CHARLTON, Dallas Faith, [revamp!]

DALLAS FAITH CHARLTON

look up at the mess you made
such a mess you’ve made for us
did you know that the souls you take
and the hearts you break
are lost?

Hey there, glad you could join us. So first thing's first, what do we call you?
My name is Dallas Charlton. That’s it. You don’t get to shorten it, don’t even get to mention my middle name. As far as the world knows, that is my name – not Dal, not Babydoll, not Miss Texas, not Baby. Dallas.

Okay, got it. And how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?
Nineteen. And no, before you ask, my birthday isn’t coming up like every other college sophomore’s in the world – it was on August 5th. I was put in school young.

Mhm and, now don't take this the wrong way, but are you a guy or a girl?
Girl. I get that my breasts aren’t up to par with Pamela Anderson’s, but I’d like to think that I at least resemble a female.

And are you straight, gay or...?
Bisexual. I swing both ways, bat for both teams, however else you want to say it. To be honest, I do have a slight preference for guys over girls, but when it comes down to the down and dirty of it, I’m just as happy with another girl as I am with a guy.

Have we met before? You look so familiar!
You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you? I’ve been at Ellison since freshman year. But no, I think I’d remember an idiot like you. You’re thinking of my aunt, Faith, or an actress, Teresa Palmer.

Excellent. Now, for the benefit of our readers, how would you describe your appearance?
[sighs] I’m not very... good with my appearance. I don’t pay that much attention to it. It’s all confused in my head with my aunt because the resemblance I bear to her is... uncanny, really. So you’ll have to excuse me for not being very helpful in this, but I’m five foot seven, have blonde, wavy hair, blue eyes. I... I just don’t know. People say I’m pretty – God, that sounds so self obsessed – but I don’t know about it really. Aren’t they just seeing Faith, and remembering her? So all the flaws you have... well, when you miss someone, flaws disappear. You set them on a pedestal, so I don’t know really if I’m that pretty.

What else? I’m lean, all muscle and sinew, slight, but don’t let that fool you – I’m stronger than I look. I am around a hundred and forty pounds of muscle, and I’m not ashamed of that. I worked hard to get that kind of muscle and figure, so yes, I have some abs. Other than that... I have... long legs? Look, I already told you that I’m bad at this, because I don’t really pay that much attention to what I look like, so... use your own eyes. Chances are they see better than I can when it comes to me.

And if a stranger had to spot you in a crowd what should they look out for?
The girl who isn’t wearing heels. No really, that’s probably a big stand out around here. I’ve got a really kind of casual, tomboy sense of style – it’s jeans and nerdy shirts and casual things. Tanks, loose shirts, mostly pants and not dresses and not skirts. Nothing frilly, just plain, not sequined or overly glittered and ostentatious and mostly basic colours – blues, greys, greens, white and black. Sneakers as opposed to heels, and a Tap Out bag as opposed to some Dolce and Gabbana handbag. If there’s any jewellery on me, it’s a pair of studs in my ears and my necklace. It’s a charm of om on a leather thong that’s slightly longer than a choker. It’s Buddhist, and Hindu – om, I mean – and I’m neither, but I like what it means. Global compassion; I probably should have more of that.

The only time I even think about dressing up is when there’s an occasion. When I’m going out or trying to impress. When I dated, once upon a time, I made an effort. And then you see... well, if I’m going to make an effort, I make an effort. Plus of not being the most feminine figure to exist is that my back is really good so... I make use of it with backless dresses. It makes me feel almost... feminine? Sexy? I don’t know, something. I have some lace dresses cause... well, they’re not that ostentatious, and not that bad in moderation and I feel... like I used to. Like a girl. Sue me.

So yeah. Look for the girl that doesn’t put a lot of effort in. I’m there, with no makeup on and my hair down and messy or in a rough ponytail, with an arched eyebrow and an I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude. You’ll find me easy enough.

