Post by ALEX KING. on Dec 24, 2006 22:15:17 GMT
YOU;;
OOC name; yeah. its sarah again. my last account, i promise :]
CHARACTER;;
Full Name; alexandra reese king
Age; twenty
APPEARANCE;;
Build;
If you were to meet Alex on the street, perhaps the first thing you would notice was how slender she was. She was premature when born, tinier than the rest, and while she shot up like a plant, she never quite made up for it in girth. She is of average height, around five foot seven. If you were to look at her, you may think that she has not one ounce of muscle on her body, but she does. She actually has a good deal of strength, but it never shows on her rail-thin physique.
Ah, but how to describe her hair? It, as can be expected, will change color from time to time, but naturally it is a dark brown. It is naturally straight, and rather thick. She has it cut relatively short most of the time, grazing her shoulders comfortably, but she has been known to let it gain much more length, reaching the bottom of her shoulder blades.
Her eyes are a feature you may notice more immediately than build or hair. They are a deep blue color, piercing in their gaze. Her lashes are very dark, framing her eyes perfectly. Alex tends to refrain from eyeliner or mascara unless it is for a special occasion, so as to avoid adding any unnecessary attention to herself. That's just the way Alex is. She downplays her best features, because she's afraid of the attention.
As for her nose and lips, these are similar to most people's, with the usual moderations of course. Her skin has been compared to porcelain or alabaster, fair and smooth. Her cheeks have a natural rosy glow, like that of a young child.
Alex sports one tattoo, her name with a flourish, on her lower back. It was done on a night of extreme, well, drunkeness, and she regrets it to this day. However, she doesn't dare have it removed. So, there it remains, in swirling black letters. However, she does believe it serves one purpose. She believes that it is there so that she will never forget who she really is. Nothing to her is more scary than losing yourself.
Alex has a few scars, but they are not very noticable, and they are dispersed randomly across her body, along with bruises. She will tell you it is just because she's fragile, which is not hard to believe, but all are from an attack in the past, from a boy she had for some stupid reason decided to date. He'd attempted to rape her, beating her and throwing her to the ground, the harsh cement digging into her skin, leaving marks she cannot ever remove.
And flaws, well, we all have them. Whether they are a crooked nose or hairy feet. Alex tries not to focus on hers, but if she were forced to say anything she'd tell you her forehead, which, truth be told, may protrude a bit more than normal, but isn't all that noticable.
PERSONALITY;;
Personality;
Suddenly I'm Half the Man I Used to Be
Alex used to be happy. She used to be witty, funny, beautiful. She used to smile, used to make other people smile, laugh, love her. She was a philantropist. She loved people, loved being with them. Loved to make them happy. And that was what everyone adored about her. They wanted her to be happy too. She was nominated for Prom Queen, even, in her junior year, though she didn't win. She had oodles of friends, and most boys loved her. But that all changed when she lost her mother.
No Sign of Love Behind the Tears
Now, Alex is just depressed. She's the complete opposite of the happy girl everyone once knew and loved. She didn't love anyone anymore. Didn't think they deserved her trust. Didn't think they deserved anything. They belonged to the same race that had killed her mother-- that was enough. She distanced herself from her friends, from anyone she once cared about.
Take my Hand
The time directly after her mother's death was the worst. She didn't feel at all, didn't talk, didn't eat. Her frame, already rail thin, became even more gaunt, circles forming under her beautiful eyes as she sat in an Easy Chair in the King's apartment, hugging her knees to her chest. It was when people tried their hardest to reach out to her, tried their hardest to bring her back. The wound was still fresh, and their sad attempts only seemed to add peroxide to it, fueling the pain. And so, they all fell away, not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to say.
That was Completely Uncalled For
Alex has become rather rude. She can't really help herself. She can't make herself be polite to anyone anymore. Being polite shows trust. She has no trust. No one understands her, no one seems to get the fact that she deals with it all differently. She hides from her problems, tries to forget about them, while everyone else tries to face them, tries to grab the bull by the horns. And so they don't seem to understand why she can't talk to them. Why she's still so fucked up.
You Fall Away From Your Past-- But It's Following You
Alex actually tries sometimes. She actually has made attempts to close that gap, to put a bandaid on the wound. Try and let it heal, so it just leaves an ugly scar. But every time she tries, she fails. She can't do it alone. But, she can't seem to find the one person who can help her...
Likes;
- Quiet
- Books
- Newspaper
- Writing
- Painting
- Debating
Dislikes;
- "Raves"
- Clubs
- Sluts
- Most people, actually.
PAST;;
Family;
Grace Louise King was the only family Alex had ever known. Her grandparents moved to Australia in their fifties, and her father had never been present. Grace was a wonderful woman. She was quite smart, beautiful, and calm. She seemed to always know what to do, what was right, what was best, what was smartest. She could talk to Alex about anything, would never judge her daughter because of any decision. She supported each decision, stupid or smart. She was there to pick up the pieces. She was there to help put her daughter's life in perspective.
For eighteen years, at least.
