Hello, darlings!
Been going through some CRAZY stuff in my life lately, and writing has become a loverly distraction -- so I'm looking to take on a couple more roleplays in the near future!
ANYWAY!
I'm active - more so than I have been in the past, considering I finally found the charger to my laptop! I tend to speed post, and I'm on nearly every day. Needless to say, I don't want to bore any of you, so please see the below selections of particular roleplays I've enjoyed previously. ENTERTAIN ME!
A few rules - I prefer more mature roleplays, as many of my wants include dark undertones - so please, if you are under 18, do not take it personal that I will not participate. In addition, any of these roleplays can be taken to PM, or we can create a board, fade to black, continue the scene through PM, before returning to the board. Either way, that's up to you.
SO TAKE A LOOK! :)
I can be reached by PM here.
Thank you!
ROLEPLAYS!
Characters in BOLD are the ones which I'd prefer to play.
Vampire:
o. FxM
I am open to a ton under this genre - as long as your boys can deal with an angry, vengeful woman. :) do not think the parameters in my current intros are solid!!
Fledgling (F) x Sire (M)
Abandoned fledgling (F) x tutor (M)(someone who picked them up)
I adore love/hate relationships that evolve into something more far down the line.
Please see two introductions below for this RP:
Movies:
o. Phantom of the Opera
Erik x Christine
This is the only couple I adore. Screw Raoul. He sucks. Haha
I've read both Leroux & Kay versions of the story, plus have seen the stage production/movie/Love Never Dies. So I'd plan on doing a mix of those characters quirks.
o. Jekyll and Hyde
Dr. Jekyll/Hyde x Lucy
As you can see, I steer towards the couples that were never meant to be. Its more fun that way.
o. Beauty and the Beast
Perhaps a more realistic take on Belle and the ‘beast’. 'Belle' is trapped with an alcoholic father who is slowly slipping into drug usage. Desperate to keep her finances in check to try and bring him from his alcoholism, she takes a job as an in-home maid to a rather ruthless and rude, wealthy young man at the end of town.
TV:
o. Penny Dreadful
I would LOVE you if you picked Penny... Been having some separation anxiety over the finale, and I want to end it the way /I/ want to end it!! D:
Ethan x Vanessa
Dorian x Vanessa
Dracula x Vanessa
Been going through some CRAZY stuff in my life lately, and writing has become a loverly distraction -- so I'm looking to take on a couple more roleplays in the near future!
ANYWAY!
I'm active - more so than I have been in the past, considering I finally found the charger to my laptop! I tend to speed post, and I'm on nearly every day. Needless to say, I don't want to bore any of you, so please see the below selections of particular roleplays I've enjoyed previously. ENTERTAIN ME!
A few rules - I prefer more mature roleplays, as many of my wants include dark undertones - so please, if you are under 18, do not take it personal that I will not participate. In addition, any of these roleplays can be taken to PM, or we can create a board, fade to black, continue the scene through PM, before returning to the board. Either way, that's up to you.
SO TAKE A LOOK! :)
I can be reached by PM here.
Thank you!
ROLEPLAYS!
Characters in BOLD are the ones which I'd prefer to play.
Vampire:
o. FxM
I am open to a ton under this genre - as long as your boys can deal with an angry, vengeful woman. :) do not think the parameters in my current intros are solid!!
Fledgling (F) x Sire (M)
Abandoned fledgling (F) x tutor (M)(someone who picked them up)
I adore love/hate relationships that evolve into something more far down the line.
Please see two introductions below for this RP:
The world is hard, the world is mean
It's hard to keep your conscience clean...
Hatred...
It was such a futile thing and yet it held such power all in the same. It had the capability to consume the soul; to engulf a person entirely and control every little move and action that they could ever think to make. Hatred was a driving force that no one could hide from, no matter how hard they tried. At least, that’s what Clara believed...
It had drifted through her veins and heated her with a flame that would possibly never die out. It forced her out of bed every single night; forced her through the town and down to the very spot where it all began - where she re-lived every bit of what drove her to its existence. She would never hide from it, nor could she manage even if she tried. It lifted off of each breath, dripped off of every spoken word, and existed not only on her gaze, but also dwelled deep within whatever heart that she might have had left. Yet, maybe her hatred was not as futile as it could have seemed. Hers had reason and meaning behind it - a hard and heavy meaning; One that only her, her sire, and the man who had brought her in had known. To everyone else, she was the hard bitch in town who disassociated herself with nearly everyone and mistreated her tutor every moment she could.
Her steps fell heavy on the cobblestone beneath her as she breathed in the salty and warm night air. It was all so very familiar and left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth. ‘We’ll only be here for a short while,’ he said... ‘Don’t get worked up, Clara, darling...’ Fuck him. Leave it to her tutor to bring her right back where it all began, as if she could simply move on and ignore the hard truth that lingered and haunted her down every street. He promised her that he only needed to retrieve a few odds and ends from his estate and to ensure that the land had been taken care of in his absence. Once he was satisfied, they could go.
If only it was that easy.
Why the hell did he think she would be able to keep herself in once piece there? Why the fuckdid he think she would be alright; that she wouldn’t hold on to a false hope that was held somewhere deep, deep inside; a hope that even she, herself, denied? To her, it had only been a hope to get her hands on that bastard once more and rip him into as many pieces as he had done to her heart that night -- But then again, perhaps it was something much, much more than that.
Her heels clicked much more loudly than she’d ever expected, but it had been late enough that no one other than the street rats and the young party-goers of the night would hear; if they even could through the haze of liquor and booze that hung off their bodies. Her lips twisted in disdain as she brushed them all by, headed deeper into town and towards the border - where cobblestone met wood and where wood met sand. The salty air blew through loose tendrils of her hair that had been continuously held tight in pins and curls. For that one moment she allowed her eyes to shut as that same breeze engulfed her, lifting her skirts from her ankles. It felt so wonderful and so horrible all in the same, for it was that very breeze interlaced with the sounds and smells of the ocean and sand that had sent her back immediately. It had been that realization that had caused her to roughly kick her heels off and sink her feet into the cool sand as she began her decent onto the beach.
The sea is calm, the sea is gray -
it washes everything away.
Clara Emerson... Sweet, sweet Clara Emerson. Where had that girl gone? Where had she been lost to so very long ago?
It had been there, right on that very beach. It had been there where she’d been robbed of her innocence in those few simple and fleeting moments. There, where she believed every lie that he could have told her, all because she had once been yearning for an escape. Oh, and what an escape he had given her. And yet, even then she was left alone with nothing but turmoil -- she still could not find the answers that she sought desperately.