What's the first thing this stranger would notice about you?
Well, isn’t that more a question for you to answer, rather than me? [sighs] Whatever. They’d probably find me with my nose in a book, or with an arched eyebrow and a bitchy attitude, as you are no doubt noticing. Otherwise... I guess, they’d notice that I’m... defensive. Not open and friendly, but private and guarded, and I don’t let people near me, don’t touch them unless I’m fighting, just... keep them away from me. Otherwise... I guess they’d notice my Tap Out bag or my antagonism or.... my legs? They’re long and... people like that, so... whatever. I still say that you’re more suited to answer that question.

Let's just say this stranger decides to observe you for a bit - any habits or quirks they might notice?
I’m sure they’d notice some. In fact, I’m positive about it. They’d notice my posture and stance – it’s very defensive; crossed arms, posture upright to the point where it could slip into threatening with just a little change. And then, my mannerisms which are used so often that they verge on habits themselves, like rolling my eyes or arching an eyebrow. The left, if you wanted to know, because I can’t do the right. Or just raising my eyebrows. Or speaking with sarcasm. I mean, really, I use them so often, it’s probably classed as a habit.

I don’t know what else. I guess, if they actually watched me, didn’t just glance over at me, they’d see that.... I bite my lip when I’m in indecision, and when I’m nervous, I hum or sing. When I’m bored or annoyed, I tap my fingers or fiddle with a pen in my hand if I have one. And I get this face, when I concentrate [chuckles]. I kind of tilt my head, and then my tongue sticks out the side of my mouth... yeah, I look like an idiot, I know, but, I just... it happens. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.

And I have this thing that I have to have some hair around my face free – and mostly that’s fine, because my hair’s down, except if I’m training or in a lab. But I need it down, so there’s something to hide behind. My eyes they... they’re windows to the soul, and I don’t want people to know my soul. So I hide it.

So this creepy stranger, what would their first impression of your character be?
Depends, what has this stranger heard about me? My reputation in this town isn’t exactly clean. I guess, if I’m alone, I’m quiet. If I’m with other people, that I’m a bitch. If I’m in class, focused. I mean, I could keep going on, but I guess, mostly, that I’m private, standoffish and that I’m antisocial. I don’t want people around me, so I definitely don’t let them feel welcome. And... well... if they’ve heard my reputation, that I’m a class A whore. I’m pretty much Ellison’s resident slut. Give the rumours some more time, and who knows, maybe I can overtake Harlow and be the town slut as well. Ask Isaac and he’ll tell you that that’s pretty much what I am anyway. [rolls her eyes]

But if you don’t want to be my friend, and you’re not being an imbecile or a complete ass, you’ll get tolerance and respect – even if it’s a little frosty. I’ll consider what you say, and take it on board – it’s just when people try and pry or form a relationship beyond sex that I just... no. I can’t do it. Forget it. I didn’t used to be this – sure, I used to be sitting in the corner and watching to see if I wanted to approach you, but I didn’t use to so bad. But... things changed. I changed. And now I’m this, Hallows Edge’s very own psychopathic whore bitch. Pleased to meet me?

So, sport, you got any hobbies?
I have more than a few; I have many, and I love them all. Mixed martial arts is a big one. There’s not enough female fighter’s in my opinion, and more’s the pity. It’s a good sport – vicious, but good. It’s self defence and being fit, and it’s the only real way I have to sort myself out. I get rid of my anger, and I can sleep after it, even if my conditions are playing up. MMA has saved me, in so many ways, that’s just the truth of it. Horse riding. It was Dad’s attempt at winning me over, because what little girl doesn’t love a pony? And he was right that time – I love riding. It’s just a horse and me, and the trust, the bond between horse and rider. Nothing else matters, not really.

