Chaos O'Hana {D4}

Name: Chaos O'Hana
Age: Eighteen
District: Four
Height: 5’3
BMI: Skinny

Mother: Isabella
Father: Carson
Twin Sister: Tempest
Baby Brothers: Lightning & Storm {15}

Appearance:
Assumption, damn how I hate them. Such as how everyone assumes that I’m self conscious for changing in a shower-stall, instead of out in the girl’s locker-room of the Career Gym where many eyes are roaming, judging. Must mean I’m a stuck-up pretty girl that calls my self ugly for attention; simply because my bones protrude out as much as all the skinny girls in the district, it has to mean I know I’m as flattering as them. How funny that it’s those very Pretty Girls that create these expectations.

Don’t get me wrong, some days I can be as cocky as the beautiful Preps. Then other times I gaze in the mirror to see a twelve-year-old boy. I can’t stand those glares when I’m getting undressed around other females; their expressions convinced that I’m flirtatiously staring at them inappropriately. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s those very believes that make me skeptical about myself, along with the disgust in their eyes and tone when they think that I’m attracted to them. Even if someone were to catch my attention, it certainly wouldn’t be one of them.






Personality:
The Career Gym is where I feel I most belong though. Even if I fail to connect with a single person here, it’s my place within this District. It’s the one location where I can keep my head held high…for the exception of the locker-room. My former, and only, Trainer instilled in me to always remain strong, even if I’m not. And I’ll never disappoint her by losing that. All 5’3 of me owns these grounds, and I refuse to let myself or anyone else think otherwise.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a coward while somewhere aside from the Gym. Let’s say for instances, my usual ending to a training routine. I’m the one child out of four that was lucky enough to take after the Parents. When my Instructor left, I followed down the road of alcoholic beverages and smoking. I still avoid the adults I’m becoming, and refrain myself from the siblings I could badly influence. It’s just that all concerns vanish while consumed by the substances that are said to be so wrong. I’m capable of actually being myself and socializing, even if I can’t always recall everything the next day. Guess I can understand why our parents do it.

Wasn’t always this way. I used to be as nurturing and maternal as my twin sister Tempest. We cared for our baby brothers far better then our parents ever could, and for a while everything was great between only the four of us. Then I just couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t, and still don’t, want to teach my ways to them, as our parents did to me. My presence remains distant, though my eyes and protection will always stay on them.






History:
How do I explain the way all of us siblings are Careers? It’s not like our Parents are prime examples. For a bit they kept to staying away, allowed Tempest and I to raise the boys and keep the house together. Sort of wish that never ended; but like everything in life, it did. Both our parents forced training on us older Twins when we were nine, and the boys were shortly next.

The first five years of training were surprisingly amazing for me. I was paired with a phenomenal Instructor; and though she was young and failed to get into the Games, I bet she would of came back a Victor if she had gotten in. She took me under her wing, and taught everything she knew. Training and learning from her erased every worry from school and home. The only thing that mattered was becoming strong and tactical…a good example for my siblings. Until one day she was unexpectedly transferred to another Gym, to train Careers with more potential then I’ve got. My need for distractions has only increased since then.

Of course I haven’t stopped training for a day these past four years. If anything I just train even harder. School couldn’t mean less to me. I’m trapped in the routine of training and partying, while my sibling’s voices are stuck in the back of my mind. Parents hypocritically lecture me to get it together. My siblings plead with me to be better. And my Instructor tells me to strive for more. Yet the only thing I do, is take another sip of my drink.