”You listen to me girl. I have given you ample time. I have given you the freedom that other girls your age would never dare to dream of. You are going to allow the Duke to court you beginning tomorrow, and you will marry him.I will not have our family disgraced any longer. Do you hear me?”
She’d been a daughter of privilege, it had been true. Clara had at once been given the world, but it was not enough for her; it had hardly been enough. She had dreams that no other girl could imagine; dreams of far off places; dreams that were held within books that no one else would read. The girl had been found more than once, stealing away in her father’s library, keeping herself up for nights on end reading and absorbing any exciting new ideas that she could. And yet, there was no one to share it with; no one to speak to about it, because the fact of the matter was, she wasn’t supposed to speak. No matter how many boys had some along, no matter how many men had come along, each were more content with her silence than her words. What man would want their wife to have more of an opinion than they do on any subject? It simply was unheard of.
And the years came and the years went and Clara had found no one suitable enough for her. Yet, in the very end it wasn’t her decision. The townspeople had begun to talk; she’d heard the hushed murmurs of the wives and girls, wondering what was wrong with little Miss. Emerson - that she could not fetch a husband for herself.
”Well, she is quite odd, do you not think? The poor dear locks herself away at night.”
“Do you hear what she talks about? She lives in a man’s world... No one wants that!”
“Perhaps she’s barren... She is getting old enough. No one wants an old wife!”
It was a disgrace and her father had all at once left her in shambles that very last night; so much so that she felt the need to finally find her escape. She would rather run away and feed herself to the wolves than to be subjected to silence in a marriage that she did not yet want. So, Clara left; she stole away into the darkness that night under a heavy cloak with nowhere to go and no plan to follow. She simply walked and kept walking until she felt that she could walk no more. No one was around; no one had been there... She would be fine and she would be safe - no one would miss her.
Her steps had eventually slowed sometime along the night while her thoughts and heart had begun to race over what she’d actually done. Should someone come and find her, Clara had no idea what her father would do - nor did she want to dwell on it. She didn’t have time to dwell on it either as a shape came into view up ahead of her and her heart had practically stopped. Someone was there; perhaps someone to come and take her home...
Yet, what had confused her the most had been the fact that she’d felt that overwhelming fear for only a fleeting moment before she was consumed with an odd sense of calm; she had felt drawn and curious - something she couldn’t quite explain for the life of her. The man before her, as he drew closer, had been not only mesmerizing, but it was as if he consumed her soul all at once and she had let him.
Clara would eventually regret everything that happened that night, but she could have never known. All she knew in those few hours were of the conversations that she’d always wished she could have with the men in town. They spoke of distant lands, of sciences and math, of things she’d read and theorized about, but was never able to express. Everything she could ever want, she saw within him in those short hours. Perhaps that was why she had given herself over so very easily; why she suddenly felt the sand beneath her in a heated tousle of skin and fabric. She felt herself lost in him more than she could ever become lost in a person; from the sensations he gave her, to her racing heart, to the aching in her belly - she needed him and she wanted him.
And he gave her every bit of it... But he took much more than she could ever give him.
The pain had been fleeting before it became blinding, laced with the pleasure that still surged throughout her body. She at once became weak before she became overwhelmed, writhing on the sand before she felt him leave her... And he would not return.
Sink into the deep, cool and blue and kind-
Then drift off to sleep; let the past unwind.
Had it not been for her tutor that night, she would have died on that very beach come morning. Her sire had stolen away every bit of her innocence within moments and left her with an immortality that she had never wanted. Her fingers came up to trace the velvet ribbon held tightly around her neck before they clasped the emerald that hung carefully from it. Other than her immortality, it was the only fucking thing she had left of him; his mark. No matter how much she convinced herself to throw it in the ocean and be done with it all, she never could. He was still alive; something within her knew it very well.
And she would fucking kill him herself.
The question was, did he even remember her? And furthermore... would he ever reveal himself to her again?
Leave the hurt behind.
It's hard to keep your conscience clean...
Hatred...
It was such a futile thing and yet it held such power all in the same. It had the capability to consume the soul; to engulf a person entirely and control every little move and action that they could ever think to make. Hatred was a driving force that no one could hide from, no matter how hard they tried. At least, that’s what Clara believed...
It had drifted through her veins and heated her with a flame that would possibly never die out. It forced her out of bed every single night; forced her through the town and down to the very spot where it all began - where she re-lived every bit of what drove her to its existence. She would never hide from it, nor could she manage even if she tried. It lifted off of each breath, dripped off of every spoken word, and existed not only on her gaze, but also dwelled deep within whatever heart that she might have had left. Yet, maybe her hatred was not as futile as it could have seemed. Hers had reason and meaning behind it - a hard and heavy meaning; One that only her, her sire, and the man who had brought her in had known. To everyone else, she was the hard bitch in town who disassociated herself with nearly everyone and mistreated her tutor every moment she could.
Her steps fell heavy on the cobblestone beneath her as she breathed in the salty and warm night air. It was all so very familiar and left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth. ‘We’ll only be here for a short while,’ he said... ‘Don’t get worked up, Clara, darling...’ Fuck him. Leave it to her tutor to bring her right back where it all began, as if she could simply move on and ignore the hard truth that lingered and haunted her down every street. He promised her that he only needed to retrieve a few odds and ends from his estate and to ensure that the land had been taken care of in his absence. Once he was satisfied, they could go.
If only it was that easy.
Why the hell did he think she would be able to keep herself in once piece there? Why the fuckdid he think she would be alright; that she wouldn’t hold on to a false hope that was held somewhere deep, deep inside; a hope that even she, herself, denied? To her, it had only been a hope to get her hands on that bastard once more and rip him into as many pieces as he had done to her heart that night -- But then again, perhaps it was something much, much more than that.
Her heels clicked much more loudly than she’d ever expected, but it had been late enough that no one other than the street rats and the young party-goers of the night would hear; if they even could through the haze of liquor and booze that hung off their bodies. Her lips twisted in disdain as she brushed them all by, headed deeper into town and towards the border - where cobblestone met wood and where wood met sand. The salty air blew through loose tendrils of her hair that had been continuously held tight in pins and curls. For that one moment she allowed her eyes to shut as that same breeze engulfed her, lifting her skirts from her ankles. It felt so wonderful and so horrible all in the same, for it was that very breeze interlaced with the sounds and smells of the ocean and sand that had sent her back immediately. It had been that realization that had caused her to roughly kick her heels off and sink her feet into the cool sand as she began her decent onto the beach.
The sea is calm, the sea is gray -
it washes everything away.
Clara Emerson... Sweet, sweet Clara Emerson. Where had that girl gone? Where had she been lost to so very long ago?
