Post by →izzehkins← on Sept 5, 2009 18:12:34 GMT -6
so, i'm not putting the whole bio in, but i was like WHOA LONG HISTORY so i thought i'd share it with you.
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Medea was never born crazy – and it wasn’t even her family that made her that way. Her parents had been married for five years when they decided that they wanted a baby. It wasn’t a hard thing for them to achieve, and about a year after making this decision, Medea was born.
From the day she was born, she was showered with love and affection. And that was how she grew up. But, as always, there were cracks between parents and child. She might have always been the perfect child on the outside, but on the inside she longed to rebel. She got A’s because that was what her parents asked of her, and dreamed of throwing all the perfect report cards in their faces.
Both her parents were very smart, successful people – and they expected the same of their child. They pushed her to the point of breaking, and that was where she stayed for years – barely holding it together. But on the outside, she was still her parent’s angel daughter – maybe why she was so left alone.
But when she was a freshman, she got her chance to spit in the face of the ideals her parents valued so much. His name was Matthew Richardson. He was a sophomore at her high school, failing half his classes, ditching school – and had that devil-may-care attitude that attracted half the girls in the school.
Even before he showed any interest in her, Medea was infatuated with him. He was attractive, he couldn’t care less about the world, and he was just…what she wanted. And he showed an interest in her as well.
From the start, her parents hated him. He had a criminal record – nothing important, just shoplifting and a few DUI’s – he skipped school and failed it, and he was not suited to their daughter. But he was what she wanted, and there was nothing they could do to stop her. A rebellion was what she’d wanted for years, and they were not going to stop her when she finally got it. It was a thrill, doing something that they hated.
He was always sweet. He gave her presents just because, knew everything she liked. She loved him, and she was sure he did too, even if he didn’t say it. She was all his.
He asked to her skip school sometimes – he just couldn’t be away from her a minute longer. And like the good little girlfriend, the rebel she wanted to be, she did it. The days that she missed increased, and it wasn’t long before her parents found out.
They were furious, of course, and they knew why she was doing this. It was ‘that boy’ she was seeing, and they were determined to put her on the right track, whether she liked it or not. They forbade her to see him ever again, call him, text him – and they were deaf to her screaming, blind to her tears.
But could they stop her? If you answered no, you’re right. She’d told Matt she’d meet him at eight that night, and she wasn’t going to miss that for the world. Matt was her world. Her friends were all the types that Medea’s parents wanted her to be, and they didn’t approve of Matt at all. So they’d drifted apart, until Matt was all Medea had.
He was happy to see her, though she was late, but something seemed off that night. She didn’t ask about it that night – she figured that it was just because she hadn’t been able to tell him she’d be late. She ignored it.
Until she was late again.
It was just a simple thing. Her English teacher, in the last class of the day, called her up to see him. He was concerned about the amount of times she’d missed school. He was worried about her, thinking something might be wrong. She reassured him, eager to get out of the class and see Matt.
He wasn’t happy when she was fifteen minutes late to their meeting spot – but this time Medea asked why. He avoided the question, saying there was nothing wrong, but she pressed him. When he kept denying it, her voice was raised. Why was he mad at her, she asked. It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong!
It was very fast. She was falling, shocked at what had caused it. His hands on her shoulders, shoving. She hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. A blow to the stomach told her he wasn’t done yet. Another ot the back, yet another to the stomach. She stayed, curled up on the ground, crying. What was happening?
Don’t ever talk to me like that, he said, voice low and full of rage. Shut up.
She did, and she walked home, wiping away her tears and shaking from pain and shock as she went. But whatever the reason, she didn’t tell her parents what had happened. She told them she’d had a fight with a friend, refusing to let them know that they’d been right. But still, she was firm in her belief that she and Matt were done.
But he found her the next day, and asked her if she’d meet him after school. She said yes, still unable to resist him.
She showed up, schooling her face into an icy expression. He said he was so, so sorry, begged her to take him back. And even though it killed her to watch him, wanting her to come back so badly, she said no.
It was that that made him cry. He told her he loved her, sobbed that he couldn’t live without her. All of that was a factor, but nothing got to her like the tears. Matt never, ever cried. It was his careless, tough attitude that had first attracted her, but it was his tears that prompted her to wrap her arms around him and tell him she was sorry, she loved him too, and she wanted him back too.
It was another two months of the good times before anything happened again. He was extra attentive, buying her presents calling her just to tell her he loved her. She almost forgot about the incident.
But did things like that ever stop? No, they did not. She had a science project, and as Matt wasn’t in her science class, she was partnered with John Santori. So she was talking to him about what to do about the project while she waited for Matt. She waved when her boyfriend showed up.
