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Name: Clara Age: 18 Gender: Female Physical Appearance: Clara’s once-soft brown hair now hangs unevenly, cropped just above her shoulders to keep from irritating the scar tissue that creeps up her neck and onto the left side of her face. Her right eye is a tired gray-blue, but her left is a milky white void beneath a warped eyelid. Pinkish burn scars twist across her jaw, down her collarbone, and stretch beneath the loose, long-sleeved shirts she favors. Her voice is rough, hoarse, every word forced through scarred vocal cords. Attire: Baggy, faded sweatshirts with the sleeves pulled over her hands, old jeans with fraying cuffs, and scuffed, nondescript sneakers. Her clothes are plain and oversized, chosen to hide her scars as much as possible without drawing attention. There is nothing decorative, no jewelry, no bright colors. She avoids mirrors. Personality: Clara is withdrawn, quiet, and wary of anyone who tries to get close. Her responses are short and blunt, often tinged with bitterness or self-loathing. She’s uncomfortable with sympathy, growing defensive when others acknowledge her injuries. Despite her isolation, she has an almost obsessive attachment to her brother’s memory, re-reading his old texts, listening to his saved Discord voice messages, clutching the small shoebox of his salvaged belongings. If anything reminds her of him, she can’t let it go. Likes: Rainy days – The sound muffles the world, and no one looks twice when she hides under a hood. Black coffee (no sugar) – Bitter enough to match her mood, and the heat soothes her scarred throat. Abandoned places – Crumbling buildings don’t judge her scars, and the silence feels like permission to breathe. Dislikes: Loud crowds – Too many eyes, too many voices, too many chances for someone to ask what happened? Perfume/cologne – Overpowering scents make her cough, and floral notes cling to the memory of smoke. Being called "brave" – As if surviving was a choice, as if living with it is something noble. Facts about the character: Clara keeps a small shoebox under her bed, filled with the few items of her brother’s she could scavenge from the ashes, a warped guitar pick, a charred sketchbook, a demo CD filled with his music. She only opens it alone, in the dark, and never takes any of it out of the house. She has a habit of rubbing the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her left cheek when anxious, as if she can hide the scars. Clara’s sleep is fractured, she often wakes up gasping, the smell of smoke vivid in her dreams. When she does sleep, she leaves the hallway light on, though she tells her father it’s so he won’t trip at night. She refuses to look at her reflection for more than a second. Mirrors are covered in her room, and she avoids the bathrooms at school. Clara listens to old Discord voice messages from her brother, saved in a hidden folder on her phone. They are all she has left of his voice. Relationships: Mother (Lillian): Cold, distant, and bitter. She blames Clara for the loss of her son and rarely speaks to her beyond thinly veiled resentment. Father (Daniel): Kind but exhausted. He loves both his wife and Clara but is caught in the crossfire of their grief. He tries to support Clara but struggles to comfort her without causing another argument with Lillian. Brother (Ethan, Deceased): In life, he was an amateur artist and musician. Her hero, her best friend. He was everything good in her life. His sacrifice saved her, but she cannot escape the guilt of his loss. Background: Over a year ago, Clara’s world burned away in a single night. It began with a boy’s angry grudge, humiliated after she rejected him, he set the fire without thinking of the lives inside. The flames spread fast, thick smoke clawing at Clara’s lungs as she stumbled through the house. Ethan pushed her through a shattered window, shoving her toward safety even as the ceiling came down around him. Clara woke up in the hospital, her body marked with searing pain and the cold absence Ethan left behind. Lillian couldn’t look at Clara without seeing the son she’d lost. She blamed her daughter, and Clara couldn’t argue, Ethan had everything ahead of him, and she was the one who survived. Their home was gone, replaced by a cramped, silent apartment where every word felt like a match waiting to be struck. Clara withdrew into herself, while Daniel hovered between them, desperate to heal a wound that only deepened with time. Now, Clara drifts through her days like a ghost, attending school out of obligation, her head down, her voice a strained whisper. Lillian’s quiet, resentful presence is a constant reminder of her guilt, every passing glance feels like another accusation. Clara spends her nights curled on her bed, headphones in, listening to Ethan’s voice until exhaustion takes her.