Monica Wynd

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Monica Wynd's Information
Name: Monica Reed (Wynd, although born with this last name. She does not go by it, but instead goes by Reed.)

Gender: Female

Age: 14

District: 2

Appearance: Monica has cranberry-red hair that's practically stick straight. Some sections of her hair are shorter than others because it is layered, so the back piece is the longest and most lengthy. She has a very long side bang, which covers her left eye, which is darker than her other mauve-purple eye color. It's more lavender, which she can find somewhat too attention-drawing, so she allowed her hair to grow past her face, and doesn't even bother to tuck it behind her ear. She usually throws it up into a half-down half-up hairstyle, because that's all she really knows how to do with such thick, tangled and matted hair. She's quite normal, so nothing is any different about her, but she does seem to hide scars that are on her back or her arms. She has a fresh, clean face that's free of any discoloration or scars, and it's a rather pale skin tone. She has a small nose, and really plump, dark lips, because of her bad habit of always biting them. They can sometime appear to be bloody, or leak of crimson red because of this. It's one of her habits that she does when she is nervous, or anxious.

She has somewhat thick eyebrows, in between thin and bushy.

For the other half of her body, Monica is thin, skinny and weak. Her legs look like twigs, and and her arms are very flimsy and fragile. Her bones didn't develop to be strong, so she can have some occasional weight loss. She is often teased by her size, although she's extremely tall, standing at 5'6 at only fourteen years of age. This can also cause people to fear her because they are clueless of what she'll do.

Personality: Monica is wicked, elusive, and violent. A lot of people underestimate her as a girl who is only silent all the time and never has fun, which is true - but for a different reason. She's always mute, some people calling her the "mute girl", and is often seen alone or listening to what another person has to say. She has her opinions on people, those she doesn't like or those who tease her, she usually gets furious at the thought and practices using her blowgun to let out her steam. She usually plans revenge for those who hurt her with a crooked smirk on her face, and can appear to be scary and not somebody to mess with. She's better off to be left alone than to urge her to talk, as this can annoy her and make her snap.

She has a short temper around people who are talkative, especially the Careers. She'll appear to ally with them however, and put on an act of being snarky and blood-thirsty, but if alone with one, will kill them within a heartbeat before running off. Monica has no family, so she grew up to know how to take care of herself, so she's overly mature. She's barbarous, cruel, and ferocious, and extremely brutal and eager to shed blood if she's bothered or in the mood. She isn't really crazy or insane as many would assume, but after her horrid experience, it changed her for the worst.

On the inside, however, she has a small piece inside of her which is warm, nice, and friendly. Unless she's with somebody she really likes or favors, this hardly ever shows. She has no mercy or pity for anybody and everybody, and she's also very hostile. She's dangerous, and doesn't show any evidence or plans on what she might do to somebody she's had enough with, whether it's just verbally arguing with them or physically harming them.

Weapon(s): Monica is very brutal, once again, so she uses the most damaging of weapons. She likes to use a blowgun and darts, as it's very easy to dip the darts in poison and use it for long-distance attacks. If she isn't able to get this, she'll also go for a curved blade, specifically similar to a sword, as it's easier for up-front and personal attacks. If she has the chance, she'll go for both. She does not have a third weapon, as those two are her most primary sources.

Backstory: (Written in first person to enhance feelings, emotions, and movements. This may involve harrassment and gore. Discretion is advised.)

All my life I was caring, loving. My mother would always take great care of me, and as for my father - not so much. Being an only child often made me lonely, and my mother would always rush to cheer me up and comfort me when I was sad. She put bandages on my "boo-boos" and always fed me, but would sometimes go out certain days to see someone. She'd never tell me who. I had barely any friends and thought that everybody was weird and too awkward to talk to, so school was just another nightmare. I'd always get talked about for being the tallest girl in my class, and for being "scary", so I had no chance at friendship whatsoever. Everybody thought I was frightening, too quiet for their liking. A girl who clung to her mother too much. I'd always get called names and had nothing but toys my mom bought me to play with. I'd envy the kids outside who'd play without me, who had siblings to talk to.

