Post by evan leia prescott on Dec 11, 2010 2:04:19 GMT -5
EVAN LEIA PRESCOTT.
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EV , 19 , NYU STUDENT , KOTA.
[/justify]I was brought into this world by two people who really couldn’t handle themselves, let alone two children. My older brother, Alexander was perfect. Even as an infant, he was bright and beautiful. In time, he only grew to be cunning, beautiful and perfect - just the child my parents had always wanted. As for me... well, I didn’t end up leveling their standards too well. I was born on the 17th of August, 1991 in London, England. My parents were less than ecstatic about my birth. In fact, they were so obsessed with having another boy, that when I was born a girl - they continued to name me Evan. As if no one would notice that I was a girl... My mum was the most upset by my birth. She had been sure her dysfunctional life would be completed by another boy, Evan, me. My mum, Anne, was a high fashion model, who traveled all over the world, living a grand and quite glamorous life, until she met my father, George, at the age of thirty. By the time the two settled down, my mum was already pregnant. It was quite a shock to her, really. Her body would be ruined, she would never work again (for all she could do is model, useless wretch.) and she would never be the size 0 she was before she had my brother. But, the pain wouldn’t last long. However, it would be replaced by the birth of me. I would be the last straw, the thing that set her off, and threw her on to the path of no return. Hooray for me, right?
Two years after I was born, my mother was completely gone. Drinking as if she had nothing else to do. Although, she was still very involved in my brothers life, along with my business man father. I, on the other hand, was ignored. It was at the moment I was just learning to walk, to talk. My families house maid - Renee took care of me, while my mother attended to Alex. I went every night without a good night from my drunken mother, or my father. Occasionally he would acknowledge my presence, and talk to me as if I were his daughter that he loved... but that was a rare occasion. I grew up knowing Renee as my mum... A French woman, with strict rules, and a soft heart for me. At the age of six I developed my first alter ego, “Charlie.” Charlie is my sadistic, sick and twisted alter-ego. She comes out to play most of the time, as if I’m lusting to hurt people. I guess I am, but it’s not me who does it. It’s Charlie. At first, Renee was the only one who took notice of Charlie. She was quite scared of me, for I had ripped all my stuffed animals apart and impaled them to the walls. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but Renee did. She was worried for me. She took me home to her mama who had been a psychiatrist at one of the best mental hospitals in London. She talked to me for a while, but I was never a chatty child. I was always quiet, not caring to speak. Even when someone was speaking to me, I chose not to answer. It was the easiest way to get through my child hood, I know now.
Anyway, I talked to Mama Desmarais occasionally, and when Charlie would come I became unstoppable. I couldn’t shut up. I just went on and on about things, about my mum and how she didn’t care because I was evil. Mama Desmarais looked rather disturbed, rather hurt. But, she didn’t say a word. She let Renee take me back home, no diagnoses or anything. By the time I was ten, I formulated Anika. I was Russian, and sweet. Though, I was abused by the Aliens. Renee, once again was the only person who noticed. Even when I was being Charlie or Anika around my parents, they never took notice... they didn’t care. I was nonexistent to them. Evan wasn’t their child. Evan was the little boy they so wished they had. As far as they were concerned, their daughter Evan had died at birth. But, my brother, who was fourteen at the time, started to take notice. He had grown rather fond of me in the last couple of years, but he had never noticed “Charlie”. Until, I began playing Anika. Anika was abused by her father, rather the Alien. I would beat myself senseless, until I was bruised black and blue. I would pretend I was dying half the time. Again, this scared Renee, and quite shocked Alex. He came with me to one of my various talks with Mama Desmarais. She was very interested in me. In Anika, in Charlie. She payed more attention to me then anyone in the last ten years of my life had. She was the first, and the only person, to this day that I ever loved. She never judged me... Alex, and Renee did. Called me crazy, even when I insisted I wasn’t. The two together, pushed me to being very angry, lashing out at them more then at my alter ego Anika.
