Jeune Ely-Nevis, D9, FIN

Name: Jeune Ely-Nevis 

You can call me anything but attractive. I could have been nice and sweet, with a plenty of blonde locks falling on my shoulders. My light green eyes and an accurate nose could even make me look cute. No one would even notice, how awfully messy my hair is at times, or pay any attention to a few pimples I have. I'm rather slim and tall, but not too tall for a girl of my age. I think I look a lot like my father, and I'm proud of my appearance.

However, I have something in me that pushes everybody away. It's my gloomy and sarcastic stare, which takes over my face sometimes and is certainly not anywhere near pleasant. My family members are the only ones who manage to endure it. Even they say, however, that this look makes me older. I indeed have a few small wrinkles on my forehead which become much more distinct when I am angry or disappointed.

Personality:

"Johnny, John, June... Nobody ever could remember my name. But I think I'm okay with being called "John". It doesn't sound girly and sweet, at least, and it doesn't sound too exotic. Many people I know think it's short from "Johanna" or "Joanne". I don't even mind being "Jo", if you call me that. Dad didn't like anyone saying my name wrong, but who cares about it now? He's not here anymore.

And the boy names really suit me more than any others. I fight, I spit on the ground. I'm a tomboy, who doesn't care about things like reputation, popularity and beauty. Somebody in our family has to be tough, if dad left. Someone has to be a man. Why not me?

No one in our family likes it, and my elder sister, Kerra, practically hates it. She says there's no need for me to act like a bandit, she thinks I should make some friends and learn to behave myself. Our mother remains neutral, but I can see she's disappointed in me, too. Like I care what everybody thinks. Only Muse, my little sister, isn't very opposed to my manners, because I fought a couple of guys who tried to bully her, when she was five. She thinks me brave and generous despite everything I do and say.

History:

***

-"Daddy, daddy, please, don't go! Why are you leaving? Don't you love us anymore?"

-"You are too little, you won't understand, but I have to go... Trust me... I love you, darling... Don't cry..."

I remember the night he went away, the night when I saw him coming out of the back door. The moonlight was light and miraculous, soft and silvery. He creeped out and stood there for a while, looking back desperately. Then he turned away and disappeared in the shadows. That's how I lost my father for good.

A few days later our neighbour's son started teasing me. I can still recall him shouting: "You freak! Your father is a criminal!" A couple of his mates joined in the fun. They called me names and threw mud at me. So I beat them up, and his father told my mother about that... It doesn't matter, anyway. No one ever teased me again, but I also couldn't make any friends, all the kids in our street were afraid of me.

I never saw my father again, and didn't hear anyone in the family talk about him either. I knew he was there, behind the fence, but how could it help me if I couldn't go looking for him? I don't know, why he went away, why he left us. What was he hoping to find there? Peace, freedom, happiness? He wouldn't enjoy it without us, anyway. 

I've been running around the district often since he was gone. I was wandering around, searching for any sign of dad, but he wasn't there. I didn't shout, because I was afraid someone could hear me, but I really wanted to. I wish he could return, I wish everything could be brilliant again, like it was ten years ago. But life will never be the same, and I will never have a father.

Other: