Russia de Villiers//d4//wip

Russia de Villiers//d4//wip Jun 10, 2014 11:53:35 GMT -5

Post by d11a tsiuri dermott ☕ minie on Jun 10, 2014 11:53:35 GMT -5

( N A M E) R U S S I A D E V I L L I E R S
(A G E) S I X T E E N
(G E N D E R) F E M A L E
(D I S T R I C T) F O U R

(A P P E A R E N C E )

stand in front of the long narrow mirror in my bedroom. My mother’s hands are in my hair putting it up in a bun. My thin hair is broken at the edge and my mother scowls at me telling me to take better care of it or someday I won’t be able to find someone to marry me, because my hair is ugly. She holds up a piece of my black hair and sticks it right in front of my brown eyes. She doesn’t seem pleased with what she is seeing from me and believes that de Villiers girls should take much better care of themselves. Of course she had to bring up my sister Atlanta as an example. Atlanta is perfect, but of course I am a mess in comparison. Atlanta sits straight when my mom does her hair, I sit all hunched. Mom say that I will get a bad back from that. I have to unfold my legs, because if I cross them it will stop the blood or something like that. I lost interest a long time ago.

My mom finishes the bun, it is filled with curls and twist. It almost looks like a rollercoaster. I can imagine myself flying upon it. For a moment I let a quick smile slip, one you barley notices. Clio says my smile makes the whole world turn around. Clio is my best friend, she is always been there for me, and…..A hand slaps my face and brings me back to reality. I look up at my mom who just hit me. Words came out of her mouth, words full of hate and words that I heard many times before. “Don’t smile Russia, smiling is for the weak, emotions are for the weak, are you weak?” The question haunts me in my nightmares all the time. It lingers over me, as I examine my own weak, skinny body. I am just skin and bones as aunt Carla always says. She always held up my twig like arms up and scolded mom for never feeding me, but she does feed me, and I do eat a lot. My body just never gets fat.

Mom turned the chair around I was sitting on, and scand me. As always her eyes showed no signe of emotion, except the coldness. I was so happy that I came more after my dad, that I got his warm eyes, his beautiful smile. Not Atlanta who got my mom's icy blue eyes and stern look. "Stand up straight you worthless thing". Before I was leaned to my left side. I rolled my eyes and stood up straight and folded my arms acrosse my chest. All my mom every did was insult me. Insult my postiere, the way I walk, and the way I talk. For her it was all wrong, I needed to have a straight back and chin up. I hate the way she tells me to walk, and that I have to put loads of make-up on to cover up the many freckles that covers my skin.

( P E R S O N A L T Y )

I don’t remember much, actually I don’t remember at all. I woke up one day, I think it was a year ago, and I didn’t know anything. The women who was in the kitchen when I came down that day, told me I was her daughter. She explained me lots of things, but she told me if anyone asks, my name is Russia, and no I did not lose any of my memories. I learned to live with my parents feeding me stories of my past, but it didn’t feel like my own. I hated being told what I have to do, and who I have to be. I am a free will, and I am now trapped. My parents want a perfect daughter, they are a perfect family, and with my memory loss I messed that up for them, and now they were doing anything they can to hold me back. I am not perfect, and I don’t want to be perfect. I have my flaws, but my parents refuse to see that.