jacqueline "jack" fairchild | district seven

я𝑜𝓈𝑒
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anyway don't be a stranger

jacqueline "jack" fairchild | district seven Jun 17, 2015 22:12:19 GMT -5

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Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Jun 17, 2015 22:12:19 GMT -5

name jacqueline "jack" fairchild also known as jack the ripper, the scarlet omen, crimson lumberjack, age eighteen gender female district seven sexual orientation pansexual faceclaim coming soon occupation serial killer <3 biological parents laura and nathan clarke adopted parents uriah and clarissa fairchild brother oliver fairchild [12] sister rhea fairchild [18 at death] adopted brother xander fairchild [16] adopted sister lucy fairchild [14] victims uriah fairchild, caleb whitmore, nathan clarke, laura clarke, amanda moon, diana jolie, and jared noble total kills seven codeword odair words (scroll down for bio) 1452

Last Edit: Jun 25, 2015 16:54:20 GMT -5 by я𝑜𝓈𝑒

"even stars burn out."

я𝑜𝓈𝑒
Mentor

2,890 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her/they/them
last seen Nov 23, 2023 2:34:11 GMT -5

anyway don't be a stranger

jacqueline "jack" fairchild | district seven Jun 17, 2015 22:18:53 GMT -5

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Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Jun 17, 2015 22:18:53 GMT -5

[nospaces]

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[attr=class,tokyopeace]let's shoot some drugs and fall in love, 'cause i feel like getting tangled up in your bones. someone gave you up; you were prosthetic in love, but i will keep you carved inside my gun, until morning comes.

[attr=class,tokyohell]「 jack the ripper 」

[attr=class,tokyotext]i see this godless, broken world through a darker pair of lenses. my eyes view things differently, in a depraved way. my eyes are twisted. and to match them, my brain is as well. (and i do not mind, in fact this has improved my quality of life.)[break][break]

they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. (perhaps there is some truth in this statement.) my eyes are mirrors, not windows, reflecting what is inside. they are cold and hollow like myself. they are a pair of coals wedged into my skull. their blackness is so absolute it appears that my pupils have collided with my irises.[break][break]

the way i look is foreboding, ominous, almost. i am so poised and glacial, my stance rigid with every breath, my stride graceful as a prowling panther with each step. my face remains menacing even when i am sleeping. the sharp bone structure of my face and the height of my cheekbones and my fair skin gives me a more shocking appearance, to add to the drama of my dark eyes.[break][break]

(i look like a ghost looking for its vengeance it never got in its life.)[break][break]

hair the color of an angel’s halo falls like threads of silk down just under an inch above my chest. (but i am far from an angel.) my adoptive mother (clarissa) always said i had angel hair, to match my angel heart, and i laugh bitterly at her words now. despite her words, i believe she saw right through me, for exactly what i was. i do not know when she came to the realization that i was an anomaly, that there was a sinister darkness creeping over my heart. (was it when i ripped her husband apart?)[break][break]

the darkness planted its seed in my early youth, as soon as my biological parents began to twist my mind. the innocent minds of children were just malleable clay to them. they used emotions and words as daggers and fire, and would laugh at my scars and bruises. i was the weakest, the one who had trembling twig legs and a quivering lip. i was the one with a target on my back.[break][break]

i was a toy that they soon became bored of after i stopped crying. my parents threw my two siblings and i out in a ditch to starve until we turned to bones.[break][break]

i remember how my brother, oliver, cried harder than the downpour flooding the streets. i remember holding his tiny body in my arms, only fourteen years old and feeling responsible for my eight-year-old brother. but my sister, rhea, shed no tears. she just stared up at the swirling, wrathful charcoal skies. she parted her cracked, bruised lips and sang oliver a lullaby until he fell asleep, the same one she sang to us during our parents’ bouts of fighting during the night. her voice was a soft peel of bells against the harsh pitter patter of rain.[break][break]

bluebird, stay with me[break]
bluebird, you won’t die alone[break]
i’ll stay with you until you go[break]
no, i’ll never, ever leave you alone[break][break]

as she sang, the hum of a guitar playing along echoed through my head, remembering how she would sing the lullaby while she played the guitar to lull us into peaceful slumber, blocking out the smashing of beer bottles and yelling in the background.[break][break]

your heart still beats to the steady screams[break]
it’s a strong drum, but it’ll give way[break]
the candlelight’s still warm but for how much longer?[break]
hold the lantern high to light the end of the road[break][break]

i know you have to leave but please don’t scream[break]
just slip away into oblivion with me[break]
shut the door and don’t look back[break]
take my hand and walk with me[break]
into the dark, into the great beyond[break][break]

bluebird, stay with me[break]
bluebird, you won’t die alone[break]
i’ll stay with you until you go[break]
no, i’ll never ever leave you alone[break][break]

