Terra Greenslade | District Six {FIN}

[kap]

Terra Greenslade
Female | Fifteen

You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams

My father was once a kind, gentle man. No one thought he would ever do anything so wrong. No one thought he would ever do something so cruel. No one thought he would become a murderer. He said he did it to protect my mother. I'm not sure if I believe him, as it seems like the killing was in cold blood. He murdered someone, and I can never forgive him for it, despite him having been punished. He's an avox now, but I'm not sure that that's enough.

I haven't seen my father in two years, and it's changed my life for the worse. I've become a violent individual myself, now. It's like his terrible acts have bled into me since he left. Fights and other violent acts are things I'm often involved in. I've spent time in the detention center, and I won't be surprised if they try to send me back someday. I don't, however, enjoy being violent. I hate it, but for some reason it's become who I am. I'm not social anymore, and I yell all too much according to my mother. I love my mother dearly, though, and can't imagine what she's going through between her husband becoming a killer and her daughter changing so much.

In the past, I was kind. I was gentle. I was seen as a sweetheart. That has all changed, though. I feel that if I were put into the Hunger Games, I would slowly spiral into insanity more than I already am. I wouldn't be surprised if I'd enjoy the killing when it had to be done. I'm not like my father, though. I don't do what I'm not supposed to. I'd never murder someone if I didn't have to. If I were in the Games, though, I'd have to, in order to survive. I wouldn't allow my mother to have her daughter leave her, too.

I look too much like my father for my own liking. We have the same brown hair and the same green eyes, with mine only being slightly darker. Although I have a much more petite structure than anyone else in my family, my father is still the one person I resemble the most, appearance-wise. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that I'm starting to resemble him in personality, too. I just dearly hope that my mother and brothers won't begin to change after what happened. I'm more nervous about the older of the two boys, though, since the youngest, Harry, is only two, and didn't really know what happened with my father. I'm sure, however, that he will know when he's older. I just hope to shelter him from receiving that knowledge for as long as I possibly can.

My skinny body is covered in scars and bruises from the fights I've gotten into, and they never seem to go away. It's hard to find non-violent hobbies for myself. I do, however, enjoy things such as reading, writing, and drawing. I've been told by my mother that my artwork is beautiful, although I'm not sure if I believe her. I love my mother too dearly to tell her otherwise, though. She's always been there for me, especially when I wanted to run off and live in the woods after my father left, just to get away from everything. She helped me see why I should stay home, and I have ever since.

I'm much more of a loner than I used to be. Ever since my father committed his crime two years ago, I've started to hide myself away from people. I have trouble making new friends, even if I do try on occasion, because I often scare them off by accident. There are a few friends who have stuck with my through it all, and helped me try to recover. I'm truly grateful for those people, and I hope that I'll have them with me forever. Although, unlike most of them, I don't fear the Hunger Games.

Personally, I feel that if I were to end up in the Games, it would help me see who I really was. Am I like my cruel father? Am I like my innocent siblings? Am I broken, like my mother? Someday, I hope to find out, whether or not that means going into the Games. I just want to discover who I really am.

In all reality, I never do want to see my father again. When he left, he told us how he didn't regret what he did, and certainly didn't spare us the gruesome details of exactly what he did. His story still shows up in my nightmares these days. Maybe someday, those memories will be gone. I certainly hope so.

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

[sbeeg]

Accepted!