Post by katniss smithie. on Sept 13, 2011 21:01:30 GMT -5
katniss smithie.
NINETEEN. FEMALE. GIFTED. HETEROSEXUAL.
Let's see... Where do I begin? Well, my power is basically sensing other's emotions. I love my power truthfully. I can read any guy's emotion without having to worry about him knowing it. I can easily see if my teacher has given me a bad grade because something personal or because I just fail.
What else do I have to say? Well, I am perfectly straight. I do not feel any sexual attraction to people of my same sex. I love guys. Every time I am around one my voice and my actions change into a flirty style. Whether its cornering the boy against a wall or twiddling my hair around my finger, I'll be flirting. A lot of guys like me back. I don't really know why... Maybe its my spunky and out going personality? My light country twang on my a's? I'm not really sure.
I am tall, six foot. My lengthy brown hair falls in curls down my back. Blond streaks begin to appear the lower down you look. My skin is very pale during winter, perfectly toned in autumn and spring, and very tan in summer. Usually I'll be wearing comfy clothes. I don't know why but I love wearing spandex. I'm really weird if you can't tell already.
My family? Screwed up... Let's see. My mom is an abuser, hitting me with hot frying pans every once in a while if I forget to scrub the dishes until my fingers bleed. My brother is a government owned guinea pig. He's like me: "special". My dad has been to jail seven times. He is still currently in the big house. Yeah, um... He kinda stabbed my little sister. Don't worry! She's fine. Well, she's in a better place anyway. Yeah, my family isn't the best. Basically, I raised my brother when he was little. My mom ignored him and my dad was.... You get the point! You may ask why don't we just move to my grandparents house. We can't because they have about eleven houses and travel to each of them every other week. You may think that sounds fun, but it wouldn't be. My grandpa almost always has jet-lag. So basically, I live on the run, attempting to take care of myself. Did I mention that I'm very thin yet muscular? Well, living on the run has brought me to this state.
Now to my personality... People at school call me "special". Just like my brother and I literally are. I am spazzy, spunky, and out going (as I said before). I am rarely quiet and when I am, you know I'm sick. I hate sitting still. Uh, I am not the best with school. I've been suspended twice. Nothing major. The first time I cussed about twenty times at the teacher's face. Oopsies! The second time I accidently set my science project on fire.
My life story next, eh? Well you have the "living on the run part". But I guess I'll give a little more effort into it. Here's my story. Don't stop me once I stop because I won't. If tears are running down my face, and I am screaming the depressing tale, don't shove me to the ground. I won't budge until I have it over and done with. The pain I relive every time I say this story may make me sad, but if makes myself better. It makes me, well... Me. So here it is. Don't interupt or plead. Just listening closely.
I wake to the shining rays of sun shining into my bedroom. I shift to my side, staring at my sister as she lay there, sound asleep. My mouth cracks into a smile, something that rarely appears during this sorrowful time. Why was it sorrowful? A ton of people ask. My father was recently sent to prison. I am only twelve you see. It is very hard to take care of my little brother, my even littler sister, and myself at this age. I can barely salvage enough food for myself. I give all the other food to my mother. My mother? Yes. I have a mother. And an abusive one at that. She hits me with hot frying pans at times. My little siblings, I can protect. I usually jump in the way. I go to bed wailing for the burning pain to stop; it never does. Anyway, I lay in bed listening to the soft breaths of my little sister, Rose. My brother, Andy, stirs at the other side of our 5 by 5 foot room. I turn to him, my hair falling upon my face. He rubs his eyes. He is eleven, almost twelve. We were born in the same year. I don't know how, and I am afraid to ask. I believe he has another mother.... I slid out of bed and onto the creaky wood floor. "Good morning." I whisper to him, as I make my way to his bed. He glares. "No." He says. I stare, surprised by his answer. He is usually so happy! "What?" I ask through my light country accent. "No." Andy said seriously. "Why? Why no, Andy?" He gave me a look saying `why not`. "Did mother hit you?" He turned his face away. His right eye was normal looking to me. Wait, no. I let my vision adjust to the obnoxiously bright lighting. A deep looking cut sliced across his eye like a crecent moon. I gasp, putting my hand up to my