Elliot Galloway | District 2 | Complete

Name: Elliot Galloway
Age: 16
Gender: Female
District/Area: District Two


For 16 years I have walked upon this very soil beneath my feet, for 16 years I have been one amongst hundreds of millions of people who have called this planet home, and for 16 years I have been proud to say that I was a part of the 50% of the population that deemed themself as 'female'. Unfortunately, although I am female, many like to mention that I seem to lack many feminine qualities; height, feminine beauty, and the oh-so-feminine qualities of partaking in the use of vulgar terminology and being reckless.

Standing at a mere 157 centimetres, it is quite visible that I am vertically challenged, not having grown since the age of thirteen, something many liked to remind me of as they cracked 'handing it to short people' jokes, and leant over me to grab something at my height level.

"Bastards, I'd show them 'short'."

Now, for feminine beauty, that is something I cannot deny nor would I ever say anything against it, as I care little for it, what point was there, as it hardly affects my plans for the future. Rough, tanned skin - the third aspect of my physical appearance anyone notices (just after my height), along with slightly too wide hips; unsightly dimples that indented my overly round cheeks - dear lord I look like a overweight child, no, not even a human child, an overweight chipmunk baby with its cheeks filled to the brim with nuts; calloused hands, with chipped and torn nails, and slightly too far apart blue eyes, with cropped bronze hair that fell just above  my ears. 

That wasn't even the topping of the cake - if only. The first thing on the list of physical attributes of mine that was noticed by a passerby wasn't my height, nor was it my too-tanned skin (for a female that is), no it was my eye; singular, as in one. My left eye. Open for the entire world to see, my cataract shone a pale blue hue, accompanied by a distinct scar that ran across the pupil and continued down my cheek and up my brow bone, a reminder of a distant day. That wasn't my only scar, I had multiple more from the same day, littering down my back and across the backs of my thighs, raised in salutation to the bastardly men who decorated my skin with the leather whip.

The day I lost all sight in my left eye, just so happened to be the very same day I found out about my father - no, not my father, my sperm donor. From a young age, I knew that I didn't come from what was deemed the 'typical family' type in District Two - in all actuality, I knew that I didn't come from what was deemed the 'typical family' type in any of the districts. No, unlike all of those in which I once called friends and now allies, I didn't grow up with both a mother and a father, I grew up in a single parent house-hold with my mother and her numerous paramours - lovers. For the majority of my life, that is from when I was first (yes first) born, until I was a few weeks into my twelfth year of life (mere hours from my second birth), I never truly found myself bothered with the concept of never having a father figure at home. Why should I have? I had everything my friends at the time had - if not more, I had much more freedom than any of them, and heck, with all of the boyfriends that my mother brought home, I'd had enough male-influence at home. I was absolutely, completely, irrevocably fine without a father. Or so I liked to pretend.

It had been early afternoon, right after morning classes had come to an end, and the rays of the sun began to bear down upon District Two from the centre most point of the sky, that I was confronted by a fellow student - Cassiopeia (whom I had no prior relations with), and her father as they exited the building. Confused at their intentions to communicate with me, I had simply stared up at them (yes up, mind my height) as they (mainly her father as she stood by, hands posed triumphantly upon her hips, huge pig nose raised so high in the air I actually feared she may fall backwards due to the weight) relayed crude jokes about my 'bastard' title and how my mother was a whore and deserved to be raped by the Peace Keepers again, if not, only to produce a better looking child. 'Again?', I had asked, tears forming in my confusion filled eyes. What were these two saying to me? 'Again', her father had repeated, a sneer covering his haughty face, as he leant down and his coffee filled breath blew into my face. I didn't understand why they were saying these things, what had I done to them to deserve such things? Nothing. But yet, even though I knew, I knew, that Peace Keepers weren't permitted to have children, I didn't question them (on the words they spoke, nor of their knowledge of it), I accepted them for what they were, and left - towards the Peace Keepers' building, anger bubbling at the surface, mere moments away from bursting.

The events that had occurred that afternoon were kept silent, kept secret from the public. No Peace Keeper wanted the residents of the mighty District Two to know that a weak twelve year old girl had been able to sneak into their quarters and attack one of their people unguarded, actually getting a few hits in, and breaking his little finger. Nor would they like to mention that a swift hit with a baton to the eye had split the skin so crudely and blinded me. No, that wasn't something they would allow out. In return for that surprise, I had been publically ridiculed under the facade that my mother had stolen something (I do believe they said it was a pen, a PEN) from her job, and that they didn't believe she would learn should they punish her, so they punished me in her stead. 100 lashes.

Recovering from the bloody lashings wasn't something I truly gave any thought too, nor was allowing my eye to heal safely and in a proper manner. No, those were two things that barely crossed my mind after that fiasco. That day I had been reborn, no longer was I the childish, naive girl who believed that she lived the perfect life, and was content with her situation. From that moment on, I saw evil that exuded from the Peace Keepers, I saw the weakness that girls were brought to believe were 'feminine qualities', I saw life for what it is, and I relished in it. From that day forward, I didn't allow myself to fall to the hands of the Peace Keepers every again, I worked my way through rigorous training, fought my way to prove myself, and dear lord, I made a stance against femininity, without meaning to.

Code Word: oDair