Arya Knight

Name: Arya Sofia Knight
Age: 15
Circa: 1988
Face: Kaya Scodelario

Hair Color: Dark brown
Eye Color: Grey Blue
Height: 5'7
Body Type: Lanky and thin
General Appearance: Dark

Cause of Death: Unknown

Background History:
You're missing out. Arya had pointed out to her best friends. During Arya's life, she always had a cigarette between cracked red lips. Her eyes were always closed as she snorted the pretty white powder. Arya laughed as her friends flinched as the needle was pressed into her soft skin. Arya didn't care that she a drug addict, nor did she care that her parents hated her because of it.
Sweet, gentle Arya died long ago she used to explained. The young girl with the pretty blue eyes and long brown hair never even had a chance. Arya's life wasn't easy, not that she told anyone that. No, her nights were spent with her eyes closed and number being counted as he extracted his pleasure from her. The older Arya got, the more appealing drugs became. Her mother didn't care that he was doing things to her daughter. No, it was easier to turn away when it happened. Arya didn't hate her for it. She felt nothing toward the being that was her mother.
Fighting is useless. Arya sobbed out as she clung to her boyfriend. Her drug abusing boyfriend who used her for sex. Arya didn't know that though. As he took his pleasure from her, he would whisper sweet promises into her ear and Arya believed him. She was fourteen and fifteen; he was seventeen. She had every reason to believe him. And, Arya would rather spend her nights with her boyfriend, even if he didn't care about her, than him.
Will you ever quit? Her mother's shrill voice echoed in her ears as a manicured hand swiped her face. Arya blinked when she did that, raising her shaking hand back to her mouth to press the joint in. It was a simple answer. She would never quit. Her worries went away when she absorbed death itself. Arya knew that the horrible nights and the heartbreak was worth the feeling of a high, or a needle, or blowing smoke. So, when she finally answered, her mother received a blunt Fuck off. It felt good.
She's so broken. And she's only fifteen! Arya ignored those whispers. If she was high enough, she'd laugh. If the ached between her legs hurt too much, she'd flick ash onto them. Fuck them all. She didn't need them. Her friends weren't her friends. Her family wasn't her family. Her boyfriend, dead, suicide. Arya had no one. She was broken. And she fucking lived it up.
Arya Knight will be missed. Arya was high, shaking, and confused. Stumbling home from a party, Arya found that her heart was racing. It was a glorious feeling. She felt out of control, but her depressing thoughts escaped her. She stopped in an alley way, pulling out another needle. Perfect. Arya was laughing when she stuck in it. And she was laughing when she blacked out.

Other: When Arya discovered that she was in fact dead, she smiled. She was finally free.