Character Info:
Character name: Angela Lourdes
Age: 24
Nationality: Hispanic
Languages: English/ Spanish
Height: 5’5’’
Weight 165 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Skin Tone: tan
Hair: Mid back length, wavy, black
Serum Species: Artists Choice. This isn’t about favorite animals or cuteness or coolness or whatever. Screw my character over. Please.
Appearance:
Angela is average height, and of middling weight, neither skinny, nor morbidly obese, she has the figure of a woman who has had children and never got around to trying to look sixteen again. She has two moles on her left cheek just to the side of her nose; both are flat, but dark.
History:
Angela grew up in a fairly normal home in Las Vegas Nevada. Yeah, there were times when they were poor and a little bit ghetto, but she always had her family, her faith, and a home to come back to. Angela however, when she was sixteen, became pregnant and had her first son during the summer she was going to be a senior in High School. It was her son, Steven, one of the greatest joys in her life, but surprisingly she didn’t give up, and relied on her strong family ties to make it through high school, graduate, and married a young man who she was certain loved her.
It took a few years, and another Pregnancy with her second son Sebastian for Angela to realize that she wasn’t happy with her Life. Her husband provided for her, but she herself was falling into habitual apathy, tinged only with her anger at her seemingly unchanging situation. Destined to be barefoot and pregnant for the rest of her young life hardly was what she had anticipated, and so one day, While Isaac, Angela’s husband was away, she packed up her two sons and left without a word, got into her station wagon and drove to the Mexican Border.
Since then Angela has been living in Villa Hermosa with her Mother’s Aunt, working as a receptionist for a hotel. Her life is simple, but she pays the bills, and keeps her family fed. However, Angela still craves change, and however much she loves her boys, there is a satisfying part of her life that is simply not present.
Character’s biggest achievement: Staying relatively sane as a young single mother
Character’s biggest flaw: volatile animosity. Angela is an angry young woman, and although she usually keeps her ‘tude in check, she blows up about things, usually stupid stuff.
How she gets to the island:
Morning light filtered into the kitchen, and the smell of simple cooking filled the room nicely. Angela sat at the table, rolling a cup of water between her hands. Aunt Mira stood at the stove, stirring eggs and chorizo idly. It would be a good breakfast.
The boys slept soundly in their bedroom. All in all, for a Saturday, it was starting out peacefully. Angela rubbed her fingers over the subtle nuances in the wood of the table. It was a good life here. Her Auntie had always been well off, and had, in the most important time of her life, taken the niece she had only seen a handful of times since her family moved from Mexico in the first place. That was one thing you could always count on Mira for, was her loyalty and kindness. Angela wondered half heartedly if she deserved that sort of patience. Even her own parents didn’t have it with her. She gave a weary Sigh and Aunt Mira clucked soothingly, "Don't worry yourself about it Maria..." It was her middle name, and what aunt Mira had called her since childhood, "You've been like a little rain cloud all week. It can't rain all the time I promise."
Angela just sighed, "I'm just so tired. I don't know what I'm doing with myself, I just... get weary, you know? Like I have no choice, you know?"
Mira tsked and poured her niece a cup of coffee, setting it on the table gently, "You work too hard. You go in later this afternoon yeah? You don't even come to church anymore." The old woman frowned worriedly, "You know the Sabbath is there for a reason, even God needed rest. You'll work yourself to death. Come to church with me tomorrow, please? Everyone worries about that you don't go anymore." Mira smiled and took the pan off the stove, and sat down next to the younger woman, "When you were little, we all thought you were really going to become a nun. I never thought you'd marry so young. But eh, you love your boys, I love your boys. I think you didn't do so badly." She smiled, "At least you won't end up old and alone like I was until you showed up. I am glad of that, you know."
Angela laughed softly and nodded, "Yeah. That's true." However the moment of mirth slipped away and she sighed, "I'm going to go lie down, Aunt Mira, see if I can't catch up on a few hours."
**
Fingers slipped on the keyboard, and Angela cursed softly to herself. Room 407... She blinked and continued typing. There was a creeping feeling in the back of her skull, like a darkness encroaching on her eyes. She wiped them blearily and pushed her self away from her desk. And then like a power outage, it was as though all the consciousness in Angela’s brain suddenly turned off.