Then, as they were driving home, some man asked the King girls to have sex with him-- for money. Outraged and insulted, Grace yelled at the man, protecting her daughter. This made the man mad, and he began to threaten Alex. One thing led to another, and the man-- obviously a drug addict-- got to the point where he as so mad that he... shot her. Alex's life, Alex's joy, Alex's rock-- she was gone. One of the purest of people, one of the best anyone could ever know. Bright, beautiful, amazing. And one man took her out of this world, merely because he didn't get any.
History;
On September 31st, Alex Reese King was born. She was born at least one month too early, and doctors feared for her life. They didn't know if the little child would ever make it out of the hospital. She stayed there for the first few weeks of her life, living out of an incubator, while her exhausted mother stayed at her side at all hours. Slowly, the babe recovered, and was taken out of the incubator, able to breathe on her own and get enough oxygen from the air around her. Her organs were more developed. And so, she was sent home with her mother, her only parent. She never met her father; she never needed him.
She grew up in a nicer apartment complex right outside of Denver, Colorado. The apartment was away from the smog, traffic, and-- so it was thought-- crime of the city. Alex adored it there. Her bus ride to school each morning brought them past the magnificent Rockies, and the child's beautiful blue eyes widened each time she saw the amazing peaks. She told her mother she would climb each mountain one day.
Grace worked at a successful law firm while Alex attended private schooling from pre-kindergarten and up. They were both content with life, and Grace was glad her daughter was getting such a fine education, and Alex was glad that her mother was glad. The young girl made many friends at school, and they came to play often, dressing up in Grace's clothing, putting on her makeup, and just being delighted by their youth. Everyone loved the King girls, inspired by their sparkle and vigor. Life was, well, good.
But slowly, Grace's law firm deteriorated, until it shut down. Grace was out of work for three months, and was feeling stretched to the limit. For the first time, she snapped at her daughter, raising her voice and even shaking her daughter by her shoulders. It was quite a milestone, and little Alex began to cry so painfully that her mother was overcome with regret. She hugged her daughter, promising her she'd find work soon. She took several day jobs between interviews, trying to bring in as much income as possible. Luckily, they had savings to fund Alex's tuition, but anything other than the necessities were out of the question.
After this dark period in their lives, Grace managed to find an even better job, and the two were increasingly happy. Things were not so hard, and they began to look up. Alex progressed through the early years of elementary school, making even more friends as the years went by. It was all a blur, this period of joy, but a happy one.
Grace didn't date much. All of her relationships were dysfunctional, improper and always ended painfully. There were a few men that stayed longer than a month, but Alex hated them all. Not because of their personality, but because she was very protective of her mother, and was rather jealous of them. She would scowl whenever they walked in, ignore their attempts to be friendly. She'd backsass them, and be generally rude, something that was not very common with such a polite child. At one point, she even threw one of her Barbie Dolls-- it was her favorite, with golden skin and curling brown hair-- at her mother's longest-lasting boyfriend, Johnathon. It had whacked him in the head, and he began to yell at her. She yelled back, screaming and carrying on like a two year old. He began to shake her by the shoulders, which brougth memories from when she was very little to Alex's mind, of when her mother and she had been not as well off. She began to sob, and her mother walked in, witnessing only her daughter being shaken.
Grace screamed at Johnathon, telling him to get out that instant. He began to yell back, not taking his hands off of Alex. Grace slapped him across the face, threatening to call the police if he didn't leave as soon as possible. Alex shoved a remote control in the man's groin, and he, wimpering, left with a damaged pride and aching balls. Grace began to smile through her tears, and hugged her child close to her. She chuckled, calling her daughter a "Ball Buster," which Alex didn't truly understand until she was older, but then proceeded to lecture her daughter to not disrespect someone as such. It was a shaking experience, but the two recovered quickly and Grace refrained from dating for a while.
As Alex progressed into the sixth grade, she began to blossom socially. She befriended almost everyone in her grade, getting phone calls every night. Her intelligence grew as well. She was on the school's Debate Team-- the youngest member-- and participated in acedemic rally with other students years older than her. Parents all told Grace what a darling child Alex was, how intelligent and witty she was. Grace would reply saying, "Alex is my genius. I couldn't be prouder of her." Alex heard her almost every time, and each night she'd tell her mother she was proud of her, too.
It was in eighth grade Alex became popular with the opposite sex. Her figure had filled out a great deal, her curves noticeable but adapted to her petite frame. Her facial features changed, making her look much more mature. She went to dances with many different boys, even had a "boyfriend" or two, but it was all silly. She didn't really care for any of them in that way. They were all honestly rather shallow, and she wanted someone deeper than that. But, not much can be expected for boys under eighteen-- they're all hopelessly immature, really-- and so she adapted.
However, when Alex was fifteen, the crime rate in the small city plummetted to an unfathomable pinnacle, and the community grew tenser, locking their doors and not allowing their children to walk to school any longer. Grace kept an even closer watch on her daughter, who was now learning how to drive. Curfews were tightened, parents even more wary of their child's new love interest. They all said it would pass, but it never did.
