D2 ] Astra Vincent \\ done

I'm thinking they'll know just about everything,
I bet they planned it all out,
Like the shows
Went everywhere I go.
Walked into the store right behind me,
Stood in line right beside me and followed me to my home.
I'm sure they figured it out early on
That I would never run.
That they could shoot but that's not fun,
Cause then they're killing their stolen son.

The little brown box sits on the bed, conspicuous against the plain white sheets. "Astra's Stuff" is scrawled in messy hand on the lid.

Inside the box sit a small black book with various pink stickers on it and a recording device. The intruder steps closer to the box and picks out first the device, then the little black book. The date scrawled on the device is much before the book and so it will be played before anything else. Cautiously, the intruder looks around and nods: the owner of the diaries - a short, freckled, redheaded girl with slightly downturned blue eyes - is nowhere to be seen. That suits the intruder just fine.

Recording #1

My name is Astra. This is the name I have to remember because the rest of them are lies, written by other people and they're lies. This is me. I am Astra and I am no one else.

This is a reminder to myself that, in case anything should happen, I should always stop to remember myself. I'm not about to give up. I mustn't rush ahead like before. I have to stop and think about what I'm doing - I can do that, can't I?

I can be stubborn, or I want to be. No, I need to be stubborn, I need to hang onto that bone with all my strength... At the very least, I have to try be strong. Even if I'm hurt - I'm always hurt but I can get past that. It's all behind me - I can't give up.

My name is Astra and I am nobody else.

end of recording


Recording #2

My mind is the most important part of me, and I'm losing it. It's a game they're playing with me and I know it. They've wrecked my life - on a significantly smaller scale than he did but my point remains that I am an anomaly, an outcast amongst the people of Two. I'm the weirdo, the witless, the weak, the little bitch.

I get hurt when people hate me, I don't want to be hurt by them anymore. What am I doing wrong? What have I done wrong? I can't control it. I can't control myself, or them, or anyone. I'm a pawn, a piece of life that shouldn't be here. I didn't deserve any of it. Did I?

I'm fucking proud of it.

I'm a fighter but I can't fight people who don't exist. They don't exist. None of them are real and they need to know that I'm in control. I'm the captain of this ship and they have no right to come in and take the wheel because I do what I want to do. They have no right to me or anything around me.

They're not even real. They belong to a person and a past that won't have any hold on me because I know how to kill. And I killed him. I killed him with my bare hands. He won't ever hurt his children again. He won't ever hurt me again - I won't be his pawn, his relief, his daughter, his anything. He'll never touch me from where he is. I won't let it happen.

And my family, the rest of my family, if... if they try anything funny, if they try to hurt me again I can kill them too. I don't have to stop at one. I'm a killer already so it makes no difference. I'm proud of myself. Aren't I?

I can't doubt myself ever. I can't give in because giving in means he's won and I can't let him win, even if I think he has.

End of recording


Recording #3

It hurts. They... It was... one of them. Wasn't it? Did I do it before? My... my finger. Oh god, it burns, what did they do? I don't understand... why would they do it? It hurts. Oh god. It hurts so much.

They... they cut it off. My pinky. I don't... I don't understand. Why... why would they do it? Why would they...? What have I done?

End of recording


Recording #4

Bruises. I woke up today and I had bruises everywhere. I... I don't remember how I got there but I woke up in the garden. It wasn't even my garden... it was someone else's garden. They chased me out. I... I don't know what happened.

I have to try, though. I'm the one in charge... I have to know what happened.

They're nothing. Even if they've given themselves names they're nothing but figments of my own goddamn imagination and I won't let them make themselves at home in my body. I'll fight. I'll fight them-

"What a... waste of good personality. Astra... Astra is a weak little coward, afraid of herself more than anything. Heh. She won't ever be in control because she doesn't know what to do if she has it.

Poor, poor child. Maybe she just needs a little more fire."

End of recording. The rest of the recordings are broken.


Name: Astra Loptr Vincent
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Height: 5 feet and 2 inches

[/color]

Dear diary,

Today the kids at school kept calling me ginger. Just because I have red hair doesn't automatically mean I've got a temper, though they treat me like I do. It's rude and it hurts. I wish they'll stop. And one of the girls came up to me and pinched my cheeks saying I was too pale. I don't know why she did that but she slapped me too. I've never fought her even though she says I have and she wants to try winning. I had to run away.

But mother made my favorite food for dinner today, scrambled eggs and toast, and that calmed me down. I love my mother.

~J[/size]


Entry #1

I have another diary? What kind of person am I anyway? Not a diary-toting kind, obviously. This thing is covered in broken leather too, and screw all that.

It's filthy, and I should burn it.

I do like fire.

-Lotpr


date/time

I don't want to be here.

I don't want to be alive.

Nobody cares. Everybody hates me.

Mother speaks like I'm some kind of timer to go off but I can't do anything. I can't control anything.

I can't live like this.

I just need someone to care.