They walked on the route to her home, where they always went. But when they were alone, he turned on her. Wanting to know who that boy was. Why she was talking to him. Her explanation only bought her a bruised wrist, as he pulled her closer to him, gripping her wrist until she swore she could feel the bones cracking. It didn’t end there. He punched her, in the stomach, the chest, the arms. And she was too shocked to do anything.
And then he calmed down, and they continued their walk in silence. When they got there, he held her tenderly while he kissed her goodbye.
But that was the last time she was safe. It only decended into hell from there. Before, her life had only revolved around him because she chose it, and she could walk away. But now he was the one in control. It only took a few more beatings for her to get the message – don’t be late. Don’t talk to people he didn’t want her to. Do whatever he wanted, and don’t argue.
She stopped talking to anyone more than absolutely necessary. She started failing her classes, because she was so wrapped up in Matt. Some people noticed, but she wouldn’t be helped. She just wanted to avoid the bad beatings. She could handle one blow, or two. She didn’t want more.
They started sleeping together, in the safe periods after he’d hit her. When he was sorry, and afraid she’d leave. But she never would. He was all she had – he’d successfully cut her off from her friends, her family, anyone who might have been able to keep her away from him. She still loved him – or thought she did – but it was mixed with fear, and these safe times did nothing to alleviate that. And that was why everything changed.
She always stayed awake long after he’d fallen asleep, afraid that if he woke up while she was asleep, he would be angry, and she would wake to a beating. Overtime, it grew into a habit. Stay awake as long as could possibly be managed.
She was staying with him that night, once again. She’d snuck out, and it wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing. But tonight was different. They’d had a fight, sat not speaking for a while. Then he’d kissed her, reaching for her, and she’d succumbed because she wanted the Matt that loved her, that didn’t hurt her. But they were becoming so hard to tell apart.
That was the night she got out of his bed, pulling on his clothes. She didn’t really consciously tell herself to – it was just one of those things she did. All she was thinking of was that first time he’d beaten her, her fear, and the days before that, that were boring but safe. She could no longer differentiate between the boy she loved and the one she feared. And that was what was going through her head when she grabbed the knife, walked back to his room, where he was asleep, and plunged the knife into his chest. And again, and again. She didn’t stop until there was very little of his chest left, and his bed, his walls, the rest of his body, and his girl were drenched in his blood.
That morning, his mother came in to wake him up, and found her son, with very little left of his torso, the room covered in blood, and his girlfriend, with a knife, and screamed. His father called the police, and Medea was carted off to prison. She went to court, pleading guilty. And the rest is history.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Medea was never born crazy – and it wasn’t even her family that made her that way. Her parents had been married for five years when they decided that they wanted a baby. It wasn’t a hard thing for them to achieve, and about a year after making this decision, Medea was born.
From the day she was born, she was showered with love and affection. And that was how she grew up. But, as always, there were cracks between parents and child. She might have always been the perfect child on the outside, but on the inside she longed to rebel. She got A’s because that was what her parents asked of her, and dreamed of throwing all the perfect report cards in their faces.
Both her parents were very smart, successful people – and they expected the same of their child. They pushed her to the point of breaking, and that was where she stayed for years – barely holding it together. But on the outside, she was still her parent’s angel daughter – maybe why she was so left alone.
But when she was a freshman, she got her chance to spit in the face of the ideals her parents valued so much. His name was Matthew Richardson. He was a sophomore at her high school, failing half his classes, ditching school – and had that devil-may-care attitude that attracted half the girls in the school.
Even before he showed any interest in her, Medea was infatuated with him. He was attractive, he couldn’t care less about the world, and he was just…what she wanted. And he showed an interest in her as well.
From the start, her parents hated him. He had a criminal record – nothing important, just shoplifting and a few DUI’s – he skipped school and failed it, and he was not suited to their daughter. But he was what she wanted, and there was nothing they could do to stop her. A rebellion was what she’d wanted for years, and they were not going to stop her when she finally got it. It was a thrill, doing something that they hated.
He was always sweet. He gave her presents just because, knew everything she liked. She loved him, and she was sure he did too, even if he didn’t say it. She was all his.
He asked to her skip school sometimes – he just couldn’t be away from her a minute longer. And like the good little girlfriend, the rebel she wanted to be, she did it. The days that she missed increased, and it wasn’t long before her parents found out.
They were furious, of course, and they knew why she was doing this. It was ‘that boy’ she was seeing, and they were determined to put her on the right track, whether she liked it or not. They forbade her to see him ever again, call him, text him – and they were deaf to her screaming, blind to her tears.
But could they stop her? If you answered no, you’re right. She’d told Matt she’d meet him at eight that night, and she wasn’t going to miss that for the world. Matt was her world. Her friends were all the types that Medea’s parents wanted her to be, and they didn’t approve of Matt at all. So they’d drifted apart, until Matt was all Medea had.