It was at this point when Alex began to date a boy named Ray. He was tall, dark haired and mature. He was the "hunk" of the school, and all of Alex's friends were quite jealous. But he had quite a reputation, and some even said a criminal record. That was partly the reason Alex went out with him. He was her own exploration of freedom. However, it all went much too far. After a few weeks, Ray began to kiss Alex more forcefully, but being a giddy young girl, she thought nothing of it. It all continued until one night, he began to fondle. She asked what he was doing, but he didn't speak. He got to the point where he was unbuckling his belt, and she began to fight him then. She shoved, and he shoved back, cursing at her, calling her a "filthy whore." She replied fearfully, saying he was the filthy one.
This angered the boy, and he shoved her to the ground, getting to the point where it was attempted rape. She began to cry out in pure fear, begging him to stop. Some passerbys heard her pleas, and managed to pull the bastard off before any sort of penetration occured. Feeling petrified and violated, Alex stayed home from school for one week, staying huddled in her mother's room with Grace wrapped up like an eskimo. She told her mother she was sick, but it was her way with handling the shock.
Eventually, she got back to school, and managed to continue despite her scare. She ignored the boy, and he ignored her as well. Her friends all stared in awe at her, calling her brave. But Alex would only shake her head. She knew she wasn't brave.
Slowly, the community grew to accept its crime to the best of their abilities, to conform around it. Things stayed rather acceptable until Alex's senior year. She was a social butterfly, out almost every night with her friends. More boys came and went, but none of them attempted sex like the awful boy from before. Well, all except one. He was her second attempt at someone deeper, her second attempt at freedom. They'd "gone the whole way"-- several times, even-- but he didn't care for her like she cared for him. And so they parted, but she wouldn't forget him. He stayed in the back of her mind, pouncing on her thoughts every so often.
Of course she'd told Grace about him. Not in detail, exactly, but the basics of what had happened. Grace was young and generally very cool about such things, but she wasn't thrilled about what had happened. She gave her child a long lecture, poignant, telling her she'd support her child, but not to expect infinite amounts of pity when her heart was broken. And so Alex kept the turmoil to herself, not wanting to get her nose rubbed in the fact that she'd been wrong. But Grace did support her, furtively, in ways that Alex didn't notice at the time.
You might think everything stayed happy and well. But it didn't. Not at all. Just that one decision, made on a heroine-induced whim, changed a girl's life forever. Changed a girl forever.
Grace had been taking her daughter home from a trip to the mall. Alex was much too tired to drive, and didn't feel comfortable doing so in the dark, so Grace took the wheel. They decided to stop at Wendy's to grab a few hamburgers, fries, some Frosties-- their usual Friday Night Shmorgesborg. While walking back towards the car with their food, a man stepped out from the shadows. He was covered in hair. He had hair on his chest, on his arms, on his legs, and on his face. It was all a dark brown, close to blac, but not quite. His eyes were a dull grey, sunken in and droopy. He looked exhausted, and even a little crazed.
"Hey ladies," he'd said, staggering as he walked towards them. "Hows abouts a three-some, m'kay?" Alex emitted a chaste gasp as he thrust three one-hundred dollar bills by their noses. He rank of alcohol and other substances, and Grace stepped in front of her daughter. She told him no fiercly, and tried to keep walking. This angered the man, and he grabbed on Alex's arm. She struggled against him, but his clammy hands had a firm grip. His bony fingers dug into her, and no amount of pulling could get him off of her. His fingernails dug into her skin, leaving five curved scars that haunt Alex to this day. Grace dropped her bags and emit a squirt of pepper spray into the man's droopy eyes.
He shouted, and his hand dropped Alex's arm, reaching towards his eyes. The Kings made a run for their car, abandoing their greasy fries. A man inside the facility began to dial 9-1-1, but cars could only drive so fast. The droopy man pulled out a gun, pointed it at Grace, and fired.
Bang. Alex let out a distorted sob, trying to get away. She couldn't see her mother, didn't know if she was okay. Couldn't go back to see her. She turned her head around, looking over her shoulder, to find the man point the gun at her. Her heart beat out of her chest, and she knew it had to be the end. But the gun made a click noise, and the man looked at it for a second. Out of ammunition. Out of possibilities to take her down. She stopped, watched him throw the gun to the ground. Their eyes met, and she froze. Even the man shuddered, shocked by her harsh gaze. Against all better judgement, she ran towards him, tears running wildly down her face. Her lips parted to omit an angry, but quiet cry, and she had all intentions to beat his fucking brains out.
Not so stupidly, the man ran. She tried running after him, but someone had run outside, grabbed her, and stopped her. Another good citizen was tending to her mother, shaking their head sadly. Alex cried out as the sky parted, rain falling dramatically. The police arrived shortly, but no one knew where the killer had gone. The ambulance arrived, but when the paramedics took one look at Grace they shook their heads. "She's gone," one of them muttered. And Alex completely lost it.