When I was seventeen, I had met a few kids who decided I fit right in with them. Michael and Antonio. Antonio had had a crush on me since I was thirteen, I knew... and Michael, I think he was starting to adore me as well. Even if I was Charlie one minute, and Anika the next. They made me feel wanted, needed. Though, it wasn’t just a friendship built like most friendships were built. I was still seeing Mama Desmarais weekly, and hanging out with Michael and Antonio every chance I got. They had introduced me to drugs and alcohol. I had always know about these things, but I had never wanted to try them. I always clung onto the hope that my mum, or my father would notice me. Specially if I was good. Michael made me see the light in that. He went through a similar thing when he was young, he father disowned him and his mum had died when he was just four. It was sad, but my story was just as sad. If not more. Michael and I did drugs together, drank together, stayed out all night together, splurged in art together. Antonio would have hung out with us more, but I believe he was upset that I didn’t pay much attention to him. He began to hate me, causing me more pain then he would ever know. A year after I had met the two wonderful boys, I formed my last, and final alter ego. Alice was her name, and she was French, like Renee and Mama Desmarais. She was worse then the other, though. She was completely crazy, taking over my mind. She was out to get people. A cold blooded killer. She was ruthless, and had no feelings. She rarely spoke, and when she did it was either a threat, or some bitchy comment. She, like Charlie, lusted to hurt people - but not in the sense of breaking them down. Alice wanted to kill people, she wanted to physically break them.
Her first victim was Antonio. I don’t remember much of what happened, but I do know how I got to that point. He was bitching again. Whining about how all I ever did was hang out with Michael, talk about Michael, include Michael but not him. Alice at that point was tired of hearing about him. Tired of his constant bitching... Like, I said... I don’t remember what I did, that’s all a mystery, but I do remember waking up next to him, his face a bloody pulp. Anika was scared. So scared, she called the police and Mama Desmarais. The police asked Anika what had happened, but she replied she didn’t know. She had found him like that. They were supposed to meet up, to hang out. All the while, Alice was laughing inside my head, cackling. She knew what had happened, for she had done it. Mama Desmarais picked me up from the police station, and had a serious talk with me that night. She informed me that I had Multiple Personality Disorder, and I was Borderline Psychotic. She’d been studying me for years, and years. As much as I loved Mama Desmarais, I couldn’t believe what she was saying to me, rather, Charlie couldn’t. I left her house immediately, going to the only person who could understand me; Michael. Though, he didn’t quite understand who Alice was, or why she had done what she did to Antonio. In any case, he took me in, took care of me as best he could... until, until I said those three words. I had never said them in my entire life, but with Michael I did. I whispered them as if it were the only thing I could say to him. He was shocked, more upset then anything else. For, Michael hadn’t ever been told those words, you see.
In any case, he didn’t hold it against me. He didn’t reply though, which broke my heart. The next day he sent me back to Mama Desmarais’ house to apologize. I was in my right mind then, I was being Evan. And I was sober. He had managed to keep me away from drugs, away from alcohol, for a full forty-eight hours. It was the longest running time I’d ever been, clean. Even today. Anyways, Mama Desmarais took me in, accepted my apology and presented me with some good news. She wanted me to get away. To have a new start, away from London, away from my ‘perfect’ brother, away from Renee, away from Michael and my horrid parents. She surprised me with tickets to New York, and an acceptance letter into New York University. I was sober, and touched. Like, I said - Mama Desmarais was the only person, even now, that I ever loved. Even if I had said it to Michael, it didn’t mean anything... he left me in the end, just like every one else did. Mama Desmarais took me to New York, got me settled down into an apartment, into a routine. She kept me sober for school days, and let me run my havoc at night. She gave up so much to keep me alive, keep me well, and somewhat happy. But as every one else did, she left. She had to return to London, to her job, to her Renee.
Once she left, I fell apart for good. Alice was reeking havoc on my brain, on the people I knew. I couldn’t control myself. I was victimizing people, men, women, left and right. When I was playing Anika I was an emotional wreck as Alice would show her images of what’d she done. When Charlie was in charge, all I did was binge. Binge on drinks, and drugs. And, as for me, Evan - Evan landed me one solid job: dealer. She also got me and all my egos into modeling. Not that I was a huge star or anything, but it paid for food and things I needed, along with my dealing. Mama Desmarais, wrote to me every single day, and paid for school, and my flat... she tried to keep me well even if she was 5,000 miles away. It hasn’t been working, not for the last year anyway. I didn’t want to confess I was falling apart, for I didn’t, and don’t want to keep her from her life. Plus, I’m not even her own child, I’m just some charity case. Anyways, that’s my story, that’s who I am. I’m just waiting for the day when Alice commits a murder, or when Anika commits suicide, or when Charlie overdoses - until then, I guess I’ll just have to keep on this roller coaster ride and see where I end up. All I know is, no one can stop me, no matter who they are. I’ll keep causing chaos until the day I die.
