Arianna DePuterkanm
Mar 22, 2014 22:20:55 GMT -5
Post by Arianna on Mar 22, 2014 22:20:55 GMT -5
[Cindy's character] [Fourth Thread] [3/17/12] [Page 1,148] [Post clrp.proboards.com/post/48335/thread ]
Running. It had been.. how long? Less than a week, but why couldn't Arianna remember the number of days? That's probably not a good sign.. She thought to herself. She sits down on a bench by a pond and goes over her life. It helps to focus her sometimes especially in a situation like this. I am Arianna. I don't have a last name, because no one knows my parents. I have been living in roughly 15 foster homes, but it could be more. I am 16, I think. No one knows for sure when I was born. She looks down into the water. Her reflection showed the worried-creased face of a teenage girl who never got to be a child. No one wanted a little orphan girl with weird vibrant purple hair and eyes. No one wanted a girl who seemed to be radiating such intense desperation and long-suffering. If she could provoke such an emotion at age 4, what happens when she's 14 and other regular teens are going through mood swings? Too risky. Who wants to live with a risk? A time bomb with no set time. Is that what she was? Who am I?? No response. Fish swim around, agitated, drawn toward the pale girl with violet eyes and fushia hair tipped with blonde. Squirrels scamper up nearby trees. Dogs of nearby joggers bark at nothing. Arianna's anger rises. 16 years of living with no definate past, present, or future is hard. Not having anyone to hold on to, no constants, is almost worse. Being rejected based on appearance and uncontrollable traits tops the cake which seems to be crumbling apart. She rips the necklace off her neck and throws it into the water. The fish dart away, then come back tentatively to inspect this new shiny thing. The gold locket sinks fast, its chain landing so perfectly around the bold heart that is locked, with no key to be found. The nearby joggers are staring, whispeing. She can't afford the attention. Arianna sighs, the anger is gone leaving only despair. She rolls up her sleeves and fishes the locket out, dries it off with her sweatshirt. The locket is the only thing she has connecting her to her family, wherever they might be, if they're still alive. Just focus on running, Arianna. You're so close to never having to go back to another home again. Don't worry about food right now, or where you'll live. Don't think about family. Run.
Running. It had been.. how long? Less than a week, but why couldn't Arianna remember the number of days? That's probably not a good sign.. She thought to herself. She sits down on a bench by a pond and goes over her life. It helps to focus her sometimes especially in a situation like this. I am Arianna. I don't have a last name, because no one knows my parents. I have been living in roughly 15 foster homes, but it could be more. I am 16, I think. No one knows for sure when I was born. She looks down into the water. Her reflection showed the worried-creased face of a teenage girl who never got to be a child. No one wanted a little orphan girl with weird vibrant purple hair and eyes. No one wanted a girl who seemed to be radiating such intense desperation and long-suffering. If she could provoke such an emotion at age 4, what happens when she's 14 and other regular teens are going through mood swings? Too risky. Who wants to live with a risk? A time bomb with no set time. Is that what she was? Who am I?? No response. Fish swim around, agitated, drawn toward the pale girl with violet eyes and fushia hair tipped with blonde. Squirrels scamper up nearby trees. Dogs of nearby joggers bark at nothing. Arianna's anger rises. 16 years of living with no definate past, present, or future is hard. Not having anyone to hold on to, no constants, is almost worse. Being rejected based on appearance and uncontrollable traits tops the cake which seems to be crumbling apart. She rips the necklace off her neck and throws it into the water. The fish dart away, then come back tentatively to inspect this new shiny thing. The gold locket sinks fast, its chain landing so perfectly around the bold heart that is locked, with no key to be found. The nearby joggers are staring, whispeing. She can't afford the attention. Arianna sighs, the anger is gone leaving only despair. She rolls up her sleeves and fishes the locket out, dries it off with her sweatshirt. The locket is the only thing she has connecting her to her family, wherever they might be, if they're still alive. Just focus on running, Arianna. You're so close to never having to go back to another home again. Don't worry about food right now, or where you'll live. Don't think about family. Run.