It had been there, right on that very beach. It had been there where she’d been robbed of her innocence in those few simple and fleeting moments. There, where she believed every lie that he could have told her, all because she had once been yearning for an escape. Oh, and what an escape he had given her. And yet, even then she was left alone with nothing but turmoil -- she still could not find the answers that she sought desperately.
”You listen to me girl. I have given you ample time. I have given you the freedom that other girls your age would never dare to dream of. You are going to allow the Duke to court you beginning tomorrow, and you will marry him.I will not have our family disgraced any longer. Do you hear me?”
She’d been a daughter of privilege, it had been true. Clara had at once been given the world, but it was not enough for her; it had hardly been enough. She had dreams that no other girl could imagine; dreams of far off places; dreams that were held within books that no one else would read. The girl had been found more than once, stealing away in her father’s library, keeping herself up for nights on end reading and absorbing any exciting new ideas that she could. And yet, there was no one to share it with; no one to speak to about it, because the fact of the matter was, she wasn’t supposed to speak. No matter how many boys had some along, no matter how many men had come along, each were more content with her silence than her words. What man would want their wife to have more of an opinion than they do on any subject? It simply was unheard of.
And the years came and the years went and Clara had found no one suitable enough for her. Yet, in the very end it wasn’t her decision. The townspeople had begun to talk; she’d heard the hushed murmurs of the wives and girls, wondering what was wrong with little Miss. Emerson - that she could not fetch a husband for herself.
”Well, she is quite odd, do you not think? The poor dear locks herself away at night.”
“Do you hear what she talks about? She lives in a man’s world... No one wants that!”
“Perhaps she’s barren... She is getting old enough. No one wants an old wife!”
It was a disgrace and her father had all at once left her in shambles that very last night; so much so that she felt the need to finally find her escape. She would rather run away and feed herself to the wolves than to be subjected to silence in a marriage that she did not yet want. So, Clara left; she stole away into the darkness that night under a heavy cloak with nowhere to go and no plan to follow. She simply walked and kept walking until she felt that she could walk no more. No one was around; no one had been there... She would be fine and she would be safe - no one would miss her.
Her steps had eventually slowed sometime along the night while her thoughts and heart had begun to race over what she’d actually done. Should someone come and find her, Clara had no idea what her father would do - nor did she want to dwell on it. She didn’t have time to dwell on it either as a shape came into view up ahead of her and her heart had practically stopped. Someone was there; perhaps someone to come and take her home...
Yet, what had confused her the most had been the fact that she’d felt that overwhelming fear for only a fleeting moment before she was consumed with an odd sense of calm; she had felt drawn and curious - something she couldn’t quite explain for the life of her. The man before her, as he drew closer, had been not only mesmerizing, but it was as if he consumed her soul all at once and she had let him.
Clara would eventually regret everything that happened that night, but she could have never known. All she knew in those few hours were of the conversations that she’d always wished she could have with the men in town. They spoke of distant lands, of sciences and math, of things she’d read and theorized about, but was never able to express. Everything she could ever want, she saw within him in those short hours. Perhaps that was why she had given herself over so very easily; why she suddenly felt the sand beneath her in a heated tousle of skin and fabric. She felt herself lost in him more than she could ever become lost in a person; from the sensations he gave her, to her racing heart, to the aching in her belly - she needed him and she wanted him.
And he gave her every bit of it... But he took much more than she could ever give him.
The pain had been fleeting before it became blinding, laced with the pleasure that still surged throughout her body. She at once became weak before she became overwhelmed, writhing on the sand before she felt him leave her... And he would not return.
Sink into the deep, cool and blue and kind-
Then drift off to sleep; let the past unwind.
Had it not been for her tutor that night, she would have died on that very beach come morning. Her sire had stolen away every bit of her innocence within moments and left her with an immortality that she had never wanted. Her fingers came up to trace the velvet ribbon held tightly around her neck before they clasped the emerald that hung carefully from it. Other than her immortality, it was the only fucking thing she had left of him; his mark. No matter how much she convinced herself to throw it in the ocean and be done with it all, she never could. He was still alive; something within her knew it very well.
And she would fucking kill him herself.
The question was, did he even remember her? And furthermore... would he ever reveal himself to her again?
Leave the hurt behind.
I still remember the world
From the eyes of a child…
Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now…
Memories –
They could be such wonderful things just as much as they could become torturous and repetitive. They could either send a person into euphoria, remembering all that was once overwhelming in delight , or they could come crashing down around them in the never-ending waves of pain that continued to dig through open wounds. They'd been few and far – the good memories all the while the others were overbearing and would never seem to fade no matter how much she'd tried to fight them; no matter how much she'd lied to herself in an effort to alter them; to get her to believe in something altogether different. Perhaps a lie would help her sleep throughout the rest of her nights into her days. Perhaps that lie would bring her some peace.
If only she could make herself believe in it.
What had been left in the wake of that memory was the shell of a girl that she once was. No more was she the sweet, young woman whom only sought out to make her dreams a reality throughout the demanding world of her father – that girl had been long gone, murdered and the pieces scattered throughout the warm sand of the shore that she'd once been left upon. What had been left behind was a bitter young female intent on causing hell wherever she'd gone. If she had to suffer each and every night in her own personal hell, then she was committed to making others around her feel her pain. Perhaps it had been much to the dismay of her own tutor whom had taken her in – she'd taking a liking to personally torment him with how difficult she'd become. Eventually, she'd assumed, he would leave her just as quick as she once was left – and she was determined to push him as far away as she could.
It only frustrated her further that he continued to stay – and not only that, but doted on her to try and make her as happy as she once was. He should have understood, at least by then, that it was a lost cause.
She could hardly help it. Clara Emerson was once a young girl of privilege, trapped in a society that forced its beliefs and patterns upon her. Had it been up to them, she would have been married to whoever held the best title and whoever could secure a future for herself and her own family. Love was not an option – hell, even friendship was hardly an option. If love did form out of the marriage between the two, it was either out of sheer luck or simply dealing with one another for long enough that something eventually fell into place.
The years had come and gone and Clara had hardly given anyone the time of day. There was no one suitable enough for her; no one that she could share her passions with; share her dreams. She'd wanted to travel the world; wanted to see much of what was out there instead of being locked up as someone's silent wife, reproducing on a whim to keep the family strong and full. She did not want to be trapped in her own hell of a home with a man whom she did not and could not love – a man who would snuff out her dreams the very moment they'd said their vows.
