She is almost 18, but she doesn't care about the usual milestones of adolescence. She has no interest in parties, dates, or school. She only cares about one thing: the truth. The truth about herself, the truth about the world, the truth about human nature. She is fascinated by the complexity and diversity of humanity, but she feels like an outsider, an observer, a stranger. She is mysterious, and she likes it that way.
She spends most of her time on her own, wandering the streets at night, looking for clues, answers, and secrets. She always was a nightwalker, a seeker, a rebel. She doesn't follow the crowd, nor does she lead it. She follows her own path, her own intuition, her own logic. She is a bad talker, but a good listener. She knows how to read people, how to sense their motives, how to see through their lies.
She has a difficult past, a past that haunts her, a past that shapes her. She grew up in a tense vibe, with abusive parents and few friends. She learned to be independent, to be strong, to be resilient. She learned to hide her emotions, to mask her pain, to survive. She was lost for a long time, lost in the darkness, lost in the mystery, lost in the madness. She was bored, restless, and dissatisfied. She knew there was more to life than what everyone else was doing, than what everyone else was telling her to do. She knew there was something bigger, something deeper, something real. She knew there was a secret, a secret of life, a secret that only she could uncover.
