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Freewrite #3 [Tempest's Background] |
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Maybe it was stupid of me to defy my parents. In hindsight, I could have used a little more finesse when going about it. Sure, I'm smart, but I don't plan things out particularly well. So I wasn't entirely prepared to be betrayed by my sole co-conspirator, nor was I ready to have my entire life ripped away from my hands.
I'm sorry. I'm going about this all wrong. I should start at the beginning, shouldn't I?
Well, my rebellion began when I noticed something weird about my parent's job. When other kids would challenge each other, saying, "Oh yeah? Well MY dad does such-and-such, and he earns a whole lot more than your parents do combined!" I had nothing to say. I had no clue as to what my parents did. I only knew that we were rich and I had never seen them in a "business meeting".
You can imagine what I felt when they left me on yet another birthday to go to one of those. I was turning thirteen, and was so happy to finally be a teenager. My middle name could have been 'Naiive'. However, that day I didn't stay in the fancy soiree filled with grownups I'd never seen before like they had asked. I was planning on surprising their business partners with my intelligence and politeness. It was time they showed me what they did, anyways. Boy, that was one of the worst mistakes of my life. Which, I'm sorry to say, could be split into increments of three years from that point on. When I saw what truly happened at their business meetings, I was horrified. I had used the spacious airducts of the house to spy on them and only found the coppery smell of fresh blood and the ringing sounds of guns. Our home was so big, it had hidden their activities from me for my entire childhood.
I was terrified, angry, betrayed. This, however, was only a taste of what was to come. I rebelled, of course, almost went so far as to contact the police, only to find out they were more on my parents's side than the thugs that were usually tailing me. I ran away, committed crimes, did some underage drinking... everything an emotionally disturbed teenager would do in a little personal crisis. And my parents retaliated by homeschooling me, enrolling me in classes of all kinds to straighten me out, punishing me after finally finding me. They had been expecting an easily-manipulated daughter for their many schemes. They were sorely disappointed.
Eventually, I was drew close to eighteen. I could rid myself of my parents forever. Or so I thought. I was stupid. Instead of waiting a few months for freedom, I called a contact of mine that I thought I could trust. That was after I destroyed all of the computers, cell phones, pagers, and any other electronic connected with their work that we could find. We were going to wait for my parents to hold another business meeting with an unruly partner (if they ignored the smashed technology) and take photos of them "conducting their business".
Apparently, my parents had payed the man off. Before I could say, "You filthy backstabber", I was gagged, tied, and thrown into the back of a limosine. Let's just say that my parents and I had a 'heart to heart'. I had grown to be a nuisance and a threat to them. I could have exposed them to the upright business world, or sold a couple of secrets to their enemies... Instead I only showed them how powerful I was.
Now, my parents had invested in a research facility far away from the city. This facility desperately needed subjects for experimentation. What better way to get rid of a troublesome daughter than to give her up to a bunch of old men in lab coats?
You can imagine my anger, my sense of betrayal, and my frustration.
The next phase of my life was a little bit fuzzy. I vaguely remember being naked most of the time, floating in a water-filled containment unit with monitors attached to me. I also remember pain and electricity- a whole lot of the two. How I escaped, I'm not sure. Maybe there was a power surge. Maybe the equipment malfunctioned. I don't remember anything between the containment unit exploding and waking up in an alley somewhere to the sound of a voice. He was nice. His name was Jaime. He took me in, made sure I could understand human language again. I had lost my memories- I had no recollection of anything beyond waking up in that alley. I must say that the week I knew him was the best of my life. Jaime was old, a concept that I hardly knew since my parents generally didn't have any friends that lived to be fifty. His skin was dark and his hair was white. He played the guitar like a demon and he could make me smile, even through my nightly terrors. He gave me a name. I'll never forget him, or the day he died. He had a heart attack. I don't want to talk about it.
After that, I was on my own. At least this time I was a little more prepared. I hadn't really changed physically since leaving the facility. I could feel gills on the side of my neck- those were hard to miss. I was definitely changed mentally. With my memories gone, I was a little on the strange side. My inhibitions were gone and it took some pain to regain a sense of what I could and could not do. Eventually, I wisened up and looked for a job- hunger pains taught me the value of money. I found a job. I must have impressed the bartender with my body- after a couple of drinks I was spouting out stuff that would have a monkey confused. With the promise that I wouldn't drink on the job, they hired me to entertain the customers and keep them occupied long enough to buy more alcohol. I took what was left in their pockets after they passed out.
I learned a lot about drunkards, about pain... The couple of months I was in that business were... interesting, to say the least. I was getting bored when a man approached me and offered a more exciting way to rob people- breaking and entering.
I'll tell you more later. I wince just at the thought of my stupidity. Why did I accept? Oh, right. It sounded like fun.
TempestuousSeas · Sat Apr 14, 2007 @ 09:42pm · 0 Comments |
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