Reading, as well. I love the worlds that you can fly into when you read. You can be anyone, the dastardly villain, the hero, the wisecracking sidekick, anyone at all. Things are gray, or black and white. I love that, how you can strip off your skin and be anything else, because every bit of you is fluid. Amorphous. You can change in a heartbeat, something that you can’t do in reality, not really. I wish I could write, but everything’s clichéd so, I don’t even try beyond my crappy little poetry that I never really look at unless something’s gnawing at me. Photography as well. I wasn’t gifted with much in the way of artistic talent, but if you can’t draw, and you can’t paint, you photograph. Rely on nature, rather than your mind. I’m not very good at drawing, but... how I see things... I have this really good imagination. Vivid, really descriptive, and that’s part of why my art sucks, because I try to do everything and fuck it all up. But I can use my imagination and put it into photos. Maybe that’s another reason for why I like reading, because I’ve got this imagination that just... explodes with details. I used to see stories in the clouds when I was kid, now I just see beauty everywhere.

Seen the trend yet? I like to be alone, just me. Me and my mind, or me and an animal. I like to rely on me, not on other people. They have a habit of letting you down or walking away. It’s better just to rely on yourself really.

Interesting! And what about the things you like the most?
Well, hobbies again, obviously. Otherwise... [sighs] I like animals, because... I don’t know. They’re company and they don’t ask much from you, and they’re dedicated, loyal. Friendly. I just love animals. I find them gorgeous, and probably would adopt a million and become the crazy old animal lady if I could. Music, a lot of music, punk especially. I like real music, songs with stories that are true and meanings... and I guess I could relate a lot to punk. When you were depressed, you’d turn to it, just to feel that someone else had the slightest inkling of knowledge about what you felt. You find solace in it.

Green. I like it, because it’s... green. It’s calm and placid, and it makes me think of turtles. [Gives a small laugh] Turtles are pretty cool. And ninjas, but that’s neither here nor there. Stars, as well. I like the night – well, did before it was rather forced on me, but the stars... they help me feel like the world is open, that there’s space. Chocolate, and berries. Parkour, and running. I love being in motion, and parkour... it’s just brilliant. I found a place to train here, and I did back in New York so... it challenges you. And I like challenges and puzzles. You’d used to find me every night looking at a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, just working at it. And that’s part of why I’m going into my course. Finding cures, and drugs to work on diseases... it’s a lot of like fitting a puzzle together. Brazilian Jui Jitsu. It started when I was fourteen, when my mother wanted me to take self defence classes. When things.... happened, I stopped, but I found my way back to it. It broke through this shell I’d developed, helped me cope. So I got into it then, when I was sixteen. Loved it ever since.

What else? Winter. I like snow, and snow ball fights, and reading by the fire, and it doesn’t have my birthday, which summer does. I like honesty, and sincerity – you could say anything in the world and it can mean nothing, unless you are honest. And I need things to have meaning. I can’t stand meaningless things, coincidences. Maybe it’s because I was brought up being Catholic and being told everything had a reason, but I find comfort in the idea that everything has a purpose and a meaning to it, a motive with a logic that I can understand. Um... sex. It’s fun. I like it. [shrugs] I’m not a prude.

Joss Whedon – and anything at that. I love his wit and the stories he tells. I love manga, and superheroes and superhero movies, and comics grew on me from all of this. I am basically a huge geek inside – reference A Song of Ice and Fire, or math or science jokes, or Marvel or DC comics, and I probably understand it. I’m just... a big, huge nerd inside. The most you’ll probably ever see it is on my shirts, because they’re quite nerdy but... otherwise, you don’t. The MMA and snark loving person that I am covers most of the nerd, but ... it’s there. With the girl who dances – very badly I might add – when no one’s around and sings in the shower. Little nerd me. I just... can’t play the videogames.

And there's gotta be things you don't like too, right?
Let’s talk about videogames again, shall we? I can flip through the air because of parkour, kick ass because of mixed martial arts, and yet I can’t make a bunch of pixels do what I do in real life? It infuriates me, I’m not going to lie about that, it really does. I’m not a clumsy person, and yet I die because I fall off a building when I try to look down? I just... video games and I do not get along, and it’s moved beyond a challenge. It actively tries to troll me. [shakes her head] It’s a bitch, to put it bluntly.

