Post by Miss Lucy on Feb 26, 2011 20:29:55 GMT -5
Name: Malenka "Lenka" Wiater
Age: 14
Grade level: Freshman
Physical appearance: I am a tall blonde girl with boyish shoulders and a sharp face with a wide mouth, straight nose and narrow grey eyes. My hair is short and platinum blonde, burned even lighter by the sun that has also tanned my skin and made it freckly due to all the time I have been outside. My hobbies, jogging and soccer, have gifted me with a good physical condition and some muscle tone.
Diagnosed psychological disorder: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dissociative Systematized amnesia.
Past: Believe it or not, my life started well. My parents loved each other dearly. Of course they had their problems. However, they got along and got me, and things were well. I was a child that loved being outside. We went often fishing with my dad, and I started soccer at a young age. Later I also developed a liking for jogging. Nothing starts the day off better than a nice run in the fresh morning air!
I also loved cooking with my mother. She was a goddess in the kitchen, and I suppose I have learned something from her...
However, a few months ago everything crashed. My mother was killed. She was a pretty, petite thing... No wonder some sick old man set his eyes on her and raped her. He didn't exactly kill her, but it fucking was his fault. She made suicide soon after that, no matter that me and my father loved her as much as ever. She really somehow thought that the rape was her fault and that she was unclean and didn't deserve to live.
Me, on the other hand... Something snapped.
I lost several days. I remember my dad picking me up from school and us going to the hospital. They were trying to safe her life, get the chemicals she had eaten out of her system. Then a doctor came and told that they did all they could, but -- then I lost it. Later I heard that I had just been staring at the doctor, and then started screaming hysterically "You killed her!" over and over and over again and that I attacked the doctor and that my dad couldn't get me off the doctor and they had to get me sedated.
My dad got really depressed. He didn't want to see my face anymore - I looked too much like mom. And me screaming in the night because of nightmares really didn't help, neither did the occasional hallucinations and stuff that I had.
I kept on going to school and soccer and did generally everything I could to not be at home, because being at home made everything so much worse. At school I was able close the hallucinations out better because there was so much distractions. I guess I managed to seem somewhat normal.
But at home there was nothing to distract me. I had never been much of a bookworm so reading was not a choice, and our house seemed so empty without mom. Like every room would have been missing something. The house kept on reminding me about what I had lost. Anywhere else was easier.
At some point my father informed me that he had applied me to a new school, a boarding school for mentally disabled or something like that.
I was fucking glad to leave. It felt like a huge weight would have been lifted from my chest when I had my things packed and finally left for the new school.
When I got to the school I was given a uniform, and they told that they would look through my things to see that there was nothing that could be dangerous among them. I never got anything back. They locked all the doors for the night.
That was when I started to think that something was not right.
Other: I hate being called Malenka. If you want to irritate me, call me that.
Age: 14
Grade level: Freshman
Physical appearance: I am a tall blonde girl with boyish shoulders and a sharp face with a wide mouth, straight nose and narrow grey eyes. My hair is short and platinum blonde, burned even lighter by the sun that has also tanned my skin and made it freckly due to all the time I have been outside. My hobbies, jogging and soccer, have gifted me with a good physical condition and some muscle tone.
Diagnosed psychological disorder: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dissociative Systematized amnesia.
Past: Believe it or not, my life started well. My parents loved each other dearly. Of course they had their problems. However, they got along and got me, and things were well. I was a child that loved being outside. We went often fishing with my dad, and I started soccer at a young age. Later I also developed a liking for jogging. Nothing starts the day off better than a nice run in the fresh morning air!
I also loved cooking with my mother. She was a goddess in the kitchen, and I suppose I have learned something from her...
However, a few months ago everything crashed. My mother was killed. She was a pretty, petite thing... No wonder some sick old man set his eyes on her and raped her. He didn't exactly kill her, but it fucking was his fault. She made suicide soon after that, no matter that me and my father loved her as much as ever. She really somehow thought that the rape was her fault and that she was unclean and didn't deserve to live.
Me, on the other hand... Something snapped.
I lost several days. I remember my dad picking me up from school and us going to the hospital. They were trying to safe her life, get the chemicals she had eaten out of her system. Then a doctor came and told that they did all they could, but -- then I lost it. Later I heard that I had just been staring at the doctor, and then started screaming hysterically "You killed her!" over and over and over again and that I attacked the doctor and that my dad couldn't get me off the doctor and they had to get me sedated.
My dad got really depressed. He didn't want to see my face anymore - I looked too much like mom. And me screaming in the night because of nightmares really didn't help, neither did the occasional hallucinations and stuff that I had.
I kept on going to school and soccer and did generally everything I could to not be at home, because being at home made everything so much worse. At school I was able close the hallucinations out better because there was so much distractions. I guess I managed to seem somewhat normal.
But at home there was nothing to distract me. I had never been much of a bookworm so reading was not a choice, and our house seemed so empty without mom. Like every room would have been missing something. The house kept on reminding me about what I had lost. Anywhere else was easier.
At some point my father informed me that he had applied me to a new school, a boarding school for mentally disabled or something like that.
I was fucking glad to leave. It felt like a huge weight would have been lifted from my chest when I had my things packed and finally left for the new school.
When I got to the school I was given a uniform, and they told that they would look through my things to see that there was nothing that could be dangerous among them. I never got anything back. They locked all the doors for the night.
That was when I started to think that something was not right.
Other: I hate being called Malenka. If you want to irritate me, call me that.