He was happy to see her, though she was late, but something seemed off that night. She didn’t ask about it that night – she figured that it was just because she hadn’t been able to tell him she’d be late. She ignored it.
Until she was late again.
It was just a simple thing. Her English teacher, in the last class of the day, called her up to see him. He was concerned about the amount of times she’d missed school. He was worried about her, thinking something might be wrong. She reassured him, eager to get out of the class and see Matt.
He wasn’t happy when she was fifteen minutes late to their meeting spot – but this time Medea asked why. He avoided the question, saying there was nothing wrong, but she pressed him. When he kept denying it, her voice was raised. Why was he mad at her, she asked. It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong!
It was very fast. She was falling, shocked at what had caused it. His hands on her shoulders, shoving. She hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. A blow to the stomach told her he wasn’t done yet. Another ot the back, yet another to the stomach. She stayed, curled up on the ground, crying. What was happening?
Don’t ever talk to me like that, he said, voice low and full of rage. Shut up.
She did, and she walked home, wiping away her tears and shaking from pain and shock as she went. But whatever the reason, she didn’t tell her parents what had happened. She told them she’d had a fight with a friend, refusing to let them know that they’d been right. But still, she was firm in her belief that she and Matt were done.
But he found her the next day, and asked her if she’d meet him after school. She said yes, still unable to resist him.
She showed up, schooling her face into an icy expression. He said he was so, so sorry, begged her to take him back. And even though it killed her to watch him, wanting her to come back so badly, she said no.
It was that that made him cry. He told her he loved her, sobbed that he couldn’t live without her. All of that was a factor, but nothing got to her like the tears. Matt never, ever cried. It was his careless, tough attitude that had first attracted her, but it was his tears that prompted her to wrap her arms around him and tell him she was sorry, she loved him too, and she wanted him back too.
It was another two months of the good times before anything happened again. He was extra attentive, buying her presents calling her just to tell her he loved her. She almost forgot about the incident.
But did things like that ever stop? No, they did not. She had a science project, and as Matt wasn’t in her science class, she was partnered with John Santori. So she was talking to him about what to do about the project while she waited for Matt. She waved when her boyfriend showed up.
They walked on the route to her home, where they always went. But when they were alone, he turned on her. Wanting to know who that boy was. Why she was talking to him. Her explanation only bought her a bruised wrist, as he pulled her closer to him, gripping her wrist until she swore she could feel the bones cracking. It didn’t end there. He punched her, in the stomach, the chest, the arms. And she was too shocked to do anything.
And then he calmed down, and they continued their walk in silence. When they got there, he held her tenderly while he kissed her goodbye.
But that was the last time she was safe. It only decended into hell from there. Before, her life had only revolved around him because she chose it, and she could walk away. But now he was the one in control. It only took a few more beatings for her to get the message – don’t be late. Don’t talk to people he didn’t want her to. Do whatever he wanted, and don’t argue.
She stopped talking to anyone more than absolutely necessary. She started failing her classes, because she was so wrapped up in Matt. Some people noticed, but she wouldn’t be helped. She just wanted to avoid the bad beatings. She could handle one blow, or two. She didn’t want more.
They started sleeping together, in the safe periods after he’d hit her. When he was sorry, and afraid she’d leave. But she never would. He was all she had – he’d successfully cut her off from her friends, her family, anyone who might have been able to keep her away from him. She still loved him – or thought she did – but it was mixed with fear, and these safe times did nothing to alleviate that. And that was why everything changed.
She always stayed awake long after he’d fallen asleep, afraid that if he woke up while she was asleep, he would be angry, and she would wake to a beating. Overtime, it grew into a habit. Stay awake as long as could possibly be managed.
She was staying with him that night, once again. She’d snuck out, and it wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing. But tonight was different. They’d had a fight, sat not speaking for a while. Then he’d kissed her, reaching for her, and she’d succumbed because she wanted the Matt that loved her, that didn’t hurt her. But they were becoming so hard to tell apart.
That was the night she got out of his bed, pulling on his clothes. She didn’t really consciously tell herself to – it was just one of those things she did. All she was thinking of was that first time he’d beaten her, her fear, and the days before that, that were boring but safe. She could no longer differentiate between the boy she loved and the one she feared. And that was what was going through her head when she grabbed the knife, walked back to his room, where he was asleep, and plunged the knife into his chest. And again, and again. She didn’t stop until there was very little of his chest left, and his bed, his walls, the rest of his body, and his girl were drenched in his blood.
That morning, his mother came in to wake him up, and found her son, with very little left of his torso, the room covered in blood, and his girlfriend, with a knife, and screamed. His father called the police, and Medea was carted off to prison. She went to court, pleading guilty. And the rest is history.