That was not a future that she'd wanted, and Clara had fought it tooth and nail until her father was no longer able to bend to her whims. It was already bad enough that she'd reached 18 and had yet to marry – the people in town had begun to talk and it eventually found its way upon her father's ear. There had been rumors that she must have been barren – that no man had wanted a wife that old, especially one who could not produce the heir to the family. There were also rumors that she'd been mad – lost away in a fantasy world of her books and library – what man would want a woman who sought out more knowledge than he had known himself? Or maybe it was that she was just a rotten female, one who could not keep the company of whichever man sought to have her hand. Regardless of the rumor, regardless of how harsh they could be, her father would soon have none of that nonsense floating around his family name.
It was only a matter of time before her borrowed time would come to an end – she could see him unraveling, coming undone right before her very eyes before he'd lost his patience with her one last time.
"You listen to me, girl. I've given you ample time – I've given you every little thing your heart desires and yet you still do not take a husband. I know you hear them – everyone out there talking about you, talking about me! This cannot go on any longer, Clara. You will allow the Duke to court you come morning, and you will marry him – You have no choice. Do you want to continue destroying our family name? He will be able to provide for you, and in turn, the family will be secure in our own future as well. Do you understand?! "
Clara had understood full well. She'd understood that the world around her was collapsing with each panicked breath that left her chest the moment her father had walked out of that room. She was fully aware of what was to meet her the next morning; of what life was promised should she marry that awful man. She'd nearly felt her heart fall from her chest and onto the floor in front of her as she fought to calm herself from the inevitable fear and panic of what the future held for her. It was nothing that she wanted, and she needed to run – she needed to get far away from it, from her father, from everyone who could say anything about her. Let them talk in her absence, but she would never allow them to say it to her face.
Where has my heart gone?
An uneven trade for the real world
Oh I… I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all…
It was within that fright and overwhelming anxiety that Clara found herself in her room in an instant, packing whatever she could into a bag. Clothes, photos, anything that might hold some sentimental value that she did not want to leave behind. She hadn't a plan or idea in the world what she was doing – all she knew was that she needed to get away, and fast. The quicker she ran, the father she could get without her father sending someone out to fetch her. She was aware of the dangers of running; of the risk she put herself at – a mere young girl out in the darkness of the night with hardly an idea on how to defend herself, whether it be from creature or man. She'd no idea where she was going or where she was going to end up – she just knew she needed to vanish..
Little did she know, it really would be the last time she'd spoken to her father or her family.
Her quick steps had led her through the chill of the night under cover of her cloak. She'd ran without taking a break- the loud sounds of her heels echoing against the cobblestone with each hurried step, the only sounds that reached her ears. There were others, eventually tumbling out of the taverns late at night; others who had been left to rot in the alleyways, unable to fend for themselves any longer. There were others who could have seen her as a piece of meat, and perhaps would have gone after her had the drunken few not been around.
Clara had ignored them all.
Her steps had eventually led her to softer ground, soon the calming sounds of the ocean against her ears instead of the offending drunkards and whistles of the night. It was here that she'd finally stopped; finally had taken a breath regardless of the fact that her lungs had felt as if they'd ignited in flames.
It was here that she'd made the worst decision of her life.
Clara hadn't noticed him at first – she'd felt entirely overwhelmed by not only the decision that she'd just made on a whim, but the sudden uncertainty of what was to come. She'd felt the tears pull at the corner of her eyes as she brushed them away fervently. She'd barely felt herself head even closer to the dark waters ahead before her shoes had slipped off and she felt the cold around her feet; felt the water dragging down the edges of her skirts.
It had been his touch that had awoken her from her stupor, the sudden gentle hand against her back almost only there to startle her into the present once more. And oddly enough, she hadn't run – no, she'd done enough running then, Clara determined. Something had kept her planted there, the sand shifting beneath her feet just as each wave came up around her toes. She'd known nothing of the mistakes that she'd already made that night – all of it seemed so very far away just as suddenly as that man had entered into her life.
What had followed still had her questioning its reality centuries down the road. The conversations; the comfort – something about the male had her calm and forgetful of her sudden fears; he made her believe it would all be alright; that her decision to run had not been as much of a mistake as it had been a gift.
Hours had felt like minutes upon that beach – basking in each other's presence, her wonder almost child-like over the man who seemed to want to stay within her company more than any other from the town whom had wanted to court her. Where had he been all of this time she'd been worrying; panicking about the future her father would force upon her? Was he even real – or had this all been a hopeful dream that she'd been thrust into after the exhaustion of her father's revelation?
Words had eventually melted into actions – everything she could have ever hoped for had been there, in him. Perhaps that was why she was able to give herself over so freely – why it hadn't even been a mere doubt in her mind – the passion suddenly between them. She could remember the euphoria, remember the feel of the heat between them, the sand against her skin, the absolute abandon that she'd felt with him all at once – and yet, she also could remember the sudden pain that melted into all of it – and the sudden sense of absolute loneliness and fear once she did awake in someone else's arms.
I still remember the sun
Always warm on my back.
Somehow it seems colder now…
If her tutor had not been around that night, she knew her existence would have been short. Clara would have either died on the beach that night, victim to her own new hunger and the incapability to satiate it the way she needed to. She would have gone back into that down and ripped it apart person by person if she'd been allowed to – until someone had destroyed her just as quickly… But he'd been there for her; there to pick her up and take her in; train her the way she needed to be trained… But it just never was what she'd needed – nothing could fill the ache that she'd always felt lingering in her soul – something had been missing after that night and it was the one thing her tutor could never give her.
-
Clara felt a slow sigh fall from her painted lips as she looked up at the mansion ahead of her. Soft music was already lifting through opened windows and doors and she'd felt her body tense. Another night of endless parties that her tutor had dragged her along to. Perhaps he'd thought the interactions with others would cheer her up. All these parties had continued to do was remind her of the void within her. No matter how many dances she'd partaken in; no matter how many mindless conversations or glasses of wine to warm her – nothing would put an end to that damned ache within her – no matter how much she'd tried to make others feel it; no matter how much she tried to make them suffer like she had… No one understood.
Her bright green eyes glared upon the offending house as she felt her tutor's arm slip into hers. "Come now, darling. Try to enjoy yourself tonight." His words were soft against her ear, but she hadn't looked at him. She'd merely taken one step in a time as he'd led her to the front doors. "You might as well give it the hell up." Clara reminded him with a hiss, receiving only a sigh from the man next to her.
She knew it was bound to happen, but her tutor had eventually broken away from her and she was thankful for it. She'd made a beeline to find a glass of wine, weaving through the multiple colors of skirts and suits that had been so happily chattering and dancing away. Masquerades hadn't necessarily been her thing – hell, parties weren't entirely her thing – but at least here she could play the part. Here, she could be whomever she wanted, hiding behind a black mask of lace. There were plenty of strangers here, plenty of people she could manipulate if she'd wanted to – it would be a game of cat and mouse.