**
Metronomic rhythm, a soft high pitched beep punctuated the stillness of the night. The room was dark except the eerie glow of medical equipment, her pulse thudding in her head and beeping on the damned machine. She hated that sound. Angela blinked wearily, watching the room around her. It was unfamiliar territory, a sterile room cast in unearthly green, and the rhythm of her mortality only serving to further her unease. A thick wooden door lay on the north side of the room, and Angela, gathering her bearings about her set to stand, pushing herself from the lumpy medical bed, the tiled floor cool to the touch beneath her feet. She wrapped her arms around herself, for she wore only a thin medical shift, and it left her feeling exposed and rather helpless, both feelings she was not happy about. She pulled the small pulse reader clipped to her finger off and grasped the rolling IV tube and holder, both for support and to drag it along.
It was perhaps amusing for her to note that unlike the movies, you didn’t want to pull an IV out of your veins until you knew exactly what it was putting into them. The IV holder squeaked in protest as she padded towards the door slowly, and reached out, grasping the handle and turning. By now she had already guessed that she was in a hospital, but she wondered what one, and why no one was with her.
**
“Mrs. Steinhoff…”
“Ms. Lourdes.” She interrupted.
“Ms. Lourdes, you do not want to be released right now. I can assure you of such.” The man looked at her critically and spoke in an uptight manner in all too perfect English, “Imagine our surprise when an American citizen is hospitalized all the way down here, in Southern Mexico…And it’s not tourist season…” He pushed his glasses up his angular nose and looked at her meaningfully, “Imagine our surprise to find out that she has two sons, who are also American citizens, who have an American father…who, by the way, did I mention, you are still married to and still, by the way did I mention, lives in America?”
Angela glowered at the man wordlessly. He continued.
“Your sons, Steven Isaac Steinhoff, age eight, and Sebastian Lucas Steinhoff, age four, are in the custody of their Father, Isaac Ramsey Steinhoff, in America. You are to be formally charged with kidnapping, negligence and endangerment in a court in America. You will be found guilty, Ms. Lourdes, because as I am sorry to say, you have no case. If only you hadn’t been so unlucky as to fall ill enough to warrant a hospital stay, your situation might have been different. Perhaps no one would have found out until the boys were old enough to testify on your behalf of your lifestyle, but currently, they are both happy to see their Father. And You, Ms. Lourdes, are still ill enough to keep you out of court. I assure you, you do not want to be released from this hospital.”
She sighed. She had, in her darkest moments and nightmares, thought that something like this could happen. She huffed angrily, tears welling up in her eyes as she spat angrily, “You act like I have a choice in the matter.” Cooperate, or go to jail, that wasn’t a choice, that was coercion. But what could you expect? This wasn’t the land of the free; this was Mexico, and better to stay in a Mexican hospital than in a Mexican prison, although the former wasn’t preferable by much. It was a fact which brought an entirely different question to mind. This hospital was modern, clean, and had equipment that was up to speed, current. Which was strange, to say the least, at least in Angela’s mind.
A small badge on one of her nurse’s uniforms had sparked the curiosity earlier. It was a private hospital, and yet, when she asked about the fees and why she had not been taken to the local low income clinic, she was told that her case was special. Pro Bono. In fact it was lucky for her, she had suffered what was called Encephalitis, a virus carried primarily by mosquitoes, and were it not for the quick action of her doctors she was told, her situation could have been drastically worse, as in, ‘Dee Eee Dee’ dead.
The man just regarded her coolly before standing, brushing himself off, “I advise that you take this into consideration, Ms. Lourdes.” He slid a plain manila envelope across the table towards her, “And do be well, please.”
The envelope seemed to stare at Angela, though it had no eyes, and the weight of the situation truly was heavy on her mind. Fingers traced the edge of the yellowed paper, and she took it gingerly. She apparently, had some reading to do.
((Will continue to edit this story portion I am currently going to bed. will work on in the morning. I am well aware i havent introduced the means yet, rest assured they will be there.
Also, feel free to critique and PM me suggestions.
Reply
