Name:
Ruth  Jestone

Nickname(s):
N/A

Gender/Pronoun(s):
Female; She/Her

Age:
16

Trait:
Cheimatphobia – Fear of the cold

Appearance:
Ruth has a lightly tanned skin tone that matched with the auburn shade of her hair color, reaching to a short extent of an ear length. Her eyes owned dark hazel orbs and she stands at a height of 5’2. Ruth is particularly that somebody who never stops moving around, so her body has a particular tall build-up, not too thin nor to chubby.

Bio:
The Jestones were relatively a poor family that came from quite a low background. Ruth lived with both of her mother and father and served as an only child. They were indeed complete, but the love and relationship within the circle was not at all healthy, moreover present. Ruth’s parents would constantly argue over small aspects, leading to an over-heated fiasco of Ruth’s mother  giving in to infidelity for a man who was deemed to be more, in the sense, profitable, and her father falling into an abyss of deep depression and dysphoria. Alive, but dead at the same time – empty cigarette boxes and small plastic jars that once used to be filled with pills all emptied out, stacked and scattered. 
With the pleasures of her present life devouring her alive, her mother couldn’t care less of them any longer and was more than prepared to move away, but still provided solely for Ruth’s needs with merely pocket money to even afford a proper education. As a result, Ruth grew up almost dumb to the idea of ‘family’ and was perceived as a ghost who’d wandered under a roof that was supposed to serve as her ‘home’, but became nothing more than a deafening cell block to her. But nevertheless, she refused to believe that her birth was a mistake. All their struggles left so much room in Ruth’s head for all of those suddenly-occurring late night and deep shower thoughts, resulting Ruth to grow up quite open-minded. She believed that if she was still breathing, then there should always be a cause or a reason behind all of it - why despite everything, the idea of death has strangely never taken it’s toll on her. And answers may start to unravel when her father came stumbling home one late evening, still in his garbage-picking uniform, heavily drunk, with a letter in hand and once met with Ruth’s gaze, roughly shoved the unopened envelope to her and proceeded his way to his room.

Extra Info:
Ruth is not the type of person who’d fancy siting still in one place, moreover staying inside her own home. Especially when the sun begins to set and her surroundings hushed into silence, she’d find that tiny spark of relief in strolling around empty spaces and resting on any surface that seem good enough to occupy until it gets darker and when sleepiness embraces her.