Post by kay on Feb 21, 2011 0:29:02 GMT -5
Name: Rosabella 'Rose' Auditore
Age: 16
Grade Level: Sophomore
Physical Appearance: Long brown hair, sort of curled, long straight bangs which cover her bright green eyes. Small, cute face, but very pale. Skinny, but is not skin and bones. Burns cover her right side in random places.
Diagnosed Psychological Issues: Pyromania
Parasomnia (Sleep terrors)
Emotional Detachment
Tell Us About Your Past: Rose was born in a small town in Rome, Italy. Her family moved to the Americas when she was two. Her mother, Caterina, and her father, Alfonso, were very kind to her and her brother, Orlando. At a young age she was shown as a very promising piano player, but she refused to play for anyone, and refused a teacher, so she grew up self-taught. At age seven her home was burnt to the ground, and she was the only survivor. The police insisted that it was arson, and that Rose committed the crime. she was sent to multiple foster homes after that, until the system found a long lost uncle, whom she went to live with. At age 15, she claimed that her uncle physically assaulted her multiple times, but no evidence was ever found. At age 16, Rose was sent to The Hubbard Center for the Unfit.
-----
When I arrive at this strange center, my uncle shoves me through the large doors, and I enter The Hubbard Center for the Unfit.
2 years to go, starting now.
I am silent. I have no interest in being here, nor there, nor anywhere.
I need a match. Or a lighter. Where are they when you really need one? Oh, that's right. It's illegal contraband here.
I smell the hospital-like smell and almost vomit. I hate it already. What has he gotten me into? I'd rather get beaten every day than be stuck here. I hear a high-pitched scream somewhere far off, but it ends almost as soon as it begun.
My uncle talks to the secretary, as I suppose she is, and he leaves. As he walks out, he tries to pat my shoulder, as some kind of misguided friendly gesture, and I flinch. I can't help it. I don't like being touched, and it's pretty much a reflex. Especially around him. I stand there, with my bag with my small amount of belongings, wondering what this place is all about... Why am I here...?
*Edit: Yaaaayy! ~fixes~*
Age: 16
Grade Level: Sophomore
Physical Appearance: Long brown hair, sort of curled, long straight bangs which cover her bright green eyes. Small, cute face, but very pale. Skinny, but is not skin and bones. Burns cover her right side in random places.
Diagnosed Psychological Issues: Pyromania
Parasomnia (Sleep terrors)
Emotional Detachment
Tell Us About Your Past: Rose was born in a small town in Rome, Italy. Her family moved to the Americas when she was two. Her mother, Caterina, and her father, Alfonso, were very kind to her and her brother, Orlando. At a young age she was shown as a very promising piano player, but she refused to play for anyone, and refused a teacher, so she grew up self-taught. At age seven her home was burnt to the ground, and she was the only survivor. The police insisted that it was arson, and that Rose committed the crime. she was sent to multiple foster homes after that, until the system found a long lost uncle, whom she went to live with. At age 15, she claimed that her uncle physically assaulted her multiple times, but no evidence was ever found. At age 16, Rose was sent to The Hubbard Center for the Unfit.
-----
When I arrive at this strange center, my uncle shoves me through the large doors, and I enter The Hubbard Center for the Unfit.
2 years to go, starting now.
I am silent. I have no interest in being here, nor there, nor anywhere.
I need a match. Or a lighter. Where are they when you really need one? Oh, that's right. It's illegal contraband here.
I smell the hospital-like smell and almost vomit. I hate it already. What has he gotten me into? I'd rather get beaten every day than be stuck here. I hear a high-pitched scream somewhere far off, but it ends almost as soon as it begun.
My uncle talks to the secretary, as I suppose she is, and he leaves. As he walks out, he tries to pat my shoulder, as some kind of misguided friendly gesture, and I flinch. I can't help it. I don't like being touched, and it's pretty much a reflex. Especially around him. I stand there, with my bag with my small amount of belongings, wondering what this place is all about... Why am I here...?
*Edit: Yaaaayy! ~fixes~*