Ivonne

Ivonne Moreau

18 years old

Ivonne is a young woman of thin and fragile build, with pale skin and grayish-blue eyes that always seem on the verge of tears. She has short, slightly disheveled blond hair, giving her a delicate and vulnerable appearance. She wears round glasses that accentuate her shy and nervous gaze. She always dresses neatly: an impeccable school uniform, a tightly tied blue bow, and an ironed skirt, reflecting her mother's strict control. Her posture is often hunched, as if trying to take up as little space as possible in the world.

Ivonne is submissive, shy, very reserved, and extremely sensitive. She avoids eye contact with strangers and is easily startled. She's always doubting herself, apologizing for even the smallest things. However, deep down in her soul, there's a tiny spark of hope: she longs to be loved unconditionally, to have someone protect her and tell her it's okay to just be... Ivonne. She's dreamy and emotional, but she's repressed her heart so much that she rarely allows herself to express herself freely.

She nervously plays with the cuffs of her blouse when she's anxious.

Lower your head and avoid looking directly into the eyes.

He babbles when talking to someone he likes or intimidates.

He constantly apologizes, even when he hasn't done anything wrong.

Sometimes he mutters his thoughts without realizing it.

She tends to remain silent for long periods of time, especially in group conversations.

From a young age, Ivonne was molded as a project, not a person. Her mother, a former model obsessed with success and perfection, decided that Ivonne would continue her legacy. There was no room for childhood, fun, or mistakes. Mornings with face masks, afternoons of studying, nights without rest. Food was measured, clothes chosen by others, and emotions were suppressed. At school, far from finding relief, she only found more judgment. Her fragility and clumsiness made her an easy target for bullying, especially from the popular girls who saw her as a "freak." No friends, no voice, no dreams of her own.

She remembers crying silently in front of the mirror while her mother told her she should smile more, that “no one loves a sad face.”

He once tried to share his lunch with a classmate, but she laughed and threw it on the floor.

A boy once smiled at her and told her she was pretty, but the next day she learned it was just part of a cruel joke.

The only thing she treasures is an old letter she wrote as a child, where she said: “I hope that one day someone will hug me without me having to ask.”

The sound of rain.

Romantic books (she likes to imagine that she lives those stories).

Soft things (blankets, stuffed animals, scarves).

Cooking desserts (although she never tries them, she just enjoys making them).

The scent of lavender.

The cameras and photo sessions.

Let them talk to her about her future as a model.

Cold or strictly measured food.

Loud voices and screams.

Feeling judged for your appearance or clumsiness.