lips. I ran to him, landing on his bed beside him. I place my index finger to his temple where it looked deepest. He winces without me even touching it. "Mom did this to you?!" I exclaim. "She knifed me." Andy says softly. "I just asked her for water. She was watching the news. She turned, a dagger held to her chest. Tears were running down her face. But then, she jumped me. The knife slid across my face before she knew what she was doing. I didn't scream. I just waited for my death. She stopped then, the dagger still in my temple. Her grip on me lestened and she hopped off. The dagger plummeted to the floor. She just watched me after that. She watched as tears from my eye that was still alright bounce against my cheek. She watched me bleed." His voice turns into a growl. "She watched my pain." He claws at my skin. "She watched me---!" "Stop!" I shout. I push him from me. He lands in an angry heap on the floor with a crash. I look to my chest. Deep groves are there, blood trickling from them. I glance down at Andy to see iron claws instead of finger nails. I thought I would gasp, but I couldn't. The air is caught in my throat. "Andy?" I ask. "Wha---what is wrong with me?!" He screams, waking my sister. Rose sits upright very quickly. She screams, beginning to bawl at the horrid sight. My blood lay on the floor, across my chest, and along the long iron nails of my brother. My own brother... I clutch her to me, hugging her tight. Andy runs to me to appologize. I scream at him, "No! Don't touch me!" But he does anyway. I push Rose to the bed. I turn to Andy and shove him to the ground. My fist flies into his stomach. "GET AWAY!" I scream with fright. He crawls into a corner, growls coming from his throat. I see him, just for a moment have a look of sorrow, but it is soon replaced with rage. He leaps, landing on my chest. I fall. I remember hearing a crack as my head hit the small bedside desk. After that I hear a soft voice. It's not mine but it is from my own mind. `I am sorry, Katniss' It is Andy's voice. Then the world fades to black....
I hate that day. I always will. After that, I woke up in a hospital. I learned that my brother was gone; he was sent to a lab. I didn't ever tell anyone that I could read his mind; that I could feel his real emotion. I probably never will. Rose knows. My mother doesn't. My father however does. He is like Andy and I. He has the ability to shoot fire from his hand! Pretty cool huh?
Is my time up already? I sure do hope so. I'm running out of things to say.... Hope you enjoyed this little interview. Love you guys! <3
What else do I have to say? Well, I am perfectly straight. I do not feel any sexual attraction to people of my same sex. I love guys. Every time I am around one my voice and my actions change into a flirty style. Whether its cornering the boy against a wall or twiddling my hair around my finger, I'll be flirting. A lot of guys like me back. I don't really know why... Maybe its my spunky and out going personality? My light country twang on my a's? I'm not really sure.
I am tall, six foot. My lengthy brown hair falls in curls down my back. Blond streaks begin to appear the lower down you look. My skin is very pale during winter, perfectly toned in autumn and spring, and very tan in summer. Usually I'll be wearing comfy clothes. I don't know why but I love wearing spandex. I'm really weird if you can't tell already.
My family? Screwed up... Let's see. My mom is an abuser, hitting me with hot frying pans every once in a while if I forget to scrub the dishes until my fingers bleed. My brother is a government owned guinea pig. He's like me: "special". My dad has been to jail seven times. He is still currently in the big house. Yeah, um... He kinda stabbed my little sister. Don't worry! She's fine. Well, she's in a better place anyway. Yeah, my family isn't the best. Basically, I raised my brother when he was little. My mom ignored him and my dad was.... You get the point! You may ask why don't we just move to my grandparents house. We can't because they have about eleven houses and travel to each of them every other week. You may think that sounds fun, but it wouldn't be. My grandpa almost always has jet-lag. So basically, I live on the run, attempting to take care of myself. Did I mention that I'm very thin yet muscular? Well, living on the run has brought me to this state.
Now to my personality... People at school call me "special". Just like my brother and I literally are. I am spazzy, spunky, and out going (as I said before). I am rarely quiet and when I am, you know I'm sick. I hate sitting still. Uh, I am not the best with school. I've been suspended twice. Nothing major. The first time I cussed about twenty times at the teacher's face. Oopsies! The second time I accidently set my science project on fire.