Dear diary,

People have been writing weird things in my diary. That's very strange, and also very rude.

I made myself a dress today, diary! It's beautiful, I made it with the leftover brown fabric in the attic from mother's last dress. She didn't say anything when she saw me in it, but I know she's so proud of me. My brother just said that I need to eat more so I can train better, but I don't want to train to be a career. I want to learn to bake and do nice things for people.

I wonder if someone will teach me to make necklaces... I wish I belonged in District 1, then I can do whatever I want. And not get all dirty and dusty from the people coming home from the mines. Gross.

I can't find my textbooks and I'm really worried about that, diary. I wonder if someone took them... I don't understand how people can be so mean like that. Oh well.

I should[/size]

The rest of the page is left blank but for a line from a falling pen.


Entry #2

It's still here.

Why is it still here?

I want it gone. This thing is a nuisance and anyone who reads it will know what's going on. I am in control. I'm the only person in control, everyone else is crazy and stupid. I'm meant to be here.

They aren't.

-Loptr


Dear diary,

Something strange happened today, diary. I was in training today and then I just.... blanked out. I don't know what happened but the next time I woke up the boy I was fighting was on the ground and people were pinning my arms behind my back. It's so weird, they said I flattened him but I don't remember how I did it. Shouldn't I? I mean, it would have been scary if I hurt him. It's even scarier because I don't remember it. I'm worried, diary - am I going mad?

A bad part of that is I wanted to be his friend before. He seemed really nice so we were going to go for a walk and maybe he'll teach me stuff, like fighting, even though it's gross. But now... I said sorry for it. He shrugged, and I don't think he wants to be my friend now.

~J


Entry #3

One of them played a trick on my... 'brother'. I got to see it happen and I'm glad, because everything else is so boring. It was hilarious, the way he reacted, scratching, itching, face twisted in a grimace. And it was in public too - everyone will talk about this, I know.

I'm a genius, obviously.

He probably won't ever figure out that any of us did it. Besides, he knows I was with one of the boys in school - I made sure he heard every little bit of it.

-Loptr


date/time

Why does he keep hurting me?

Why do mom and Theon allow him to hurt me? They... they can hear. I know they can hear me.


Dear diary,

I think there's something wrong with me. Every time I think about it... I begin to realize that there are other things I don't remember doing. Like putting on my clothes, sometimes. Or going to school. Or being in school.

I

The rest of the page is blank.


Entry #4

Nobody will know. I'm ending it - or someone will do it for me because I'm in control.

Maybe my name will be the last thing I see.

-Loptr


date/time

The page is covered in blood.


Dear diary,

I wonder if my brother hurt himself accidentally. I'm worried about him, he's been giving me strange looks and maybe they've been bullying him because of me, too. How rude, though, that he hurt himself all over my precious diary.

Today I woke up and my arms were hurting. Someone had wrapped them in bandages - I must have hurt myself without realizing it.

I hope brother's alright.

~J


Dear diary,

Well, diary, I remembered the past two days and I think it's the longest I've remembered anything. I think I'm getting better - I think I was sick before, with some kind of illness that made me forget things but I remember everything now. I'm glad for it.

It's just me and mother and brother at home these two days. It's very quiet and mother keeps petting my hair. I asked her to teach me to braid it and she said yes.

There's something new going on here in district two. A career arena thing. Brother said I should join and he seemed to mean it. I guess I would learn a lot, so I might... Besides, this way no one can make fun of me, if I win. right?

I'll sign up tomorrow morning.

~J[/font][/blockquote][/color][/size]

The girl is on her way home. The intruder can see her from her bedroom window, walking down the street to her house. Her long hair is tied in a fishtail braid, stray locks framing her oval-shaped face. A small smile is on her pink lips and she looks oddly happy.

Bruises circle her tiny wrists when she reaches to open the door, the sleeves of her shirt not long enough to cover them all. Frowning, the intruder leans closer over the edge of her worn out window - realizing soon enough that it's about to break apart for the dirty toe-prints on the sill, the wood splintered as though the girl has spent time at the edge, watching the drop below - and sees the exhaustion practically ingrained in her features. Her movements are stiff, her left arm seemingly unable to even grasp the door handle to twist it. The one missing finger is glaringly obvious as she turns the door handle, a stump where her pinky should be. The intruder briefly wonders what other parts of her are missing (and takes a moment to notice the simple black thread sewn zig-zag into the forearm of her own skin when she shakes back her sleeves; a shudder runs through the intruder and he decides wisely he should just leave).

She limps inside, and the intruder takes the chance to leap.

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notes:

Astra has dissociative identity disorder (MPD in case you weren't sure) and at the moment her core personality has been shoved back by a fluffy pink unicorn personality named J. Loptr is the mischievous and dark personality and the currently unnamed personality is suicidal and often has flashbacks of her past, which, if it wasn't clear, consisted of a lot of abuse by her father.

Uh, I make a lot of abused!characters. Sorry. Let me know if she's too much.