She was sitting with the man who had grabbed her, stopped her from being foolish. Stopped her from running after a killer. He patted her arm, and she recoiled. He gave her a look that seemed to beg for her to open up to him. "Do you need to talk?" he asked. She looked towards him, her eyes barely focusing. She was wet, dizzy, and in shock. Each breath only made her dizzier, her stomach experiencing pains that were unimaginable, but not nearly topping the pain that stabbed her with each heartbeat, right in her heart.
"Do you know what it's like," she asked him quietly, "to watch your mother be killed, and then watch someone try to kill you?" The man was silent. She stood, threw the blanket on the ground. "Until you do, I don't think we can." She then proceeded to walk outside the Wendy's, towards her car. There was a tarp over her mother's body, and upon seeing it, she fainted, right there in the soaking wet parking lot, limbs flailing into puddles.
The social workers asked her if she wanted to call her dad, wanted to go live with him. It was weeks after her eighteenth birthday-- she was legally an adult. She didn't need to live with anyone. She refused adamently. She'd never known her dad, didn't want to. She wanted nothing to do with him, just as he wanted nothing to do with her.
She stayed out of school for a few weeks, not doing any makeup work. She was no longer the witty, bright young teenager she'd been before. She was Alex, the recluse. People shied away from her, afraid of her cold eyes, afraid of her emptiness. They didn't know how to deal with someone so shriveled up. Someone who felt like there was nothing left.
They tried to talk to her, tried to prove some sort of empathy. And each time she walked away. She didn't want to hear what they had to say, didn't want to hear their pathetic excuses. And so they stopped talking altogether, stopped trying to give her a reason to give them one of her piercing stares. They were afraid of her, just as she, honestly, was afraid of them.
At graduation, she was Valedictorian. As she stood at the podium in cap and gown, diploma in hand, she opened her mouth to speak. The audience waited, knowing what a great speaker she was, or at least had been. She opened her mouth to speak, and they all perked up. They all expected something from her. They wanted this to bring her back. They wanted this to make her the old Alex. Wanted the speech to bring back her sparkle, her vigor.
She stared at each student, closing her mouth slowly. She then continued to look at each parent. Both the students and the relatives shivered. They didn't know what to do, what to say. She looked away, looked to the beautiful Rocky Mountains. "I'm going to climb them all one day, her childish voice haunted her in her ears, followed by an even more chilling signature laugh from her mother.
Her eyes gained a look of terror, and she grabbed her hat, running off the stage. A few people stood, as if going to go after her, but they didn't even take a step. They all sat quietly as she hopped into her car, slamming the door. Sat quietly as she started the engine, and sped off. But what they didn't know was that she had only made it as far as about a mile away, where she parked in the shoulder, head leaned against the steering wheel. Her makeup ran as she sobbed, harder than ever before. It was the only time she'd sobbed since the night of her mother's death. Her first sign of emotion sense she'd ran out of the Wendy's. She'd stayed quiet at home, not moving, not eating, not sleeping. She just sat there, an empty shell.
She was in the papers for being the "Runaway Valedictorian." She read every article. She even cut some out and kept them in her scrapbook. Each had a different story to tell, each offering their own point of view on the Girl Whose Mother Died. There were quotes from her teachers, quotes from her principal, even quotes from classmates. Her hands shook as she read each one, breaths grew shallow.
"She was an amazing student. One of the best ones we've ever seen! And a truly talented writer. Until, that is, she let herself go to waste."
"Alex was so sweet! We used to go out to movies and stuff all the time. But then, she just got so quiet. I mean, yeah, her mother died, but can't she talk anymore?"
"I think we may have lost Alex King forever."
College was an open escape. No one asked questions. UCLA was too big. No one cared if you weren't at class on time. Her roommate was just as quiet as she was. She studied hard, and managed to keep good grades. But she didn't make any life-altering decisions. It was a fear of anything big, anything that could change her course in life. Her mother's death had changed it all, and it was what tributed to this fear of commitment.
She was the youngest editor in Bruin history. Her moderator raved about her writing, telling her it was so true, so hardcore. That she had a special spark. That she wasn't afraid of digging in, wasn't afraid of telling people how it was, even if it meant risking her popularity. She hadn't believed a word he said, just nodded, exhausted. And so, he made her editor of the school paper.
Out of the few things Alex loved anymore, writing was one of them. It was actually quite signifigant in her life, quite dear to her. It was her way of telling people how she felt, but not by exposing herself. Not by making herself vulnerable.
She didn't just write for The Bruin, either. She had a notebook, small enough to fit in her purse. She had written in it every day since her mother's murder, written her rantings, written her thoughts. She had even cried as she read over it, her tears staining the blue-lined paper forever. But it was part of who she was, part of her process of coming back to life again. She didn't know how long that process would take, but she had at least a dozen notebooks at home, just waiting to be filled...
PRESENT;;
Pets; none
Siblings; none
Children; none
Education; Elementary -- Completed; High school -- Completed; College -- Second year, current
Job; waitress at Starbucks
CITY OF ANGELS;;
Celebrity; Alexis Bledel
Sample Post;
BEING POSTED IN A REPLY.
