InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Coming to theatres soon."

night_and_day (night_and_day) wrote,
@ 2009-11-07 18:37:00

A * M * E * L * I * A


B A S I C S Name: Amelia Sardo Birthday/Age: January 1, 1991/18 Species: Werewolf Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight	A P P E A R A N C E Height: 5'5 Hair Colour: Dark Brown/Black Eye Colour: Brown Posture: Crouched, guarded. Style: Loose, comfortable, covered Noticeable Features: Scars over her arms and legs

P E R S O N A L I T Y Likes: dandelionsjumping in puddlesswingshammockastronomygummy bears Dislikes:* basementscrowdsmirrorssilverstrawberriessprinklers Quirks* sleepwalksallergic to cat/dog hairbeen known to bark at anyone who pesters hertraces her scars to calm herselfvegetarian Amelia has always been quiet, but curious, by nature. She tends to lurk in the background, to try and not draw attention to herself. If someone was to look her way they might think she was an average teenager but little clues give way to something much darker. Amelia slouches, hiding herself off from the world. Even her bangs are cut in a style to act as a physical shield. She wears long scarves and large bangles to hide all of the scars she has accumulated over the years. It isn't that she is anti-social, it is merely a necessity to keep herself and others safe. Amelia observes. She likes to figure out how things work by breaking them apart and then putting them back together again. When dealing with people she watches for little clues, little signs that the rest of the world can't see. She tries to find the hidden secrets. She can often be found staring at a complete stranger and has been known to give very personal advice out of the blue to individuals she hardly knows. It is how she tries to stay connected, to stay human. Her intensity is very intimidating, often making people noticeably uncomfortable. She often gets things confused too. Personal relationships such as friendships and dating isn't something she has experienced and while she has observed it she doesn't understand the feelings behind it. She is uncomfortable in crowds, preferring the solitude of the outdoors. When she does talk to someone she demands their attention and is focused on finding out all the information she can. She can have a sharp tongue at times and be hopelessly innocent at others. She comes off as awkward, her body language closing her off from other people. She knows what darkness and violence is but is sheltered from trickery and deceit. Friendship and love aren't feelings she has encountered, not really. She doesn't understand how or why to be coy or subtle. She knows why to hide to survive but it's not a game to her. This is why she likes the outdoors, it's honest. It's brutal and harsh but there is an order to it. It's something she can relate to. The violence of the beast inside her isn't something she can control. A week leading up to the full moon she has uncontrollable violent episodes and sexual urges. It scares her but there is no stopping it. She can't escape the evil creature her, not even when the sun is out.

