Riley Everfield District 4 FINISHED

I stare out at the ocean that surrounds my home, as the sun sets in a blaze of brilliant oranges and peaceful purples. Oh how beautiful it was to watch as the sun seemed to fall below the horizon, almost as if it was crawling under a blanket for a long peaceful sleep. It always made me feel better to watch the sunset before I fell asleep, made me feel calm and secure as the blanket of darkness enveloped the land. Absentmindedly I looked down at my arms that hung so haphazardly out the window, just catching the spray from the waves. Spots of purple were scattered up and down my arm, the visible signs of my abusive parents. The wounds inflicted to me mentally were a different story though, like a jagged knife had been torn through me there were so many scars and wounds that would not heal. As I looked back out upon the expanse of the ocean that surrounded District 4 I felt something tickle the tender skin of my cheek. Reaching up my thin fingers feel something wet touch them...a tear...a single tear.

I found that I cry alot now, when I'm not vainly trying to please my parents that expect so much of me I'm crying. I think they wanted more than me as a child, I used to hear them talking about having another child, one that would make them proud and give the family glory. After all what could someone like me hope to give them, other than the obvious disatisfaction and embarrasment they felt over having me as their daughter. Rising slowly from the window seat that I had been watching the sunset from I walked into the confines of my prison room. My small bed was pressed against the wall opposite the window so I could always look out into the night sky. A little purple rug sat in the middle of the room, several pulls in it gave it the appearance of being frayed and old,, when infact it was new. All of the pacing and worrying I did while I was on that rug had worn it out probably beyond repair. Against the the largest wall in the room sat my vanity table, or as I liked to call it the imperfection, embarrasment mirror.

Walking over to the wall of shame vanity set I looked at the reflection of a thin girl, with bright red hair that seemed to only make her pale complection seem all that more pale. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much effort I put into it I couldn't tan. I would walk out into the sun for only a few hours before wound up looking like a piece of beef jerky or something. The sun and I didn't get along at all in that respect, I'd shrivel up and burn if I spent to much time outdoors. Most people in District 4 could get a tan and go around in their bathing suits and show off their big muscles. Than there was me, the girl you couldn't even pay to get into a bathing suit let alone go to the beaches in one. I didn't like to show that much of my body to the public, it was frightening to me when people began to stare at you. All those eyes, two per a person, staring at you looking at you half naked...it was so embarrasing.

I'm thin, incredibly thin infact for someone who lives in a Career district. No matter how hard I try I can't get myself to have any muscles. Just lifting up one of those heavy swords for training is difficult for me to do, and than they ask you to swing it around like some barbarian, yelling and shouting the whole time. I'd better hope that the old saying "the pen is mightier than the sword" really was true, because I'd be dead if it wasn't. I'll never forget the look on my parent's faces when they were told that I could barely lift the training sword off the ground. There was so much hatred and anger in their faces, and my dad even hit me backhand across the face telling me to put more effort into the training. It's because he wanted a boy, he didn't want some scrawny girl who was scared of her own shadow as a daughter. Yes, it's true, I'm easily frightened, and yes, I have been scared by my shadow during certain instances. It's all derived from my fear of people though, they have never shown any kindness towards me, and nary a word has ever passed between them and I. It's because I'm shy though, I don't like to talk to people, instead I prefer to just talk to myself in the confines of my room.

Since that first day that I could talk it's been that way, my first words were something completely random and incoherent...or so my parents told me. It went on like that for a little while with me making little sense with anything I said, not to mention the stutters every time I felt nervous or afraid. So eventually to save myself the embarrasment of my own stupid language and stutters I just kept my mouth shut. To this day I've barely spoken a sentence to someone, and when I do my face takes on this terrible shade of pink and I feel like my face is heating up. It lasts for so long, I have the time to run and look at my face in the mirror, this long horizontal line of pink ran under one eye, across my nose, and than under the other eye.

Do you have any idea how that looks, this pink stripe on your face...it's embarrasing. All I could do was run into my room, close my eyes, and bury my face into a pillow and cry. That wasn't the right thing to do though, my dad came storming into a room and gave me a sound beating, a spanking I think they call it. He told me that no child of his would blush just from talking to someone. It just made me blush even more though when he told me that, and every time his hand hit me made a deeper shade of red course through my cheeks. His philosophy was the more he yelled at me the more of an impact his words would have on me, like if he yelled enough than it would MAKE me do what he wanted. Outside of that dream world is reality, and in this reality that I lived in all it did was make me cry more...which in turn made him hit me more.

Yeah, it's safe to say that I'm not on the best of terms with my father. It's not much better with my mother, she had at least wanted someone who could be a housekeeper with her. I'm hopeless though, I can't do anything because I'm so uncoordinated. When I work my hands shake so I couldn't hold onto anything, it was absolutely terrible, I broke everything, all the glass pieces my mom loved, I borke them all. When I tried to catch the ones I was dropping I bumped into the table that held all the other ones and knocked them all over. That wasn't so bad right, it could have been worse you say. Apparently at that time that was what my mom thought, she would give me another chance to make up for it. That was a bad mistake though, all I did was tear up the place, break more stuff, and generally make a mess of things. She used a wooden spoon to beat down on me, all on my arms and legs, leaving welts and bruises going up and down them.

Aferwards was my usual responce to it all, that oh so familiar blush forming on my face, and the tears beginning to fall slowly down my cheeks. I controlled my emotions only long enough to reach my room fall into my pillow and cry. You can only guess what that meant, if you guessed dad coming in than you guessed right, and he laid down his own form of hurt on me as usual. That's my life, a life of abuse, sadness, embarrasment, and alot of blushing. Over the years I've sort of hardened, I rarely talk; I save my tears for the privacy of my room when mom and dad fall asleep. That's where I found myself today, watching the sunset, with that one tear sliding slowly down my cheek before I swept it away. I had recieved a bit of news that hadn't gone over well with me, and my mom and dad were forcing me into it. I was told that I had finally found my purpose for them...I would be...forced into a marriage.

I couldn't believe it when I heard it, how I was being forced into a marriage with some boy I didn't even know. I was only sixteen years old, I couldn't get married, I didn't like people, and I especially had no intention of marrying anyone. I made the mistake of telling them that I was never going to marry anyone, I would be just as happy to live out the rest of my days in my room hiding my face in a pillow. If you heard all those warning bells go off than you know how well that went over with my parents. I got the speech about how I was a disappointment to them, how they needed me to be a "big girl" about this. They told me that I needed to do this for THEM, it was all about them, it always was about THEM. What was wrong with them thinking about me for once, what was wrong with my feelings.

That skinny, little girl that was their daughter, Riley Everfield, I had feelings also. That sad little red haired girl with the blush across her cheeks who just wanted to be loved, but was afraid of people. I stuttered when I was embarrased or afraid so talking was out of the question, and I wasn't coordinated enough to do anything else. What could this skinny, redhaired, shy girl do to impress a boy she'd never even me...didn't even want to meet. I could only wonder how much my mom and dad had paid the poor parents of the boy to even get them to set up this marriage. What lies had they told them about me to make me seem more appealing to the opposite sex because as far as I was concerned I was nothing special to look at.