Shit music, so a lot of pop, that manufactured bullshit. It has no soul, and no story, and really, no purpose other than to be a cash cow for some people who are genetically blessed. Plus, most of it is autotuned to the point of being ninety nine percent computer, one percent voice. It just grates against me. Small spaces, because I’m claustrophobic. There’s no great reason why I’m claustrophobic, just that I am. I won’t even go into a lift unless I’m going beyond thirteen floors, because yes I am fit, but my hamstrings do not need that much work, no thank you. Ah, I hate... vampire bandwagons, and sparkly ones, because being the victim doesn’t seem sexy to me. I can get biting during sex, but... no. Don’t start sucking blood, I kind of need it. So... yeah. Also, dead. They are dead. No.

Alcohol. I binged on the wrong stuff when I was young, lost my taste for it. And... after what happened with it, that and drugs... I hate them both. I’ve done pot, and E, and I almost did Coke, and that lifestyle destroyed things. And while we’re on that track, I hate the pills that I’ve been prescribed – funny, because my course is all about making drugs, but I hate taking them myself. And I hate hospitals, and I hate therapists. And, in some ways, I hate journalists, twisting things to sell papers. I hate people who can’t get over themselves, and I hate people who put themselves before their friends. I hate people prying into my life. Well, half true – I hate people trying to find out things about my past. I just want to forget it, pretend it never happened. It’s not healthy but... it’s all I can do. Liars. Tell me the truth, have enough balls to do that, don’t lie. I don’t care if it’s graceless or tactless, or harsh, just tell me the goddamn truth. Don’t lie.

[sighs] I guess I hate a lot of things. I dislike summer, because it’s so hard to ever find a good temperature and, usually, that’s three months of New York with my parents, and an awkward birthday. I dislike the return of eighties fashion, because it was not acceptable even then. Horror movies, as well. They just.. strike too close to home for me. Just... far too close to home. And... curling. You know the sport? I don’t get it, and God knows that I’ve tried to figure it out, but I can’t. So I give up. I get the physics, I get the use of brooms and the goal, but I just don’t get the reason for it to exist. At all. Ever.

Great! So are you keeping any secrets? Don't worry, I swear I won't tell.
Isn’t the point of secrets for people tonot know? [sighs] Fine, whatever. I’ve got some psychological conditions that no one really knows about. Insomnia. I can’t sleep half the time, and when I do, I remember... well, I remember things I’d rather forget. And then we’ve got the PTSD and the depression... so, those are big ones.

Then, there’s the therapist bender, back in New York when I was sixteen. Therapy every Tuesday, sometimes Thursdays as well, at five in the afternoon for one hour, for eight months. I ran through seven therapists in eight months and I still can’t get myself sorted out, but at least with this particular fact about me being secret, no one knows just what a fucked up mess I am. In fact, most of my past is a secret. The fact that I used to do drugs and drink when I was fifteen, that I had sex when I was fourteen and... what happened in 2008. I don’t tell anyone that. Not if I can help it. Basically, anything relating to my past is just... locked away. Hidden and kept secret, because ... no. No. It doesn’t get to come across state lines and here to Massachusetts. It stays there, where it is. It can’t hurt me now.

And my last secret? I’m a curse – that’s what they say about me. I’m a curse, and you know what, maybe it’s true. All the things that happened... well, I told you I liked for things to have meaning, right? Well, it can’t be a coincidence, and I’m the linking factor so... it’s me. It’s crazy and insane but... what if it’s true? What then?

My lips are sealed. Now, what would you say is your best quality?
Have you not been paying any attention to me? I’m a bitch – okay, what bitch has a good quality? Well... if I had to say one... maybe honesty? I don’t lie, not to myself, not to anyone. At worst, I’ll just... leave words out. I’ve been doing that a lot since Isaac and I started fighting – leaving words out and letting his assume the worst. It’s a good tactic, makes him hate me. Which is... good. I think.

