Athene Opaloid-D3

Appearance: I have short blonde hair. I cut it like this because I am afraid someone will yank it out if it is to long. My eyes are a dark brown but I don't show them because I am afraid someone will gauge them out. My lips are a pale shade of pink but I hide them with my hair because I'm afraid someone will peel them off like a stick off paper. I have thin arms that I hide behind my back in fear of someone pulling them out of their sockets. I have a necklace that is always around my neck, but I don't let it show because I am scared someone will take it from me. It is the only thing I have left of my parents.

I have a pale white scar that runs down a small portion of my leg leg. I was told I was cut as a baby by my father in a drunken rage. I don't know much about my parents but that is one of the only things I do know. My father was a drunk. I am a short five feet and two inches. I am scared someone will squash me like a bug. My face is a pale shade of white and is dotted with pimples up around my forehead which I try to hide with my hair. My nose to me looks squat and fat like a tomato. My legs are short like my arms and really splotchy. I don't think i'll ever be beautiful.

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Personality: Mrs. La'Vie says I'm just shy. She says I'm really smart and pretty but I don't believe her. If I was smart why would no school want me. If I was pretty and kind why would have all the homes I've been in five me up and put me back in the system. Mrs. La'Vie says I need to overcome my Anthropophobia and start talking to people. I'm not entirely sure what it means but I think it means I'm scared of people. Mrs. La'Vie acts really nice and all but I think she's just hiding her true self that will attack me the moment I let my guard down.

Normally all day I sit in a corner of the room I share with a another girl who is younger than me. I try to stay as still and as quiet as possible to not attract any attention. If someone does come u to me I tell them to go away or to leave me alone. They either tell me to stop being shy, a jerk, or a scaredy cat. I'd then turn and look them right in the eye angrilly because I can get pretty angry at some times and say to them, "I'm glad I'm a cat then because their a lot cuter and skater than you."

That's just most of the time though. On the rare occasions I come out of my hiding spot I try to make intelligent conversation. It never works though. I can't ever seem to get my ideas out of my mouth. I don't think I've had enough practice. I end up muttering, "Um" a lot. Then I retreat back to my safe place where I tinker with little toys I found scattered around the house trying to make them into something new which I can use in the near future. Maybe I will be a toymaker when I grow up and I will have a whole house to myself and I can hire people to do the talking for me. Yeah, that's what I think I'll do.

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History: Tossed from foster home to foster home. My parents didn't want me. I don't know them. All that is left of them is a white scar that runs down the upper half of my leg. I have heard from those who knew my father that he was in a drunken rage when it happened. So I at least know I come from a drunken father. When I was one my parents gave me up for adoption and I went to my first foster home. It soon became appearing there I was different from the other kids. I was shy and tried to stay out of the way from everyone unlike all the other curious children. In my second home there was a bully named Tristen. He inspired my fear of people to become greater by going me every day.

I am scared someone will be like him.

My third home was where I made my first and only friend. Her name was Toyota. She was sweet and kind and lured me out of my shell. She was soon adopted by a wealthy car maker and was well off. I think she forgot about me as all the other foster home owners had when they tossed me off to the next home. I only saw her in a scene of the reaping from the 68th games when one of her new siblings was reaped and remembered her then after such a long time.

My fourth home was awful. It had awful conditions and all the kids there were rude, obnoxious, and loud. It's weird how Panem has so many regulations but most of the foster homes I've been in don't fit many. The food was garbage and the house was falling apart. The owner of that foster home passed me along because he didn't like the fact that I tried fixing a few things up in the few moments I was out of my shell.

My fifth home's owner was a drunk who hit all the kids.

My sixth home was actually kind of nice but the owner said she couldn't take care of me because I wouldn't come down to eat. She could have just brought food up to me. I would have been fine with eating alone.

And now I'm here. My 7th home. I'm sure I'm going to be passed along soon enough. Mrs. La'Vie is pretending to be nice and everything but I'm sure she's awful like everyone else in this world. The house is nice so far but in sure there is a dungeon below it. From all that I have learned in my life I know everything will just get worse, and worse, and worse. They call this home "Prism's Home for Wanted Children." Wanted. Hah. If I was wanted I wouldn't be here. If I was wanted I would be in the capitol in a penthouse with adoring parents.

I just wish that my life was better.

I wish someone actually wanted me.