As Clara found a glass, she'd lifted the dark liquid to her lips slowly, her steps taking her towards one of the far walls to observe the crowds around her. She'd idly toyed with the blue silk of her skirts, the beading that lined her corset, before her fingers found their way to the pendant around her neck. Why it remained there was truly beyond her; why she hadn't tossed it into the ocean that night was more of a mystery to her than anything. He'd left it for her – the only damn thing she had left of that one night that had changed everything. He'd stolen it all from her; her life, her innocence, her dreams – and left only a god damn necklace in his wake. If she had it her way; if her tutor would cease all of this nonsense in trying to distract her, she would search for him during every waking moment; she would make him pay for the hell that he'd made her live; for the broken promises; for all of the pain he'd caused her.
The frown continued to curl against her lips as she took in the sights, the loud music upon her ears as she'd watched countless bodies swirl and bend to the music in sync. It was going to be one hell of a long night… And she needed to find some form of entertainment should she choose to stay.
Where has my heart gone
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger
Oh I... I want to go back to
Believing in everything.
From the eyes of a child…
Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now…
Memories –
They could be such wonderful things just as much as they could become torturous and repetitive. They could either send a person into euphoria, remembering all that was once overwhelming in delight , or they could come crashing down around them in the never-ending waves of pain that continued to dig through open wounds. They'd been few and far – the good memories all the while the others were overbearing and would never seem to fade no matter how much she'd tried to fight them; no matter how much she'd lied to herself in an effort to alter them; to get her to believe in something altogether different. Perhaps a lie would help her sleep throughout the rest of her nights into her days. Perhaps that lie would bring her some peace.
If only she could make herself believe in it.
What had been left in the wake of that memory was the shell of a girl that she once was. No more was she the sweet, young woman whom only sought out to make her dreams a reality throughout the demanding world of her father – that girl had been long gone, murdered and the pieces scattered throughout the warm sand of the shore that she'd once been left upon. What had been left behind was a bitter young female intent on causing hell wherever she'd gone. If she had to suffer each and every night in her own personal hell, then she was committed to making others around her feel her pain. Perhaps it had been much to the dismay of her own tutor whom had taken her in – she'd taking a liking to personally torment him with how difficult she'd become. Eventually, she'd assumed, he would leave her just as quick as she once was left – and she was determined to push him as far away as she could.
It only frustrated her further that he continued to stay – and not only that, but doted on her to try and make her as happy as she once was. He should have understood, at least by then, that it was a lost cause.
She could hardly help it. Clara Emerson was once a young girl of privilege, trapped in a society that forced its beliefs and patterns upon her. Had it been up to them, she would have been married to whoever held the best title and whoever could secure a future for herself and her own family. Love was not an option – hell, even friendship was hardly an option. If love did form out of the marriage between the two, it was either out of sheer luck or simply dealing with one another for long enough that something eventually fell into place.
The years had come and gone and Clara had hardly given anyone the time of day. There was no one suitable enough for her; no one that she could share her passions with; share her dreams. She'd wanted to travel the world; wanted to see much of what was out there instead of being locked up as someone's silent wife, reproducing on a whim to keep the family strong and full. She did not want to be trapped in her own hell of a home with a man whom she did not and could not love – a man who would snuff out her dreams the very moment they'd said their vows.
That was not a future that she'd wanted, and Clara had fought it tooth and nail until her father was no longer able to bend to her whims. It was already bad enough that she'd reached 18 and had yet to marry – the people in town had begun to talk and it eventually found its way upon her father's ear. There had been rumors that she must have been barren – that no man had wanted a wife that old, especially one who could not produce the heir to the family. There were also rumors that she'd been mad – lost away in a fantasy world of her books and library – what man would want a woman who sought out more knowledge than he had known himself? Or maybe it was that she was just a rotten female, one who could not keep the company of whichever man sought to have her hand. Regardless of the rumor, regardless of how harsh they could be, her father would soon have none of that nonsense floating around his family name.
It was only a matter of time before her borrowed time would come to an end – she could see him unraveling, coming undone right before her very eyes before he'd lost his patience with her one last time.
"You listen to me, girl. I've given you ample time – I've given you every little thing your heart desires and yet you still do not take a husband. I know you hear them – everyone out there talking about you, talking about me! This cannot go on any longer, Clara. You will allow the Duke to court you come morning, and you will marry him – You have no choice. Do you want to continue destroying our family name? He will be able to provide for you, and in turn, the family will be secure in our own future as well. Do you understand?! "
Clara had understood full well. She'd understood that the world around her was collapsing with each panicked breath that left her chest the moment her father had walked out of that room. She was fully aware of what was to meet her the next morning; of what life was promised should she marry that awful man. She'd nearly felt her heart fall from her chest and onto the floor in front of her as she fought to calm herself from the inevitable fear and panic of what the future held for her. It was nothing that she wanted, and she needed to run – she needed to get far away from it, from her father, from everyone who could say anything about her. Let them talk in her absence, but she would never allow them to say it to her face.
Where has my heart gone?
An uneven trade for the real world
Oh I… I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all…
It was within that fright and overwhelming anxiety that Clara found herself in her room in an instant, packing whatever she could into a bag. Clothes, photos, anything that might hold some sentimental value that she did not want to leave behind. She hadn't a plan or idea in the world what she was doing – all she knew was that she needed to get away, and fast. The quicker she ran, the father she could get without her father sending someone out to fetch her. She was aware of the dangers of running; of the risk she put herself at – a mere young girl out in the darkness of the night with hardly an idea on how to defend herself, whether it be from creature or man. She'd no idea where she was going or where she was going to end up – she just knew she needed to vanish..
Little did she know, it really would be the last time she'd spoken to her father or her family.
Her quick steps had led her through the chill of the night under cover of her cloak. She'd ran without taking a break- the loud sounds of her heels echoing against the cobblestone with each hurried step, the only sounds that reached her ears. There were others, eventually tumbling out of the taverns late at night; others who had been left to rot in the alleyways, unable to fend for themselves any longer. There were others who could have seen her as a piece of meat, and perhaps would have gone after her had the drunken few not been around.
Clara had ignored them all.
Her steps had eventually led her to softer ground, soon the calming sounds of the ocean against her ears instead of the offending drunkards and whistles of the night. It was here that she'd finally stopped; finally had taken a breath regardless of the fact that her lungs had felt as if they'd ignited in flames.