But I think... deep down, it’s my ability to care. And I hate it. I would do anything for my friends – give up anything, take bullets for them, no sweat, help them in any way I can, be there for them. And that’s meant to be a good feature, right? But when they die, because of that – when they’re dead on the road because of that feature, how can it be good anymore? How can it be anything other than this thing that killed someone you cared about?

And your worst? C'mon, no one's perfect, kiddo.
[points to self] Bitch. Whore. Psychopath. Take your pick, I’ve got a name and insult that’s been thrown at me for basically every possible bad trait in the world. I’m blunt and I’m tactless and I’m withdrawn. But... worst?

God, I just look myself and hate it. Think, ‘shit, I’m a horrible person’. But worst? Well... I hold a grudge. I internalise everything until they all accumulate and I explode, and I have some anger issues, so there’s these massive bits of anger inside of me that I cling to and hold against people. And even if I’m training at MMA to get it out, it’s still there. And, I’m proud you know. Proud and independent means that I muddle around in my own mess and don’t let people help me. I don’t know what my worst feature is, because I see them all.

I used to be worse though. My worst feature used to be that I was selfish.

Now how about the other people in your life, let's talk family.
Family. Wow. That’s just such a pleasant topic for me.

Well, my parents. There’s my dad, Gerard Charlton. He’s in the banking business, watching the shares market, the Dow Jones. We’ve never been close. Maybe it’s because he had me at twenty five and he’s never quite forgiven me for coming along and ruining the best laid plans, but I think it’s more than that. He used to have a sister, Faith. They were born a year apart, him the elder, and they were close. It’s why my middle name is Faith – I was named her after her. There’s this whole saga about my birth and her death, and then add in the fact that I’m basically her ghost... so yeah, we’re distant, because I don’t think he’s ever tried to see past Faith and actually see me. So he’s never been there for my birthday, and thought that buying me a pony would make up for it. Maybe it’s just all too painful for him, but honestly? I’ve moved past caring about it. If he wants to see Faith first, fine. I’m not going to try and breach the gap again. I’m too tired for it, and it won’t change a thing.

Then we have my mother, Abilene Charlton. She’s the eternal middle child – peacekeeper, mediator. She’s a project manager for a book publishing house, and she’s put more than a few on the Best Seller list too. I got my love of reading from her, I think. I spent more time with her than Dad, because she would make time for me. We’d read a lot. I must have read To Kill A Mockingbird at least twice before we studied because of her. She comes to my horse shoes, supports me, and I love her dearly. But... things are tense. I don’t want to go back to New York, and she wants me there. I don’t want to connect with Dad, and she wants me to. I think she gets exasperated by how stubborn I can be, but ... what can you do? Together, they were rough. There was a divorce on the cards but, now...? It’s better. Dad’s been home more in the last couple of years, and I can’t help but notice that he’s there more when I’m not. Coincidence? I’d been lying if I said I thought it was. That’s me, Dallas – the person who runs her father from his home and almost forces her parents’ divorce. It’s a good life.

Then we have my sister, Cadence. She’s seven, born when I was twelve, so there’s quite an age gap, so we’re not that close. I feel more like her mother than her sister, and I don’t think that’ll ever really change. But I love her. She’s my gap toothed, adorable baby sister and that’s all that matters to me. She’s the family favourite – or at least my father’s – with her face full of freckles and teenie tiny height. Too adorable. I can see why Dad prefers her to me, and not just because she doesn’t look like Faith. Cadence wants to love – me? I think he realised after a while, that I wanted him to earn it, rather than be given it automatically.