TALAN = ♥
hehe <3
Other; andddd *edited by admins*
[/center]OOC name; yeah. its sarah again. my last account, i promise :]
CHARACTER;;
Full Name; alexandra reese king
Age; twenty
APPEARANCE;;
Build;
If you were to meet Alex on the street, perhaps the first thing you would notice was how slender she was. She was premature when born, tinier than the rest, and while she shot up like a plant, she never quite made up for it in girth. She is of average height, around five foot seven. If you were to look at her, you may think that she has not one ounce of muscle on her body, but she does. She actually has a good deal of strength, but it never shows on her rail-thin physique.
Ah, but how to describe her hair? It, as can be expected, will change color from time to time, but naturally it is a dark brown. It is naturally straight, and rather thick. She has it cut relatively short most of the time, grazing her shoulders comfortably, but she has been known to let it gain much more length, reaching the bottom of her shoulder blades.
Her eyes are a feature you may notice more immediately than build or hair. They are a deep blue color, piercing in their gaze. Her lashes are very dark, framing her eyes perfectly. Alex tends to refrain from eyeliner or mascara unless it is for a special occasion, so as to avoid adding any unnecessary attention to herself. That's just the way Alex is. She downplays her best features, because she's afraid of the attention.
As for her nose and lips, these are similar to most people's, with the usual moderations of course. Her skin has been compared to porcelain or alabaster, fair and smooth. Her cheeks have a natural rosy glow, like that of a young child.
Alex sports one tattoo, her name with a flourish, on her lower back. It was done on a night of extreme, well, drunkeness, and she regrets it to this day. However, she doesn't dare have it removed. So, there it remains, in swirling black letters. However, she does believe it serves one purpose. She believes that it is there so that she will never forget who she really is. Nothing to her is more scary than losing yourself.
Alex has a few scars, but they are not very noticable, and they are dispersed randomly across her body, along with bruises. She will tell you it is just because she's fragile, which is not hard to believe, but all are from an attack in the past, from a boy she had for some stupid reason decided to date. He'd attempted to rape her, beating her and throwing her to the ground, the harsh cement digging into her skin, leaving marks she cannot ever remove.
And flaws, well, we all have them. Whether they are a crooked nose or hairy feet. Alex tries not to focus on hers, but if she were forced to say anything she'd tell you her forehead, which, truth be told, may protrude a bit more than normal, but isn't all that noticable.
PERSONALITY;;
Personality;
Suddenly I'm Half the Man I Used to Be
Alex used to be happy. She used to be witty, funny, beautiful. She used to smile, used to make other people smile, laugh, love her. She was a philantropist. She loved people, loved being with them. Loved to make them happy. And that was what everyone adored about her. They wanted her to be happy too. She was nominated for Prom Queen, even, in her junior year, though she didn't win. She had oodles of friends, and most boys loved her. But that all changed when she lost her mother.
No Sign of Love Behind the Tears
Now, Alex is just depressed. She's the complete opposite of the happy girl everyone once knew and loved. She didn't love anyone anymore. Didn't think they deserved her trust. Didn't think they deserved anything. They belonged to the same race that had killed her mother-- that was enough. She distanced herself from her friends, from anyone she once cared about.
Take my Hand
The time directly after her mother's death was the worst. She didn't feel at all, didn't talk, didn't eat. Her frame, already rail thin, became even more gaunt, circles forming under her beautiful eyes as she sat in an Easy Chair in the King's apartment, hugging her knees to her chest. It was when people tried their hardest to reach out to her, tried their hardest to bring her back. The wound was still fresh, and their sad attempts only seemed to add peroxide to it, fueling the pain. And so, they all fell away, not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to say.
That was Completely Uncalled For
Alex has become rather rude. She can't really help herself. She can't make herself be polite to anyone anymore. Being polite shows trust. She has no trust. No one understands her, no one seems to get the fact that she deals with it all differently. She hides from her problems, tries to forget about them, while everyone else tries to face them, tries to grab the bull by the horns. And so they don't seem to understand why she can't talk to them. Why she's still so fucked up.
You Fall Away From Your Past-- But It's Following You
Alex actually tries sometimes. She actually has made attempts to close that gap, to put a bandaid on the wound. Try and let it heal, so it just leaves an ugly scar. But every time she tries, she fails. She can't do it alone. But, she can't seem to find the one person who can help her...
Likes;
- Quiet
- Books
- Newspaper
- Writing
- Painting
- Debating
Dislikes;
- "Raves"
- Clubs
- Sluts
- Most people, actually.
PAST;;
Family;
Grace Louise King was the only family Alex had ever known. Her grandparents moved to Australia in their fifties, and her father had never been present. Grace was a wonderful woman. She was quite smart, beautiful, and calm. She seemed to always know what to do, what was right, what was best, what was smartest. She could talk to Alex about anything, would never judge her daughter because of any decision. She supported each decision, stupid or smart. She was there to pick up the pieces. She was there to help put her daughter's life in perspective.
For eighteen years, at least.
