Rise

Chapter 17

WARNING: intense violence and possibly sensitive material 

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No one can hate you with more intensity

than someone who used to love you.

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I had been born into a loving, caring family. My father helped people get houses, and my mother was a doctor. I had a brother named Aaron that was 6 years older than me, and a sister named Kiara that was 5 years older than me. We all lived in a village on Jedha, next to a rare forest.

From the moment I could crawl, I was adventurous. I'd go anywhere I could manage, and I never seemed to get tired. My parents and siblings always had to keep a constant eye on me, in order to make sure that I never got too far.

Once I was able to walk, it only got more difficult to keep me from getting into trouble. Little me loved to go outside, and had an affinity for animals that no one else really had. Animals loved me; and my siblings, well, they'd try to have this effect on the animals--but it never worked.

Upon gaining the ability to speak, I never stopped talking. And once I was able to talk, my determination to adventure became even more intense.

I continued to grow, and was due to go to my village's school soon; I was 6.

My only friends at this time were my siblings; my brother, Aaron, absolutely adored me. Her sister Kiara sometimes got annoyed with her, but it was always temporary.

Aaron was the best brother I could ever have. At the age of 6, he had me in the backyard, teaching me how to shoot. I'd been given a gun, and then a fake target to shoot. I, even at such a young age, was quite the skilled shooter.

When I started school, I was a very bright, happy young girl. My confidence was astounding, and I'd back-talk the teachers quite often. It was a wonder I never got in trouble--other kids were somewhat inspired and in awe of my ability to worm out of trouble and my taste for adventure.

I loved to read, too. Books were my favorite things, beyond anything else. The class would always talk and do nonsense during free-time, but I was always the one to pick up a book and read instead. I've always liked action-adventure books, because they made me feel as if I could do something great myself.

I got older. At the age of 9, I was in 3rd grade. At this age, my personality was even more colorful and bright; it was still fresh and new, because it had yet to be scarred by the trials that life gives everyone. My personality had yet to undergo development.

Bubbly and happy, I was hard not to fall for. All the guys in my grade that knew my name liked me. I had wit and charm, and was rather pretty too. My hair was long and dark with subtle highlights, and my green eyes were somewhat hypnotic. It was hard to ignore my smile, and the dimples in my cheeks made that all the more difficult.

It was in 3rd grade that I met a red-headed girl named Armenia, whose thirst for adventure matched mine. We immediately hit it off, and within weeks were close friends. We were quite a duo, and if one of us got in trouble, the teacher would always dismiss it with something along the lines of, "Oh, but their friendship is just so adorable, I'll let it be."

Armenia was brave. She was never afraid to speak her mind, and she was quite a dare-devil. All of the guy our age, at that time, had been riding around on hover-boards--boards that hovered inches above the ground. Armenia had gotten one, and had proved to all of the guys with hove-rboards that she was the best hover-board rider around.