I’ve mentioned my aunt a bit, haven’t I? Want to hear the sordid tale? Faith was my father’s sister, and she was the brilliant type. The golden girl. Won pageants and was popular and smart and blah, blah, blah. In a nutshell, she was a hard thing to live up to. And she died from cancer. More to it, she died on the same day I was born, within two hours of my birth. While my father was holding my mother’s hand in labour, she passed away. The day that my parents announced that they were pregnant with me, was the day that she received the news that her cancer was terminal. I don’t know her, I don’t pretend to, but I feel haunted by her. I’m basically her spitting image, and I’ve been compared to her so much by my family and people who knew her. I can’t escape her, she’s in my name. She’s in my reflection. I’m her ghost. She’s part of the reason that I wanted to do medicinal chemistry, just so I could avoid something like this happening to another person. And yeah, maybe I feel guilty, a bit. Maybe I believe I’m a curse, a bit. Because between her and Alex... it just... doesn’t make sense for it to just be coincidence. Right?

Any pets?
Yeah. I have my horse, Gerry. He’s a Danish Warmblood gelding, with the kindest eyes you’ll ever see. He’s actually called Sir Geraint, after the knight in King Arthur’s court, but his stable name is just Gerry. My sister’s horse – little Shetland pony, ball of fluff – is his companion horse, just there to eat feed, look pretty and generally just keep Gerry company in the stables. He’s called Harry – more appropriately Hairy. He sheds like crazy.

And I have a puppy. She’s still small, but she’ll grow. Her name’s Dakota, and she was a gift to me for my nineteenth birthday, from Isaac Suzette, back from when we spoke to each other without hurling about five insults every second at each other. [bites her lip] She’s a Great Dane Labrador cross, and just beautiful. I’m glad that at least he didn’t demand her back when I called it quits. I love her.

You're doing great, just a few more questions. So where are you from?
NYC, the Big Apple. And, if you didn’t guess, I pretty much hated it. It’s so crowded, with all the smog. You never see the stars. I felt boxed in and with the claustrophobia, that was hardly helpful at all. I know you need it for my parents’ jobs, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it, and I didn’t either way. So, I’m not in a big hurry to return there, especially given all the connotations it has which is why I stayed here for the summer. I’ve got a rented place out in Whistler’s Fields that my parents pay for. Funny thing is, this place is feeling more like home than New York has in the last five years or so.

I see, cool. So how come you ended up at Ellison?
Well, Mum was born here in Hallows Edge, and when her and Dad were going through a rough patch and thinking about a divorce, Mum decided that it would be best for them to have a little bit of time apart. So we came here, Mum, Cadence and I, for what Mum called a “spiritual retreat” during the winter vacation of my senior year I think. I saw Ellison, and I liked it. And I liked the town, as it wasn’t New York and I couldn’t stand to be in New York any longer. And Ellison had a good course in medicinal chemistry, which is what I wanted to study. I know, call me a nerd for not looking at the weekly keggers. But, basically, that’s the reason. I wanted to escape and Ellison was perfect for it.

Almost done. So anything else we should know about you?
So... [bites her lip] I’ve been leaving things out. Big things. You can probably see the holes in my story from a mile away. So... fine, I’ll tell you. Just... explain. Just... it’s hard, okay? It’s hard to remember and it’s hard to explain and to talk about, so just... give me time.

[inhales deeply]

You get the family issues, right? Got the Daddy-was-never-here, but not the issues, not really. I’m not looking for his attention. I don’t try and get every guy who so much as glances my way to love me to make up for it – despite what people may say about why I sleep around - and I don’t hate guys. I just don’t like anyone, and that’s for something completely different. Yes, I’ll admit, I have some fears about rejection because he could never really grow close to me, even when I tried, but otherwise... I don’t have them. And then, we’ve got the whole Aunt Faith debacle since birth. It’s not enough to make someone messed up like I am. How do you get PTSD from the death of someone you didn’t even know? It’s not enough. So, even with all of this, I grew up relatively normal, you know? Went to a good school, had friends, all the other nauseating cliché crap that includes blushing and crushing and so on and so forth. I was good at school, had a mind for math and science and liked to read. I rode my horse. I wasn’t abnormal.