It was here that she'd made the worst decision of her life.
Clara hadn't noticed him at first – she'd felt entirely overwhelmed by not only the decision that she'd just made on a whim, but the sudden uncertainty of what was to come. She'd felt the tears pull at the corner of her eyes as she brushed them away fervently. She'd barely felt herself head even closer to the dark waters ahead before her shoes had slipped off and she felt the cold around her feet; felt the water dragging down the edges of her skirts.
It had been his touch that had awoken her from her stupor, the sudden gentle hand against her back almost only there to startle her into the present once more. And oddly enough, she hadn't run – no, she'd done enough running then, Clara determined. Something had kept her planted there, the sand shifting beneath her feet just as each wave came up around her toes. She'd known nothing of the mistakes that she'd already made that night – all of it seemed so very far away just as suddenly as that man had entered into her life.
What had followed still had her questioning its reality centuries down the road. The conversations; the comfort – something about the male had her calm and forgetful of her sudden fears; he made her believe it would all be alright; that her decision to run had not been as much of a mistake as it had been a gift.
Hours had felt like minutes upon that beach – basking in each other's presence, her wonder almost child-like over the man who seemed to want to stay within her company more than any other from the town whom had wanted to court her. Where had he been all of this time she'd been worrying; panicking about the future her father would force upon her? Was he even real – or had this all been a hopeful dream that she'd been thrust into after the exhaustion of her father's revelation?
Words had eventually melted into actions – everything she could have ever hoped for had been there, in him. Perhaps that was why she was able to give herself over so freely – why it hadn't even been a mere doubt in her mind – the passion suddenly between them. She could remember the euphoria, remember the feel of the heat between them, the sand against her skin, the absolute abandon that she'd felt with him all at once – and yet, she also could remember the sudden pain that melted into all of it – and the sudden sense of absolute loneliness and fear once she did awake in someone else's arms.
I still remember the sun
Always warm on my back.
Somehow it seems colder now…
If her tutor had not been around that night, she knew her existence would have been short. Clara would have either died on the beach that night, victim to her own new hunger and the incapability to satiate it the way she needed to. She would have gone back into that down and ripped it apart person by person if she'd been allowed to – until someone had destroyed her just as quickly… But he'd been there for her; there to pick her up and take her in; train her the way she needed to be trained… But it just never was what she'd needed – nothing could fill the ache that she'd always felt lingering in her soul – something had been missing after that night and it was the one thing her tutor could never give her.
-
Clara felt a slow sigh fall from her painted lips as she looked up at the mansion ahead of her. Soft music was already lifting through opened windows and doors and she'd felt her body tense. Another night of endless parties that her tutor had dragged her along to. Perhaps he'd thought the interactions with others would cheer her up. All these parties had continued to do was remind her of the void within her. No matter how many dances she'd partaken in; no matter how many mindless conversations or glasses of wine to warm her – nothing would put an end to that damned ache within her – no matter how much she'd tried to make others feel it; no matter how much she tried to make them suffer like she had… No one understood.
Her bright green eyes glared upon the offending house as she felt her tutor's arm slip into hers. "Come now, darling. Try to enjoy yourself tonight." His words were soft against her ear, but she hadn't looked at him. She'd merely taken one step in a time as he'd led her to the front doors. "You might as well give it the hell up." Clara reminded him with a hiss, receiving only a sigh from the man next to her.
She knew it was bound to happen, but her tutor had eventually broken away from her and she was thankful for it. She'd made a beeline to find a glass of wine, weaving through the multiple colors of skirts and suits that had been so happily chattering and dancing away. Masquerades hadn't necessarily been her thing – hell, parties weren't entirely her thing – but at least here she could play the part. Here, she could be whomever she wanted, hiding behind a black mask of lace. There were plenty of strangers here, plenty of people she could manipulate if she'd wanted to – it would be a game of cat and mouse.
As Clara found a glass, she'd lifted the dark liquid to her lips slowly, her steps taking her towards one of the far walls to observe the crowds around her. She'd idly toyed with the blue silk of her skirts, the beading that lined her corset, before her fingers found their way to the pendant around her neck. Why it remained there was truly beyond her; why she hadn't tossed it into the ocean that night was more of a mystery to her than anything. He'd left it for her – the only damn thing she had left of that one night that had changed everything. He'd stolen it all from her; her life, her innocence, her dreams – and left only a god damn necklace in his wake. If she had it her way; if her tutor would cease all of this nonsense in trying to distract her, she would search for him during every waking moment; she would make him pay for the hell that he'd made her live; for the broken promises; for all of the pain he'd caused her.
The frown continued to curl against her lips as she took in the sights, the loud music upon her ears as she'd watched countless bodies swirl and bend to the music in sync. It was going to be one hell of a long night… And she needed to find some form of entertainment should she choose to stay.
Where has my heart gone
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger
Oh I... I want to go back to
Believing in everything.
Movies:
o. Phantom of the Opera
Erik x Christine
This is the only couple I adore. Screw Raoul. He sucks. Haha
I've read both Leroux & Kay versions of the story, plus have seen the stage production/movie/Love Never Dies. So I'd plan on doing a mix of those characters quirks.
o. Jekyll and Hyde
Dr. Jekyll/Hyde x Lucy
As you can see, I steer towards the couples that were never meant to be. Its more fun that way.
o. Beauty and the Beast
Perhaps a more realistic take on Belle and the ‘beast’. 'Belle' is trapped with an alcoholic father who is slowly slipping into drug usage. Desperate to keep her finances in check to try and bring him from his alcoholism, she takes a job as an in-home maid to a rather ruthless and rude, wealthy young man at the end of town.
You won't cry for my absence, I know.
You forgot me long ago.
She was a simple girl in a simple town – or rather, a town that was close to places that were hardly simple. New York City was only a car’s drive away and yet no one ever put a thought towards Mount Vernon – a town so close and yet so far. Perfectly fitting for the girl whose dreams were so close to that. They were always in an arm’s reach and yet they would never get farther than the wall of her home. A shame – she seemed so promising and pretty, didn’t she? She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders: full of ideas and smiles that never seemed to fade regardless of what was going on around her. Oh, if only they knew what lie behind closed doors. But no one really cared in Mount Vernon, did they? It was a quaint little town full of perfect little houses where no one bothered one another – no matter what they may have heard or seen at night; no matter what glimpse of a life behind the door they could have gotten. No; Alyssa was just sweet little Alyssa, taking care of her poor father who never could cope with the death of his wife. She was capable; and she would be okay.
They would never really know about the trouble and chaos that poor Alyssa DePiew dealt with from the moment her mother had been lost.