Then, as they were driving home, some man asked the King girls to have sex with him-- for money. Outraged and insulted, Grace yelled at the man, protecting her daughter. This made the man mad, and he began to threaten Alex. One thing led to another, and the man-- obviously a drug addict-- got to the point where he as so mad that he... shot her. Alex's life, Alex's joy, Alex's rock-- she was gone. One of the purest of people, one of the best anyone could ever know. Bright, beautiful, amazing. And one man took her out of this world, merely because he didn't get any.
History;
On September 31st, Alex Reese King was born. She was born at least one month too early, and doctors feared for her life. They didn't know if the little child would ever make it out of the hospital. She stayed there for the first few weeks of her life, living out of an incubator, while her exhausted mother stayed at her side at all hours. Slowly, the babe recovered, and was taken out of the incubator, able to breathe on her own and get enough oxygen from the air around her. Her organs were more developed. And so, she was sent home with her mother, her only parent. She never met her father; she never needed him.
She grew up in a nicer apartment complex right outside of Denver, Colorado. The apartment was away from the smog, traffic, and-- so it was thought-- crime of the city. Alex adored it there. Her bus ride to school each morning brought them past the magnificent Rockies, and the child's beautiful blue eyes widened each time she saw the amazing peaks. She told her mother she would climb each mountain one day.
Grace worked at a successful law firm while Alex attended private schooling from pre-kindergarten and up. They were both content with life, and Grace was glad her daughter was getting such a fine education, and Alex was glad that her mother was glad. The young girl made many friends at school, and they came to play often, dressing up in Grace's clothing, putting on her makeup, and just being delighted by their youth. Everyone loved the King girls, inspired by their sparkle and vigor. Life was, well, good.
But slowly, Grace's law firm deteriorated, until it shut down. Grace was out of work for three months, and was feeling stretched to the limit. For the first time, she snapped at her daughter, raising her voice and even shaking her daughter by her shoulders. It was quite a milestone, and little Alex began to cry so painfully that her mother was overcome with regret. She hugged her daughter, promising her she'd find work soon. She took several day jobs between interviews, trying to bring in as much income as possible. Luckily, they had savings to fund Alex's tuition, but anything other than the necessities were out of the question.
After this dark period in their lives, Grace managed to find an even better job, and the two were increasingly happy. Things were not so hard, and they began to look up. Alex progressed through the early years of elementary school, making even more friends as the years went by. It was all a blur, this period of joy, but a happy one.
Grace didn't date much. All of her relationships were dysfunctional, improper and always ended painfully. There were a few men that stayed longer than a month, but Alex hated them all. Not because of their personality, but because she was very protective of her mother, and was rather jealous of them. She would scowl whenever they walked in, ignore their attempts to be friendly. She'd backsass them, and be generally rude, something that was not very common with such a polite child. At one point, she even threw one of her Barbie Dolls-- it was her favorite, with golden skin and curling brown hair-- at her mother's longest-lasting boyfriend, Johnathon. It had whacked him in the head, and he began to yell at her. She yelled back, screaming and carrying on like a two year old. He began to shake her by the shoulders, which brougth memories from when she was very little to Alex's mind, of when her mother and she had been not as well off. She began to sob, and her mother walked in, witnessing only her daughter being shaken.
Grace screamed at Johnathon, telling him to get out that instant. He began to yell back, not taking his hands off of Alex. Grace slapped him across the face, threatening to call the police if he didn't leave as soon as possible. Alex shoved a remote control in the man's groin, and he, wimpering, left with a damaged pride and aching balls. Grace began to smile through her tears, and hugged her child close to her. She chuckled, calling her daughter a "Ball Buster," which Alex didn't truly understand until she was older, but then proceeded to lecture her daughter to not disrespect someone as such. It was a shaking experience, but the two recovered quickly and Grace refrained from dating for a while.
As Alex progressed into the sixth grade, she began to blossom socially. She befriended almost everyone in her grade, getting phone calls every night. Her intelligence grew as well. She was on the school's Debate Team-- the youngest member-- and participated in acedemic rally with other students years older than her. Parents all told Grace what a darling child Alex was, how intelligent and witty she was. Grace would reply saying, "Alex is my genius. I couldn't be prouder of her." Alex heard her almost every time, and each night she'd tell her mother she was proud of her, too.
It was in eighth grade Alex became popular with the opposite sex. Her figure had filled out a great deal, her curves noticeable but adapted to her petite frame. Her facial features changed, making her look much more mature. She went to dances with many different boys, even had a "boyfriend" or two, but it was all silly. She didn't really care for any of them in that way. They were all honestly rather shallow, and she wanted someone deeper than that. But, not much can be expected for boys under eighteen-- they're all hopelessly immature, really-- and so she adapted.
However, when Alex was fifteen, the crime rate in the small city plummetted to an unfathomable pinnacle, and the community grew tenser, locking their doors and not allowing their children to walk to school any longer. Grace kept an even closer watch on her daughter, who was now learning how to drive. Curfews were tightened, parents even more wary of their child's new love interest. They all said it would pass, but it never did.