But somewhere, amongst it all, it went wrong. Being compared to Faith started to feel like a chain or a collar into being this person that I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be me – Dallas, not Faith. So, I started to rebel. Went to parties, drank. Did weed. Did whatever I thought the little Miss Perfect Princess Faith Charlton wouldn’t do. When I was fourteen, I lost my virginity in my boyfriend’s pool room partly because I thought I loved him, and also partly because I was in a competition with a friend, to see who could lose it first. I was fourteen. I was stupid. But, at the start, it wasn’t all bad. Weed and beer – that was teenage rebellion to me. It just... got out of hand. Became Ecstasy and harder drinks and more sex. And I, stupid little Babydoll, so afraid of being left behind by her older friends and being rejected, went along and did it all. Didn’t see the harm, or let them convince me there was no harm in it.

I’ve thought about it over the years, and I can pinpoint the start. The real start, when things went out of my hands and there was no turning back from any of it. It was a party, and no, I wasn’t raped. But... well, then I did have some Daddy issues obviously. And my answers to all of them were rebellion. So I was stupid and drank. God, I should not have started on the tequila. It’s why I hate alcohol now. Tequilla all night, binging on it. No. Never again.

Anyway, so I was making a massive mess of myself, and so was everyone else. We’re fifteen, turning sixteen, the world is ours, we’re fucked up teenagers, let’s get smashed and who gives a shit! We were at that point where your life is just all “no one understands”. Everything is a melodrama. Then... well, I’m buzzed, and I wake up after... [clears throat suggestively]... and go downstairs to the rest of my friends. And one of them has a cousin who’s in a band. Lizee Daniles’ band, to be exact, and they brought with them some groupies. Lizee’s boyfriend, and his friend or his cousin or something, and he’s giving them coke. He’s offering everyone coke. I passed; I was feeling queasy, and almost passing out, but I don’t think that was it at all. I think I was feeling queasy because I just knew, in my gut, that this was passing a line. And Alex, my best friend in the world, takes some. Snorts it. So does Amanda. I pass out, and when I wake up, it’s whatever. It’s done. But just as I was on the verge of passing out, I remember looking at Lizee and just... I don’t even know what, trying to ask her with my eyes just to stop them. She didn’t. Instead, she brought those people to that party, and started everything.

These were my friends, you have to realise that. My friends. Next day it’s fine, but Alex. He’s just... getting such a kick out of it. He’d always been this guy to be happy and energetic and draw you out of your shell, but when he was high, he was just so full of life. I don’t know what he saw in coke, but suddenly, it’s parties all the time for him, and we’re his friends. We come and we support each other because we’re tight, all of us. We’re a unit. I was back then. I was like, “let’s all be fucked up together!”. I didn’t realise that I was too busy being selfish to see one of my best friends slowly become addicted to coke.

And then, one day, I wake up to everything. My friend was playing daredevil with trucks on the road, and I was right there beside him. If it had been just him, not Alex and me and Pat, then he would have died. He wouldn’t have moved from the road. It hit me like ... [laughs mirthlessly] like a truck. He was hooked. He was hooked on cocaine. Because that’s what we could do. We were all from these families that had money, enough to buy coke and snort it when the folks were out. I didn’t do any I swear, but.... well, they did. And I struggle with it for a while, knowing this, because if I tell anyone, then I hurt him. Betray him. I tell myself that it’s not worth it, but it is. Because this is Alex and I valued him over how much I enjoyed his company. Still, it’s a while. I lose my boyfriend, Sean, that way. We get into an argument about telling someone and I just lose it. It all explodes. And then I go and tell Alex’s parents, and I lose everyone else that way. I’m the outcast, the villain of the story, because I betrayed them, got everyone in trouble, but it’s all worth it because Alex will be fine. If he gets his life back on track, then I’m fine, even if they never speak to me again. That’s my first experience with the idea that true selfishness is seeing something happening, something wrong, and doing nothing about it because you risk something. And I’m glad to say that I stopped being that selfish.

