Username: xx I met my fate xx
Name: Chessie Lewlan (Her old name was Franchesca)
Age: 20
Race: Human....mostly.
Mental Illness: They claim she's a schizophrenic sociopath.
What Keeps you Sane: The charm on her necklace.
Favorite Song:
Never Too LatePowers: Keen sense of smell and Decent (Barely better than a normal person's) Night vision. Other than that, nada.
Personality: Quiet but not mournfully so. She rarely actually speaks. Chessie is generally a serious person but she doesn't seem to be particularly unhappy. She smiles easily and is mild mannered. Almost never does she meet someone's eyes, afraid they'd recoil in fear, or worse hurt her. Instead she tends to stare down at the floor.
What Sets you off: Seeing others hurt, especially children.
Your caretaker:
Bio:
Rain Rain go away...come again some other day...Rain Rain go away...come again some other day...Rain Rain...go....away....It was raining hard that day...I remember looking out the window in the front room of my parent's house. It was my 5th Birthday, or shortly after. I remember because there was a big candle shaped like a number 5 that was sitting on the counter. The dripping wax was dry and hardened so it had been out of the cake and blown out for quite some time. I was humming that little song to myself and I could hear my neighbour talking with some uniformed policemen in the kitchen.
"No...I don't think she has any other family..." I could heard the woman say. Her blonde curls bobbed up and down as she spoke. She had a long neck rather like a turkey and just as much of a wrinkly sack of skin below it. I had always thought she was the oldest woman in existence...She was probably in her 60's or so.
A man's deep voice muttered something I couldn't hear over the rain but Mrs. Turkey's voice carried more easily when she replied.
"Of course I haven't told her!" She snapped. "I barely know the child. How am I supposed to tell a 5 year old girl that her parents were shot in their own kitchen." Her voice had grown more shrill with each word and she dabbed at her face with a yellowed handkerchief. The piece of thin cloth had seen better days. Its edges were fraying and most of the embroidery was gone. In some odd way it sort of matched the woman using it. Both were past their prime, long past.
Deep Voice rumbled again and I saw him peer out of the room towards me. Quickly I stared back out the window and pretended not to be listening. I'm sure he wasn't convinced. Finally he and his partner, a man that until that moment I'd simply called "Silent" in my head, left. Looking through the window I watched as they got into a sleek black car and the old woman bustled back into the livingroom.
"Mummy and Daddy are dead." I said quietly. Staring up at the woman I didn't blink once and she looked away from my steady gaze. It wasn't for the same reason most people look away now, back then my eyes were brown.
"Y-yes." Finally she spoke. "Yes they are Franny."
"Daddy called me Chessie. Franny sounds like Fanny and that means butt." My chin raised stubbornly as I looked at her. "And I am not a butt." To me it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course I wasn't a butt. I was a little girl!
She nodded, still trying not to meet my gaze. I know now that it was because she felt guilty. I truly doubt that the old Mrs. Turkey - I still don't remember her real name - knew what would befall me after that day but she definitely knew that no matter what I wasn't going to be happy going with anyone who wasn't my parents. "I called some people. They're going to come get you young lady...today. I want you to be a good little girl for them, okay?"
I didn't know what an orphanage was then but it was a word that had been tossed around by the police as they talked to her. I just nodded however and she bustled her way back into the kitchen. A few hours later the rain hadn't yet let up and
they came.
All in white they were dressed, a cruel mockery of their true purpose. I feel as though they should wear black, those agents of death. They took me away, brought me here..The years following were wracked with pain and screams. I can scarcely separate the days from the nights. Waking, being injected, sleeping. Waking, being injected, sleeping. On and on it went. Their experiments obviously failed and when I turned 15 they finally left me alone. Since then I've been here on the floor with the crazies. My eyes are now a brilliant orange and I can see in the dark. Not well mind you, but better than most people. I can also smell things differently than others. I heard a girl once say that they had tried to make me a weird human/cat hybrid. I don't care. As long as they leave me alone.
Most residents are allowed to leave this place when they turn 18. I wasn't. They claimed I was crazy...kept me here to protect their precious failed research...or their secrets. Either way, I'm stuck. I wouldn't run if I could...where could I go, knowing no more of the outside world than a child? I was educated yes but education can't give you the social skills necessary to succeed. Even I know that. I have a collar that belonged to my dog when I was little. I wear it around my neck and when I look at it, it keeps me calm.