It was at this point when Alex began to date a boy named Ray. He was tall, dark haired and mature. He was the "hunk" of the school, and all of Alex's friends were quite jealous. But he had quite a reputation, and some even said a criminal record. That was partly the reason Alex went out with him. He was her own exploration of freedom. However, it all went much too far. After a few weeks, Ray began to kiss Alex more forcefully, but being a giddy young girl, she thought nothing of it. It all continued until one night, he began to fondle. She asked what he was doing, but he didn't speak. He got to the point where he was unbuckling his belt, and she began to fight him then. She shoved, and he shoved back, cursing at her, calling her a "filthy whore." She replied fearfully, saying he was the filthy one.
This angered the boy, and he shoved her to the ground, getting to the point where it was attempted rape. She began to cry out in pure fear, begging him to stop. Some passerbys heard her pleas, and managed to pull the bastard off before any sort of penetration occured. Feeling petrified and violated, Alex stayed home from school for one week, staying huddled in her mother's room with Grace wrapped up like an eskimo. She told her mother she was sick, but it was her way with handling the shock.
Eventually, she got back to school, and managed to continue despite her scare. She ignored the boy, and he ignored her as well. Her friends all stared in awe at her, calling her brave. But Alex would only shake her head. She knew she wasn't brave.
Slowly, the community grew to accept its crime to the best of their abilities, to conform around it. Things stayed rather acceptable until Alex's senior year. She was a social butterfly, out almost every night with her friends. More boys came and went, but none of them attempted sex like the awful boy from before. Well, all except one. He was her second attempt at someone deeper, her second attempt at freedom. They'd "gone the whole way"-- several times, even-- but he didn't care for her like she cared for him. And so they parted, but she wouldn't forget him. He stayed in the back of her mind, pouncing on her thoughts every so often.
Of course she'd told Grace about him. Not in detail, exactly, but the basics of what had happened. Grace was young and generally very cool about such things, but she wasn't thrilled about what had happened. She gave her child a long lecture, poignant, telling her she'd support her child, but not to expect infinite amounts of pity when her heart was broken. And so Alex kept the turmoil to herself, not wanting to get her nose rubbed in the fact that she'd been wrong. But Grace did support her, furtively, in ways that Alex didn't notice at the time.
You might think everything stayed happy and well. But it didn't. Not at all. Just that one decision, made on a heroine-induced whim, changed a girl's life forever. Changed a girl forever.
Grace had been taking her daughter home from a trip to the mall. Alex was much too tired to drive, and didn't feel comfortable doing so in the dark, so Grace took the wheel. They decided to stop at Wendy's to grab a few hamburgers, fries, some Frosties-- their usual Friday Night Shmorgesborg. While walking back towards the car with their food, a man stepped out from the shadows. He was covered in hair. He had hair on his chest, on his arms, on his legs, and on his face. It was all a dark brown, close to blac, but not quite. His eyes were a dull grey, sunken in and droopy. He looked exhausted, and even a little crazed.
"Hey ladies," he'd said, staggering as he walked towards them. "Hows abouts a three-some, m'kay?" Alex emitted a chaste gasp as he thrust three one-hundred dollar bills by their noses. He rank of alcohol and other substances, and Grace stepped in front of her daughter. She told him no fiercly, and tried to keep walking. This angered the man, and he grabbed on Alex's arm. She struggled against him, but his clammy hands had a firm grip. His bony fingers dug into her, and no amount of pulling could get him off of her. His fingernails dug into her skin, leaving five curved scars that haunt Alex to this day. Grace dropped her bags and emit a squirt of pepper spray into the man's droopy eyes.
He shouted, and his hand dropped Alex's arm, reaching towards his eyes. The Kings made a run for their car, abandoing their greasy fries. A man inside the facility began to dial 9-1-1, but cars could only drive so fast. The droopy man pulled out a gun, pointed it at Grace, and fired.
Bang. Alex let out a distorted sob, trying to get away. She couldn't see her mother, didn't know if she was okay. Couldn't go back to see her. She turned her head around, looking over her shoulder, to find the man point the gun at her. Her heart beat out of her chest, and she knew it had to be the end. But the gun made a click noise, and the man looked at it for a second. Out of ammunition. Out of possibilities to take her down. She stopped, watched him throw the gun to the ground. Their eyes met, and she froze. Even the man shuddered, shocked by her harsh gaze. Against all better judgement, she ran towards him, tears running wildly down her face. Her lips parted to omit an angry, but quiet cry, and she had all intentions to beat his fucking brains out.
Not so stupidly, the man ran. She tried running after him, but someone had run outside, grabbed her, and stopped her. Another good citizen was tending to her mother, shaking their head sadly. Alex cried out as the sky parted, rain falling dramatically. The police arrived shortly, but no one knew where the killer had gone. The ambulance arrived, but when the paramedics took one look at Grace they shook their heads. "She's gone," one of them muttered. And Alex completely lost it.