H I S T O R Y It all started out normal enough. Amelia was born to two doting parents in a small town outside Raleigh, North Carolina. Her parents were both nature enthusiasts and Amelia grew up in the dirt playing with bugs. She was a happy child, incredibly curious about the world around her. Her father was a jeweler and mother stayed at home. It wasn't a lavish lifestyle but they were a happy family in a quaint little town. Everything changed when Amelia was four years old and her family decided to go to Colorado for a family vacation. Even as a child Amelia loved the stars. She had even met the requirements for a Brownie Girl Scout stargazing badge, even if she was only a Daisy. On the last night of their vacation is was a full moon. Her dad let her stay up late to make s'mores and catch fireflies. She was in heaven. She ran around chasing the little bugs as her parents tended the bonfires. That's when she saw it, peering behind the bushes. A dog. Her four-year-old self loved animals but her parents never let her around them. They said she was allergic but she didn't know what allergic meant. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure her parents weren't looking she began to walk closer. It was a big doggie. When it growled she knew something was wrong. She tried to run away but it was quicker, leaping out of the bushes and latching on to her ankle. She could hear her parents scream as she was tossed like a rag doll. She didn't notice when her father came at the dog with a fiery stick. She didn't hear the gunshot from the campsite beside her. All she felt was the pain, a burning pain that seemed to hum through her. Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong. They didn't know at first. Ever since the attack their daughter had nightmares, mood swings. They blamed it on the trauma. The ripped apart room? The naked disappearing acts? Nothing therapy couldn't solve. Slowly a pattern emerged and as calm and rational as her parents were they knew something was different. The fourth month they installed a nanny-cam, no amount of therapy could fix what they saw. Their daughter was a monster, a freak and they couldn't tell anyone. She was strong, terrifyingly strong but at a young age she was manageable. They went off folk lore and myth to try and help their daughter. They began homeschooling her to avoid any mysterious looks when she would develop bruises on a monthly basis. Amelia knew there was something wrong with her, something evil. Every month her parents would try different tranquilizers, until eventually she grew so strong they had to start locking her in the basement. It was scary down there as she waited for the moon to come up, she became scared of the shadows. She didn't mean to be evil. She prayed and tried to stay good but it never went away. She grew older, her werewolf mood swings colliding with raging hormones and PMS. She grew stronger and more out of control. The first night she escaped she woke up completely naked next to the half eaten carcass of her neighbor's poodle. That is when the lock ins became more extreme. Her parents tried to tie her down with leather straps, with padlocks but nothing worked. When she turned fifteen they moved to silver. It was a living torture, but one she knew she deserved. For hours she would scream as the metal burned into her skin, leaving scars that would never fade. Her wolf form yielded to it for three years. She went about life, covering her scars in shame, buying cheap sweats she wouldn't mind tearing. The week before her change she became sexually charged, as if the beast was taking control for an extra week. She would have a strange boy in a lip lock and feel helpless, unable to control her libido. After her change she was weak from silver exposure, pale and bruised. Her change happened three nights every month but it controlled her entire life. She hated it. She hated not knowing what would happen if she accidentally scratched someone, if she gave someone a hickey. She feared making someone into a monster like her. She kept growing stronger, her beast angrier. It grew weary of the torture, of being locked inside. Her inner beast and her inner heart wanted independence. Her parents grew strained from her screams of pain, of watching their daughter continue to struggle. Her mother's resolve loosened, it was just the opportunity the wolf needed. She loaded her daughter with sleeping pills, not knowing that her wolf form could heal faster. She left off the silver, it was all that was needed to escape. Amelia will never know what happened that night, only the bloody carnage she left behind. She woke naked and sticky, and definitely not in her basement. She pulled herself up to see a man, his gut half exposed and breathing strangled breaths. He was alive. He was healing. She had bit him. Around them were four or five sleeping bags but no other bodies. Amelia couldn't barely breathe, could barely think. She had escaped. She had hurt people. She crawled to the bleeding man, she could hear herself saying I'm sorry over and over again but she could barely realize it was her. She had made a monster. She had become her own nightmare. He begged for death. He knew what he would become. She tried to explain that he would be ok, that he could live like this but he was in pain and bleeding and begging for death. Why would he want to be a monster like her? In her human form she was a weak girl of 18, so she wrapped herself in a sleeping bag, found a hunting knife and stabbed him in the heart, sobbing and telling him how sorry she was. She sat there for hours, waiting for the police, the government, anyone to come and shoot her. To kill her for what she was. No one came. She sat next to a bloody body, wrapped in a stolen sleeping bag and waved flies off of his body and she thought about what to do next. She couldn't go home, she couldn't risk hurting anyone again. She had grown too strong for her parent's basement. After a few hours she grabbed the discarded wallets, including that of her victim. She had to hunt them down, she had to make sure she hadn't bitten or scratched them. What then? Kill them. Stop more beasts like that wolf should have done with her. Help them? She couldn't even help herself. She found them, one by one. Claimed she was a volunteer at the park service. Had they been bitten? Been scratched? The authorities had put out wild dog warnings, they had no clue. She had to get to them before the first full moon. It took three days. She had killed one, three others escaped without harm, one wasn't so lucky. Cameron. She had bit his hand. He was like her now. She knew he would never believe her if she told him he was a werewolf so she came prepared. In a small wooden box she had her father put a silver medallion inside. She told him it was from the park service as a token of their condolences. When he picked it up the metal burned him and she knew, she hadn't killed one person but two. When she got home she cried and then wrote a letter. You were bitten by a werewolf. Metal will burn your skin. Before the full moon you might notice you get more violent, more aggressive. Come the full moon you will shift. You will be unable to control yourself for three nights. There is a safehouse for supernaturals in Charons Ford, they may be the only ones who can help you. Get help. You will be strong too strong to control. I'm sorry. Inside she left four of the five driver's licenses from that day. She kept Scott's. She wanted to look into the eyes of the man she killed. She left a note for her parents and left for the place she read about on Google, praying they could help her. If not, she was going to have to end it herself before she killed anyone else.
original code by butterflybox
		PB: Camilla Belle