fun, looking at all the different boys goggle and drool at me; I would laugh whenever one of them fell over their own two feet. As I grew older I began to wonder when it would stop, when would the boys finally get over me, move on with their lives. But they just got worse, grabbing ass and making more and more repulsive comments. Once, as I made my way across the square a hand pinched my butt and when I turned around to see who it was it was an old man. Disgusted I ran away, hiding my face.

By 16 I was ready for it to stop. These disgusting men and boys were still there, always ready to grab me. I began to hate this body that people called perfection. These breasts that bulged out to far, and butt that was too round. I wanted them gone. I wanted to be normal, just to not have to deal with the hoots and glares. I wanted to be anyone but me. I was done with beauty. But what could I possibly do? So I began to wear unflattering dresses, refuse makeup, and be as plain as possible. The hoots were still there, mainly from the boys, but at least the old men were no longer interested. I kept my body hidden beneath the heavy cloth where no one could hurt me.

I would stop and stare at myself in the mirror, looking for the flaws, trying to find something unattractive. My forehead is large, my teeth are crooked, and there is the constant threat of pimples making their way to the skin. My body has a few pounds of fat from the childhood sweets, and my feet are unnaturally big. There are also the scars on my wrists. But no one seems to notice these things, they only see what they want to see.

I'm judge and I'm jury and I'm executioner too
Projector, Protector, Rejector, Infector, Projector
Infrector, Injector, Defector, Rejector

On my seventeenth birthday my family had a small gathering of family friends. Among the crowd was a boy my age, with dark brown eyes and rich brown hair, he was handsome and treated me with respect, something so rare in my personal experience. His name was Andrew, his words were kind, and his smile could light up the room. We spent hours together discussing our ideas and families, then he took my hand and led me to my bed. With soft kisses he broke down my walls, and with gentle hands he set me free. I was so happy to just lay with him, but he began to push for more. I didn't return the favor. Anger grow within his eyes as he grabbed his clothes and stormed out. Sorrow grow within me as I realized I pushed out the first nice guy I ever met.

But at schools the whispers grow worse, this time coming from everyone. The glances from the guys more lustful then ever and from the girls filled with hate and pity. The rumor had been passed from one to another quicker than a wild fire and I was the center of attention once again. When I met Andrew's eyes he looked away as he friend pat him on the back. I could see he was sorry, but the deed was done, and I was made into the slut I wasn't. There was no stopping the onslaught of remarks and touches, no more stopping these things from happening. I was no more than eye candy to the boys, and they treated me like it. The guys made advances while the girls pushed me out, leaving me alone and afraid.

There is a quiet place that I like to retreat to, a small shack near the edge of the district. I spend most of the free time there, sitting inside those quiet walls. I sketch my feelings on these tiny red notepads, each taking a different form depending on the day. They range from the first rays of sunshine in the morning to the dark eyes of the dead man. I often draw my niece, my brother's daughter who is just one. She has these bright blue eyes that I can never get right. Some people say that they look exactly like mine, but I know they are different. Her eyes are full of life, while mine reflect the darkness of my soul.

I am done, having just turned 18 I have given up. I spend day after day going to school then retreating before anyone can notice me. The men are always present, but they do not notice the scars on my arms. They focus on what they want to see I guess. My mind goes onto these loops where I have to tell myself not to break down. But sometimes the loneliness gets too much to bear, and I attempt to reach out to no avail.

My beauty is my curse, and although I struggle to cope with it, I know that someday I will turn old and plain. Until then I must deal with it.

I see my reflection in the window
This window clean inside, dirty on the out
I'm looking different than me
This house is clean baby
This house is clean

FC: Brooklyn Decker (lol)
Song: Dirty Window- Metallica
Code word: Odair
Comments: this is... *sigh*