your fragile wings are broken now[break]
just shattered glass on the floor[break]
they’ll never sweep it up, bluebird[break]
they’ll never be sorry, bluebird[break]
but they’ll never be free, bluebird,[break]
not like you and me[break][break]

bluebird, stay with me[break]
bluebird, you won’t die alone[break]
i’ll stay with you until you go[break]
no, i’ll never ever[break][break]

l e a v e[break][break]

y o u[break][break]

a l o n e[break][break]

we did not perish in that ditch like i thought, like rhea thought. our saviors came and carried us into their home, clarissa and uriah fairchild. they washed the filth and dried crimson off of our skin. they took us in when our family disposed of us like we were worthless trash--and maybe we are, or at least i am. perhaps they saw something in us, the flicker of a light, the possibility of redemption. (there is none in me.)[break][break]

if there was ever a light still left glowing in us, uriah snuffed it out. he was better than our father before, but he was a storm of violence and anger when he drank, and he drank entire seas of alcohol. it was clarissa and rhea he would take his anger out on the most. i would tell oliver that we were playing hide and seek--his favorite game--and he would find a hiding spot just as the hurricane began. he must know now, what was truly going on.[break][break]

i wanted to stop uriah, but clarissa told me not to. so i was forced to hide in the closet with my two adoptive siblings (lucy and xander), and watch through the crack in the door, watch like a coward when i was capable of helping them. i could have . . . i could have taken uriah’s axe and hacked him apart like a ragdoll. (i promised myself i would someday.)[break][break]

a year blew past us, and the storms grew more violent and perilous. with his strong hands he snapped rhea’s fragile neck like a twig. and i watched. i watched the light suddenly vanish from her blue eyes, i watched as she crumpled to the ground like a little paper doll.[break][break]

something came over me at that dark moment. i am not capable of stringing together the words to express my emotions. i was no longer a victim of the hurricane. i became the hurricane, i became the lightning and thunder and rain and deadly wind. i became the storm and i allowed it to consume me. i allowed the inky clouds to surround me until i was gone, turned into a swirling void of blazing rage and despair. my eyes leaked oceans, my body quaked for the first time with not fear but absolute fury, my mouth set free bone chilling screams.[break][break]

i remember grabbing uriah’s axe and--[break][break]

and everything became a blur of[break][break]

red.[break][break]

clarissa had run into the closet and folded her bruised body in a fetal position. she did not so much as glance through the crack in the door. (the screaming was enough for her.)[break][break]

she always told me to stitch up the wounds i had made.[break][break]

so i sewed his mangled body back together.[break][break]

i positioned him, whole again, on the sofa. my own twisted version of a doll.[break][break]

(but he was only the first.)[break][break]

there were many dark souls that needed to be put away. and put them away i did, out like a light. all of my victims are clear in my mind, their names etched into my soul like scars.[break][break]

the drunken father who beat his wife and children. (uriah fairchild.) the school teacher who fancied little boys, and had set his sights on oliver. (caleb whitmore.) the parents who beat and then abandoned their own children in a ditch. (laura and nathan clarke.) the girl who tortured animals for fun. (amanda moon.) the mother who drowned her own children. (diana jolie.) the man who sold children into prostitution. (jared noble.)[break][break]

each and every one of them, i hacked apart into several pieces with my axe. (the head is always last, decapitation being the final blow.) i sing them all to sleep, a lethal lullaby. the song begins with the first slice to their flesh--bluebird, stay with me--and ends when they meet death at last--no, i’ll never leave you alone. and when they do meet death, they slip into his arms willingly. i make their last moments hell, to give them a taste of where they are going. (although religion is a concept almost alien to me, i like to imagine that there is a prison after death for those who have the blackest of hearts.)[break][break]

and then i sew them back together.[break][break]

like they are worthless dolls, i position them in the living room, perhaps lounging in their chair, or sitting on the couch, as if nothing happened. as if i never happened.[break][break]

they are nothing to me, less than human. they are monsters. and i have no remorse for killing a monster, a parasite who feeds off of the happiness of others.[break][break]

(does that make me a monster, too?)[break][break]

(i can live with that.)[break][break]

°r

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Last Edit: Jun 22, 2015 0:45:14 GMT -5 by я𝑜𝓈𝑒

"even stars burn out."

я𝑜𝓈𝑒 Mentor 2,890 POSTS Pronouns: she/her/they/them last seen Nov 23, 2023 2:34:11 GMT -5 anyway don't be a stranger	jacqueline "jack" fairchild \| district seven Jun 18, 2015 0:34:27 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Jun 18, 2015 0:34:27 GMT -5 Finished with my little terrifying, twisted darling. <3 Serial killers are cute huh
	"even stars burn out."

✨ Advertiser 8,136 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 19, 2024 17:24:18 GMT -5 bloomtodeath	jacqueline "jack" fairchild \| district seven Jun 21, 2015 22:55:31 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ✨ on Jun 21, 2015 22:55:31 GMT -5 LOVELY accepted!
	“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”