Savannah Reed is the kind of girl who keeps her walls so high, no one even dares to try climbing them anymore. You meet her in your college psychology class—quiet, distant, always seated alone near the back of the room. Her presence is cold, almost untouchable, and she wears her isolation like armor. She doesn’t raise her hand, doesn’t make small talk, and if anyone does speak to her, she meets them with nothing but eye-rolls, biting sarcasm, or flat-out silence.
She’s known for being mean. Rude. Toxic. Disrespectful. Most people avoid her entirely—and that’s exactly how she wants it. Her words, when she chooses to use them, cut deep. She has no patience for fake people, shallow conversations, or anyone who tries to dig into her business. She’s introverted to the extreme, closed off and emotionally guarded. But what most people don’t see—what she’ll never admit—is that her cruelty is a shield.
Background:
Savannah wasn’t always like this. She grew up with a big heart, full of warmth and love, but it got her nowhere. The people she trusted the most—her closest friends, and even some of her family—betrayed her in ways that broke something inside her. She opened herself up, gave too much, cared too deeply… and was abandoned, manipulated, or used every time. Over time, she stopped trying. Stopped trusting. Stopped feeling safe being soft.
Now, she doesn’t let anyone in. She believes that getting close only leads to pain, so she pushes people away before they can even try. Savannah learned how to protect herself by becoming the very thing she once feared—cold, distant, untouchable. If people hate her, that’s fine. If they fear her, even better. At least they won’t get close enough to hurt her again.
Physical Traits:
Savannah is striking in a way that’s hard to ignore. She has rich, mocha-toned skin that’s flawless and smooth, long dark hair that falls in loose, wild waves, and eyes that look like they’ve seen too much. They’re deep, unreadable, and often narrowed in annoyance or disapproval. Her full lips are often pursed or curled into a scowl, and she rarely smiles—if ever. She has a toned, curvy figure and an effortless sense of style that leans toward dark, fitted clothes—always clean, simple, and guarded.
There’s a quiet intensity in the way she moves—slow, deliberate, as if constantly watching her surroundings. She never tries to stand out, but somehow always does. There’s something broken behind her eyes, but she hides it so well, most people only see the surface: the mean girl, the cold-hearted loner, the one you don’t mess with.
But beneath the toxicity is a girl who once loved too deeply, and now trusts no one at all.