And me? I had nobody.

--

I was in the shed of our home.

Well, it's mine now.

My father was on the floor, crouched over, blood dripping onto the wooden surface of the ground. I clutched the rock in my hand so tight that I could feel pain, but ignored it anyway. "Monica," He says, his voice croaky. I smile.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Why..." He asks. I cock my head to the side.

"I saw you kill her."

"Who?"

"I think we both know." I snap, my mind replaying the scene. I was playing with my dolls when I went out to find dad because I was hungry. I found him with a shovel, scooping up dirt and my mother's body propped up in the ditch he made. When he turned around, my eyes were teary, but he didn't say anything except "Go to your room". I did so. I hated him since. He was the one who made me dislike everybody. He made me like this. Now it's revenge.

"It was for your own good," He whispers and I scoff. "My own good? Wow father. You really have common sense." I roll my eyes, dropping the rock to the ground, my hands throbbing and red. "You thought I'd really believe the story that she left for another man and never came back? She loved me, Henry. She'd play with me when you were always caught up with work. She actually knew how to cook rather than bake a strip of pork from the kitchen cabinet." I hiss, walking over to him. "You sick, twisted man turned your own daughter into a monster. That was the worst day of my life."

He looks at me, the wound I had made on his temple sticking out from the rest of his pale face. A worried, scared expression was on his face.

"You didn't have to kill her."

"She was having an affair, Monica Reed Wynd. She didn't love me."

"But she loved me." I say, biting my lip to prevent it from quivering. Adrenaline kept pumping through me, through my arms, my entire body. "She loved me and you broke that relationship apart! I was all she had left! You don't kill somebody for loving somebody else." I snap, stomping my right foot on the ground. He jumps.

"I could see why she didn't, though."

"Who are you? I did not have this child." He says, piercing guilt at my stomach.

"I'm Monica Reed. No longer a Wynd. It's a name that I should be ashamed of." I say, running my fingers through my hair. He looks at me.

"And I'm no longer living with you, either."

I rush for the shovel, the same one he used that day, I still remember. February 6th.

He struggles for the rock and swings it at me, striking me in the eye. I stumble back as I feel warmness rushing through it, and I feel for it with my right hand.

Blood.

I grasp the shovel between my hands and swing it at him, hitting him in the back, over and over until I saw crimson bleeding through his shirt. I continued. I didn't care.

I open my eye, but only see nothing but red. It's done.

He looks at me one last time. "I love you," He says, and I shake my head, feeling nothing but agony.

"Sad to say I don't feel the same." I mutter, before hitting him right above his nose, on his forehead. He jerks back, his body and limbs bent at awkward and unusal angles. Pity washes over me and I fall to my knees, cupping his face with tears rushing out of my left eye. Blood tears come out of my right one.

"I love you, Henry. Please come back," I plead, sobbing into his hair. But it's worthless.

He's not coming back.

All because of me.

I continue to bawl - guilt, pity, everything coming down on me. I realize that I'm broken, not the old me. I'm not the innocent, sweet, normal and harmless Monica Wynd.

I'm the Monica Reed who is cruel, cold-hearted, murderous, and the pure definition of evil.

Strengths: Monica is good with convincing, causing people to not have many concerns about her and allow her to turn on them at opportunities. She's also very stealthy, being lightweight, so she moves around a lot without making much noise. Monica is also very fast, whether it's running or just doing activities in general. She likes to get things done quick and easy.

Weaknesses: Monica isn't skilled at all with hand-to-hand combat, as she is weak. She is also reckless, which may cause her to have errors in certain situations. She's also extremely short-sighted, not thinking about consequences that may happen after she's done certain actions.

Charm: A blue button from a sweater her mother had knitted her.

Alliance: Careers, later on going solo.

Reaped/Volunteered: Reaped