It was difficult; she was meant to be daddy’s little girl, and perhaps she had become that in the long run. He just didn’t know it yet – or rather, the liquor was enough to fog his vision so that he would never know it. She was torn; struggling to love her father and yet wanting to escape all in the same. Any other person would have taken off running, but she was too good for that, wasn’t she? Alyssa couldn’t abandon her father any more than she could fathom running away even for a moment.
She’d matured far too much, too soon, because of her father.
The man was a mess, left without a wife and blind to the daughter that he still had left. Alcohol became his only companion. He fell and fell, deep into an abyss in which Alyssa could no longer reach him, nor could she even try if she wanted to. He was nothing without his wife and soon began to deteriorate under layers and layers of liquid. Alyssa was left to pick up the pieces and attempt to place them together, but how could you piece together something that did not want to be fixed? Poor Alyssa; Sweet Alyssa, left with the immense debt of her father throughout his substance abuse; card after card applied for and maxed out. Bill after bill, torn up and ignored – cursed at and spit at as if it would send the nagging collectors away. And the house – the house still held an immense amount of debt that needed to be paid, or else they wouldn’t have a place to stay.
But he didn’t care, did he?
It was inevitable that Alyssa had to venture to work every day – perhaps her only real escape without the necessity to run away. It was there where she would bury her head in books in hopes to chase away the worry of her father drowning in his own vomit, or accidentally killing himself from over-consumption. It was only at the end of the day did she feel the familiar pang of worry in her stomach before she’d set foot back in her own home. But he’d always be there- passed out, drunk off his ass, with nothing to say for himself other than a messy house.
Michael DePiew had withered away into a shell of a man and Alyssa was left to carry him along. It was a wonder she had gotten through her own mother’s death by herself, or perhaps she hadn’t even had time to grieve. She already lost one parent and she was thrust into the inevitable concern about losing another in a moment’s time. She already knew she would if he continued to keep up his binge drinking in order to numb the pain.
He became her burden just as much as she became his. As far as he knew, she was not his daughter. She was a nagging bitch who wouldn’t let him grieve over Mary – Oh, Mary… his beautiful wife. Why the fuck did she have to go so soon? Why the hell did that bastard take her?
The smell became horrible in the house; old beer and liquor wouldn’t quite come out of the carpet no matter how much she scrubbed and scrubbed. The cans wouldn’t go away no matter how many times she’d picked them up. The bills continued to pile and pile and every night she would have to make dinner for a father who didn’t want to eat, nor did he want her there.
Poor, sweet Alyssa was becoming a prisoner of her own home.
Am I that unimportant?
Am I so insignificant?
It wasn't until one night that Alyssa finally snapped.
“GODDAMNIT, LISSA! WHERE DID YOU HIDE MY FUCKING BEER!?”
“I didn’t put it anywhere, dad. You drank it all this morning.”
“Don’t lie to me, you little bitch. Where are the fucking cans?!”
There had been no reaction to his harsh words; almost as if Alyssa had become her own shell of a woman. No; she’d been used to his slander; used to his harsh touch. It was only a matter of time before he snapped again over her cleaning her own home, or trying to cook him food. No matter how much she wanted to, she hadn’t taken his alcohol. He honestly had consumed it all within the morning hours and it seemed, the moment he’d sobered up, was the moment he realized they were gone. She sat at her kitchen table, nibbling at whichever sandwich she could put together as she dryly eyed a stack of bills that she’d been ignoring the week before.
“Go to bed, dad. You’ve had enough tonight. “ Her voice had been so soft; so quiet and gentle and yet it seemed as if she hadn’t cared in the least. She was going through the motions… Just like she had every other night prior. And yet, no amount of concentration could have kept her eyes on her table as she felt herself lifted and felt the sudden jolt against her shoulder as she came in contact with the wall next to her. The chair had fallen out beneath her somewhere and the table had shifted with an unruly sound against her hardwood floors. Her breath had lifted from her lungs for a temporary moment and all she’d seen was a white flash as her vision slowly returned in her painful shock.
“Don’t give me that shit! Tell me where the fuck they are!” He loomed over her in that moment, leaving her to look up at him with a new resolve through hazy vision as her breath began to fill her lungs again.
“What the hell? Touch me again, dad, and I’m calling the cops! They’ll take you away this time, I promise you!”
“Go ahead, ya little shit. They won’t believe your lying ass anyway.”
On the contrary, his cool and careless words couldn’t be farther from the truth. The police had been quite familiar with Alyssa and her situation with her father. No matter how many times she hadn’t pressed charges, they insisted for her own safety. Without a doubt, they were drooling to get their hands on him. And she’d been right. The moment she called, they’d been there and they were in the least bit gentle, ripping him out of that house.
And once more, she was left to clean up the pieces, aching in his wake.
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me…
Within the passing days, Alyssa would come to realize that her father had been guilty of substance abuse on top of his alcoholism. He’d been sentenced to a few weeks in prison and on top of that, would be sent off to rehabilitation. It would only give Alyssa the breather she needed, and the time to actually focus on the debt and mess she was left with.
It wouldn’t be long before she found a job; an odd one at that. Something caught her off guard with the way she wasn’t asked for a resume, nor was she subjected to a background check. It was almost as if they were desperate for help. An in-home maid service. Really, how horrible could that be? But with how quick they were to take her in to at least interview her, Alyssa had an awful feeling that it could very well be one of the worst jobs she’d applied for. Either way, they would pay her far more than anything else that was local would offer, so Alyssa hardly had a choice.
It was Monday morning when she found herself in front of the large oak doors that seemed to dwarf her in a mere second. She'd clutched a portfolio folder to her chest as she faltered for a moment. One moment - she needed an extra moment to make sure she looked professional enough. Her gaze fell to her black pants that had been ironed neatly and she made sure her white blouse had been buttoned correctly and tucked in her pants without a wrinkle. Her heart was pounding in her head and yet it felt like it had fallen somewhere on the ground by her feet.
Alright, Alyssa….
One, two, three…
And she knocked.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone...
You forgot me long ago.
She was a simple girl in a simple town – or rather, a town that was close to places that were hardly simple. New York City was only a car’s drive away and yet no one ever put a thought towards Mount Vernon – a town so close and yet so far. Perfectly fitting for the girl whose dreams were so close to that. They were always in an arm’s reach and yet they would never get farther than the wall of her home. A shame – she seemed so promising and pretty, didn’t she? She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders: full of ideas and smiles that never seemed to fade regardless of what was going on around her. Oh, if only they knew what lie behind closed doors. But no one really cared in Mount Vernon, did they? It was a quaint little town full of perfect little houses where no one bothered one another – no matter what they may have heard or seen at night; no matter what glimpse of a life behind the door they could have gotten. No; Alyssa was just sweet little Alyssa, taking care of her poor father who never could cope with the death of his wife. She was capable; and she would be okay.