My life story next, eh? Well you have the "living on the run part". But I guess I'll give a little more effort into it. Here's my story. Don't stop me once I stop because I won't. If tears are running down my face, and I am screaming the depressing tale, don't shove me to the ground. I won't budge until I have it over and done with. The pain I relive every time I say this story may make me sad, but if makes myself better. It makes me, well... Me. So here it is. Don't interupt or plead. Just listening closely.
I wake to the shining rays of sun shining into my bedroom. I shift to my side, staring at my sister as she lay there, sound asleep. My mouth cracks into a smile, something that rarely appears during this sorrowful time. Why was it sorrowful? A ton of people ask. My father was recently sent to prison. I am only twelve you see. It is very hard to take care of my little brother, my even littler sister, and myself at this age. I can barely salvage enough food for myself. I give all the other food to my mother. My mother? Yes. I have a mother. And an abusive one at that. She hits me with hot frying pans at times. My little siblings, I can protect. I usually jump in the way. I go to bed wailing for the burning pain to stop; it never does. Anyway, I lay in bed listening to the soft breaths of my little sister, Rose. My brother, Andy, stirs at the other side of our 5 by 5 foot room. I turn to him, my hair falling upon my face. He rubs his eyes. He is eleven, almost twelve. We were born in the same year. I don't know how, and I am afraid to ask. I believe he has another mother.... I slid out of bed and onto the creaky wood floor. "Good morning." I whisper to him, as I make my way to his bed. He glares. "No." He says. I stare, surprised by his answer. He is usually so happy! "What?" I ask through my light country accent. "No." Andy said seriously. "Why? Why no, Andy?" He gave me a look saying `why not`. "Did mother hit you?" He turned his face away. His right eye was normal looking to me. Wait, no. I let my vision adjust to the obnoxiously bright lighting. A deep looking cut sliced across his eye like a crecent moon. I gasp, putting my hand up to my lips. I ran to him, landing on his bed beside him. I place my index finger to his temple where it looked deepest. He winces without me even touching it. "Mom did this to you?!" I exclaim. "She knifed me." Andy says softly. "I just asked her for water. She was watching the news. She turned, a dagger held to her chest. Tears were running down her face. But then, she jumped me. The knife slid across my face before she knew what she was doing. I didn't scream. I just waited for my death. She stopped then, the dagger still in my temple. Her grip on me lestened and she hopped off. The dagger plummeted to the floor. She just watched me after that. She watched as tears from my eye that was still alright bounce against my cheek. She watched me bleed." His voice turns into a growl. "She watched my pain." He claws at my skin. "She watched me---!" "Stop!" I shout. I push him from me. He lands in an angry heap on the floor with a crash. I look to my chest. Deep groves are there, blood trickling from them. I glance down at Andy to see iron claws instead of finger nails. I thought I would gasp, but I couldn't. The air is caught in my throat. "Andy?" I ask. "Wha---what is wrong with me?!" He screams, waking my sister. Rose sits upright very quickly. She screams, beginning to bawl at the horrid sight. My blood lay on the floor, across my chest, and along the long iron nails of my brother. My own brother... I clutch her to me, hugging her tight. Andy runs to me to appologize. I scream at him, "No! Don't touch me!" But he does anyway. I push Rose to the bed. I turn to Andy and shove him to the ground. My fist flies into his stomach. "GET AWAY!" I scream with fright. He crawls into a corner, growls coming from his throat. I see him, just for a moment have a look of sorrow, but it is soon replaced with rage. He leaps, landing on my chest. I fall. I remember hearing a crack as my head hit the small bedside desk. After that I hear a soft voice. It's not mine but it is from my own mind. `I am sorry, Katniss' It is Andy's voice. Then the world fades to black....
I hate that day. I always will. After that, I woke up in a hospital. I learned that my brother was gone; he was sent to a lab. I didn't ever tell anyone that I could read his mind; that I could feel his real emotion. I probably never will. Rose knows. My mother doesn't. My father however does. He is like Andy and I. He has the ability to shoot fire from his hand! Pretty cool huh?
Is my time up already? I sure do hope so. I'm running out of things to say.... Hope you enjoyed this little interview. Love you guys! <3