She was sitting with the man who had grabbed her, stopped her from being foolish. Stopped her from running after a killer. He patted her arm, and she recoiled. He gave her a look that seemed to beg for her to open up to him. "Do you need to talk?" he asked. She looked towards him, her eyes barely focusing. She was wet, dizzy, and in shock. Each breath only made her dizzier, her stomach experiencing pains that were unimaginable, but not nearly topping the pain that stabbed her with each heartbeat, right in her heart.
"Do you know what it's like," she asked him quietly, "to watch your mother be killed, and then watch someone try to kill you?" The man was silent. She stood, threw the blanket on the ground. "Until you do, I don't think we can." She then proceeded to walk outside the Wendy's, towards her car. There was a tarp over her mother's body, and upon seeing it, she fainted, right there in the soaking wet parking lot, limbs flailing into puddles.
The social workers asked her if she wanted to call her dad, wanted to go live with him. It was weeks after her eighteenth birthday-- she was legally an adult. She didn't need to live with anyone. She refused adamently. She'd never known her dad, didn't want to. She wanted nothing to do with him, just as he wanted nothing to do with her.
She stayed out of school for a few weeks, not doing any makeup work. She was no longer the witty, bright young teenager she'd been before. She was Alex, the recluse. People shied away from her, afraid of her cold eyes, afraid of her emptiness. They didn't know how to deal with someone so shriveled up. Someone who felt like there was nothing left.
They tried to talk to her, tried to prove some sort of empathy. And each time she walked away. She didn't want to hear what they had to say, didn't want to hear their pathetic excuses. And so they stopped talking altogether, stopped trying to give her a reason to give them one of her piercing stares. They were afraid of her, just as she, honestly, was afraid of them.
At graduation, she was Valedictorian. As she stood at the podium in cap and gown, diploma in hand, she opened her mouth to speak. The audience waited, knowing what a great speaker she was, or at least had been. She opened her mouth to speak, and they all perked up. They all expected something from her. They wanted this to bring her back. They wanted this to make her the old Alex. Wanted the speech to bring back her sparkle, her vigor.
She stared at each student, closing her mouth slowly. She then continued to look at each parent. Both the students and the relatives shivered. They didn't know what to do, what to say. She looked away, looked to the beautiful Rocky Mountains. "I'm going to climb them all one day, her childish voice haunted her in her ears, followed by an even more chilling signature laugh from her mother.
Her eyes gained a look of terror, and she grabbed her hat, running off the stage. A few people stood, as if going to go after her, but they didn't even take a step. They all sat quietly as she hopped into her car, slamming the door. Sat quietly as she started the engine, and sped off. But what they didn't know was that she had only made it as far as about a mile away, where she parked in the shoulder, head leaned against the steering wheel. Her makeup ran as she sobbed, harder than ever before. It was the only time she'd sobbed since the night of her mother's death. Her first sign of emotion sense she'd ran out of the Wendy's. She'd stayed quiet at home, not moving, not eating, not sleeping. She just sat there, an empty shell.
She was in the papers for being the "Runaway Valedictorian." She read every article. She even cut some out and kept them in her scrapbook. Each had a different story to tell, each offering their own point of view on the Girl Whose Mother Died. There were quotes from her teachers, quotes from her principal, even quotes from classmates. Her hands shook as she read each one, breaths grew shallow.
"She was an amazing student. One of the best ones we've ever seen! And a truly talented writer. Until, that is, she let herself go to waste."
"Alex was so sweet! We used to go out to movies and stuff all the time. But then, she just got so quiet. I mean, yeah, her mother died, but can't she talk anymore?"
"I think we may have lost Alex King forever."
College was an open escape. No one asked questions. UCLA was too big. No one cared if you weren't at class on time. Her roommate was just as quiet as she was. She studied hard, and managed to keep good grades. But she didn't make any life-altering decisions. It was a fear of anything big, anything that could change her course in life. Her mother's death had changed it all, and it was what tributed to this fear of commitment.
She was the youngest editor in Bruin history. Her moderator raved about her writing, telling her it was so true, so hardcore. That she had a special spark. That she wasn't afraid of digging in, wasn't afraid of telling people how it was, even if it meant risking her popularity. She hadn't believed a word he said, just nodded, exhausted. And so, he made her editor of the school paper.
Out of the few things Alex loved anymore, writing was one of them. It was actually quite signifigant in her life, quite dear to her. It was her way of telling people how she felt, but not by exposing herself. Not by making herself vulnerable.
She didn't just write for The Bruin, either. She had a notebook, small enough to fit in her purse. She had written in it every day since her mother's murder, written her rantings, written her thoughts. She had even cried as she read over it, her tears staining the blue-lined paper forever. But it was part of who she was, part of her process of coming back to life again. She didn't know how long that process would take, but she had at least a dozen notebooks at home, just waiting to be filled...
PRESENT;;
Pets; none
Siblings; none
Children; none
Education; Elementary -- Completed; High school -- Completed; College -- Second year, current
Job; waitress at Starbucks
CITY OF ANGELS;;
Celebrity; Alexis Bledel
Sample Post;
BEING POSTED IN A REPLY.
TALAN = ♥
hehe <3
Other; andddd *edited by admins*