They would never really know about the trouble and chaos that poor Alyssa DePiew dealt with from the moment her mother had been lost.
It was difficult; she was meant to be daddy’s little girl, and perhaps she had become that in the long run. He just didn’t know it yet – or rather, the liquor was enough to fog his vision so that he would never know it. She was torn; struggling to love her father and yet wanting to escape all in the same. Any other person would have taken off running, but she was too good for that, wasn’t she? Alyssa couldn’t abandon her father any more than she could fathom running away even for a moment.
She’d matured far too much, too soon, because of her father.
The man was a mess, left without a wife and blind to the daughter that he still had left. Alcohol became his only companion. He fell and fell, deep into an abyss in which Alyssa could no longer reach him, nor could she even try if she wanted to. He was nothing without his wife and soon began to deteriorate under layers and layers of liquid. Alyssa was left to pick up the pieces and attempt to place them together, but how could you piece together something that did not want to be fixed? Poor Alyssa; Sweet Alyssa, left with the immense debt of her father throughout his substance abuse; card after card applied for and maxed out. Bill after bill, torn up and ignored – cursed at and spit at as if it would send the nagging collectors away. And the house – the house still held an immense amount of debt that needed to be paid, or else they wouldn’t have a place to stay.
But he didn’t care, did he?
It was inevitable that Alyssa had to venture to work every day – perhaps her only real escape without the necessity to run away. It was there where she would bury her head in books in hopes to chase away the worry of her father drowning in his own vomit, or accidentally killing himself from over-consumption. It was only at the end of the day did she feel the familiar pang of worry in her stomach before she’d set foot back in her own home. But he’d always be there- passed out, drunk off his ass, with nothing to say for himself other than a messy house.
Michael DePiew had withered away into a shell of a man and Alyssa was left to carry him along. It was a wonder she had gotten through her own mother’s death by herself, or perhaps she hadn’t even had time to grieve. She already lost one parent and she was thrust into the inevitable concern about losing another in a moment’s time. She already knew she would if he continued to keep up his binge drinking in order to numb the pain.
He became her burden just as much as she became his. As far as he knew, she was not his daughter. She was a nagging bitch who wouldn’t let him grieve over Mary – Oh, Mary… his beautiful wife. Why the fuck did she have to go so soon? Why the hell did that bastard take her?
The smell became horrible in the house; old beer and liquor wouldn’t quite come out of the carpet no matter how much she scrubbed and scrubbed. The cans wouldn’t go away no matter how many times she’d picked them up. The bills continued to pile and pile and every night she would have to make dinner for a father who didn’t want to eat, nor did he want her there.
Poor, sweet Alyssa was becoming a prisoner of her own home.
Am I that unimportant?
Am I so insignificant?
It wasn't until one night that Alyssa finally snapped.
“GODDAMNIT, LISSA! WHERE DID YOU HIDE MY FUCKING BEER!?”
“I didn’t put it anywhere, dad. You drank it all this morning.”
“Don’t lie to me, you little bitch. Where are the fucking cans?!”
There had been no reaction to his harsh words; almost as if Alyssa had become her own shell of a woman. No; she’d been used to his slander; used to his harsh touch. It was only a matter of time before he snapped again over her cleaning her own home, or trying to cook him food. No matter how much she wanted to, she hadn’t taken his alcohol. He honestly had consumed it all within the morning hours and it seemed, the moment he’d sobered up, was the moment he realized they were gone. She sat at her kitchen table, nibbling at whichever sandwich she could put together as she dryly eyed a stack of bills that she’d been ignoring the week before.
“Go to bed, dad. You’ve had enough tonight. “ Her voice had been so soft; so quiet and gentle and yet it seemed as if she hadn’t cared in the least. She was going through the motions… Just like she had every other night prior. And yet, no amount of concentration could have kept her eyes on her table as she felt herself lifted and felt the sudden jolt against her shoulder as she came in contact with the wall next to her. The chair had fallen out beneath her somewhere and the table had shifted with an unruly sound against her hardwood floors. Her breath had lifted from her lungs for a temporary moment and all she’d seen was a white flash as her vision slowly returned in her painful shock.
“Don’t give me that shit! Tell me where the fuck they are!” He loomed over her in that moment, leaving her to look up at him with a new resolve through hazy vision as her breath began to fill her lungs again.
“What the hell? Touch me again, dad, and I’m calling the cops! They’ll take you away this time, I promise you!”
“Go ahead, ya little shit. They won’t believe your lying ass anyway.”
On the contrary, his cool and careless words couldn’t be farther from the truth. The police had been quite familiar with Alyssa and her situation with her father. No matter how many times she hadn’t pressed charges, they insisted for her own safety. Without a doubt, they were drooling to get their hands on him. And she’d been right. The moment she called, they’d been there and they were in the least bit gentle, ripping him out of that house.
And once more, she was left to clean up the pieces, aching in his wake.
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me…
Within the passing days, Alyssa would come to realize that her father had been guilty of substance abuse on top of his alcoholism. He’d been sentenced to a few weeks in prison and on top of that, would be sent off to rehabilitation. It would only give Alyssa the breather she needed, and the time to actually focus on the debt and mess she was left with.
It wouldn’t be long before she found a job; an odd one at that. Something caught her off guard with the way she wasn’t asked for a resume, nor was she subjected to a background check. It was almost as if they were desperate for help. An in-home maid service. Really, how horrible could that be? But with how quick they were to take her in to at least interview her, Alyssa had an awful feeling that it could very well be one of the worst jobs she’d applied for. Either way, they would pay her far more than anything else that was local would offer, so Alyssa hardly had a choice.
It was Monday morning when she found herself in front of the large oak doors that seemed to dwarf her in a mere second. She'd clutched a portfolio folder to her chest as she faltered for a moment. One moment - she needed an extra moment to make sure she looked professional enough. Her gaze fell to her black pants that had been ironed neatly and she made sure her white blouse had been buttoned correctly and tucked in her pants without a wrinkle. Her heart was pounding in her head and yet it felt like it had fallen somewhere on the ground by her feet.
Alright, Alyssa….
One, two, three…
And she knocked.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone...
TV:
o. Penny Dreadful
I would LOVE you if you picked Penny... Been having some separation anxiety over the finale, and I want to end it the way /I/ want to end it!! D:
Ethan x Vanessa
Dorian x Vanessa
Dracula x Vanessa