And for a while, it’s good. He’s on detox. He’s even going back to church, because that was Alex. Mama’s boy and Church goer. Avid Christian. He said God had led him back from the path of sin. Looking back, that should have been a trigger for me to click, but it wasn’t. I was just trying to get by without my friends. But when you want something bad enough, you go and get it. That’s what every Disney movie seems to be about, and that moral is just as easily applied to life, even the bad sides of it. So what does Alex do? He gets drugs. And I hear about him snorting a line again. Just one, just for the quick hit because that’s all he needs and then he’s done. You know, I used to believe that line when he said it, but by then, I knew better.

I would give anything to change what I did next. I told you about my anger issues right? Well, they raised their head. I went to his house and we had a massive blowout. I found his stash – not that I “found” it per se, Alex was predictable and hadn’t really changed it – and took it. I was going to burn it, but... oh God. He followed me outside. He followed me and he was hit by a car coming around a bend that didn’t slow down. They ruptured his kidneys and he bled to death in less than ten minutes. And all I can ever think is I did that. I caused that. Maybe I am a curse. It’s illogical, stupid, but there’s the thought, and what’s worse is... what if it’s right? Alex, and Faith, that can’t just happen for no reason! And then, what my parents went through after all of that, how they broke down because of what I was going through... what if it’s true?

And it’s why I don’t talk to people, because you talk, you become friends – well, you care. And friends can betray you easily, if you do something that interferes with their life. Caring leaves you vulnerable, puts you in their hands and makes you an easy target. And not only that, but I honestly think that caring can turn you selfish, because what happens to that person affects you. My father cared so much about his sister that he indulged a selfish desire to never be near me. I was selfish enough to let a friend become addicted to coke. What I did – taking his stash – I’m not saying it was right or wrong, but God, I wish I could change it.

And then... the after. I hate the after. The after is a massive media blowout that involves me being the villain and being blamed by my schoolmates, my friends, just the public. The after is an exercise three months long in feeling nothing, in existing in this pit of depression. After is therapy and a cocktail of drugs that numbed me even more. It’s nine days on suicide watch after I cut myself just to prove that I could feel. After is breaking my parents by being so unresponsive, it’s having nightmares for weeks on end, it’s just... the after was painful. Still is.

And the aftermath, of all of it. One day when I’m wandering the streets, just trying to escape home and my memories, I come across my old gym, and there’s blood. It used to trigger me, so much, screamed at the sight of it. Flashed right back to Alex on the road. But it’s different. MMA broke through, helped me. Led me out of the depression, inch by inch, let have a way to release everything I felt. I transferred schools, focused on school work, on my MMA, had fewer friends then you could count on one hand and withdrew socially. There was the almost divorce, the winter vacation here, and then my graduation, my acceptance into Ellison, and all that’s followed here, which has been a lot of people hating me and a very misguided friends with benefits with Isaac Suzette. Stupid decision, should have known much better. And now I’m here, in this room. I think if there’s any blanks, you can fill them in yourself.

Now it's time to find out about the player! What are we to call you?
KRISTEN! [Krisatt, Dalten, Krisper, Lusten, Keelen, Kristeau]

And how long have you been on this planet?
19 years... but omg, I turn 20 in three months. WTF?!

So how long have you been trapped in the wonderful world of roleplay?
Too, too long.

Any other creations of yours wandering this site?
Dallas “Miss Fucked Up” Charlton, Wyatt “Mr Spastic” McCarthy, Piper “Miss Mouse” Samuels, Lucas “Mr Popularity” Tyler, Keely “Miss Daredevil” Page, Beau "Mr Gentleman" Garrett

And how did you find us?
I followed a yellow brick road.

Is this app in response to a Want Ad?
Nope.

Is there anything else we should know?
Ilu! And I am posting this just to be safe because I don’t remember if I can just edit or if I have to be reapproved and I dun wanna break any rules and I know that Beau doesn’t have two threads, but can I still to a revamp? OMG I HAVE NO IDEA

And finally, the phrase that pays!
Mona Lisa, you can totally run my town!

And a super special spot for the Admins!
Approve/Disapprove (ADMIN ONLY)

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