SILVER, tristan heidi

[tristan valencia silver]

VALKYRIECALIFORNIA

[/b][/color][/size]



TRISTAN HEIDI SILVER
________________________________________________________________________

INTO THE NIGHT
DESPERATE AND BROKEN
THE BASIC INFORMATION[/center][/font]

SO, TELL ME. WHAT'S YOUR FULL NAME?

[/b]

"my parent’s named me tristan heidi silver. it says so, right on my birth certificate. i don’t appreciate my name. it’s for a boy. don’t call me trist, either. i abhor such a lazy alternate to my name"

AND HOW OLD ARE YOU?

"my sad excuse for a mother had me via caesarean section on february 2nd, 1990. do the math. i’m twenty-one years old, twenty-two in a couple of weeks."

WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING?

"does the surname ’silver mean nothing in this town? it means i’ll never have to make a living for myself. if you think people older than i did anything else, you’ll be mistaken. until i decide i want to do something with my time, i’m living off the pretty little thing called a trust fund. it was supposed to be for university. i use it for my own use, like not university."

YOU SEEING ANYONE, OR ARE YOU SINGLE?

"have i stolen your boyfriend yet?

i’m seeing someone. a lot of someones. just with no dates and flowers and crying. even i know that everyone knows that."

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

THE SOUND OF A FIGHT
FATHER HAS SPOKEN
THE PERSONALITY

IF YOU COULD DESCRIBE YOURSELF IN SEVEN WORDS WHAT WOULD THEY BE?

[/b]

"me? you know there would be far more accurate descriptions coming from a non-biased opinion? your funeral.

i like to call myself strong-willed. i know what i want, and i tend to always get it. and when i get it, i like to practice that victory. it’s never too late to remind yourself that you won. to this day, i will tell myself i won, i got exactly what i wanted. remember that little thing? i was fouteen. i promised myself that i would humiliate them, all of them. i got exactly what i wanted - i humliated them, and the people who tried to be them, because i was bored. i’m nostalgic. i remember things, every detail, and just happen to like to remind people of that. consider it a service.

::strong-willed/vindictive/nostalgic/animus::

it’s all because of my golden nostalgia that i can compliment myself. it gave my such confidence. doing one thing permitted me to become explorative. i like to explore my options, regardless of the concequences i choose to ignore. look at it this way; i like your boyfriend. it’s in my options, so i choose to explore it. i have a strong will, so i get what i want. it’s your fault you weren’t pretty enough for him.

::explorative/slut/free/homewrecker::

go along the grapevine, will you? if i want something, i’ll go get it. simple. i hope you know that the process of obtaining something particularly difficult requires skill, control. i’m always in control. step back from the situation, assess who you’re going to be hurting, ignore that, and go in and get it. it is not especially challenging. i suppose you could counter my method is rather aggressive. i won’t disagree. i am aggressive, because i know what i want. and i do everything in my power to remind you of such. or just call me a bitch.

::controlling/bitch/aggressive/bitch::

sometimes that little “truth” right up there cannot argue with me. i don’t always want something that ruins another person. only when they’ve ruined me first. i’m not blair waldorf, who enjoys effortlessly ridding people of their precious lives. i know that i am somewhat reasonable. even i know when to draw the line. thanks for judging. don’t get in my way and i can be a perfectly plesant young lady (the dimples help with that one). don’t even say it. i can hold a grudge until paris hilton stops being disgusting.

::strong-willed/nostalgic/explorative/in control/aggressive/reasonable/grudge::

::vindictive/bitch/animus/bitch/slut/bitch/homewrecker/bitch/controlling/bitch/bitch::"

WHAT KIND OF THINGS DO YOU LIKE?

"well, i like a lot of things. most of which are inappropriate. a lot like -

hot and sweaty sex, spotlights, the dark, silent movies, the good vodka, partying on the beach, crossing the line, not eating, getting what i want, danger, kinky kinky, dark make-up, breaking glass, cheating, being “the other girl”, blogging, humiliating people, zippers, sports cars, smokey shak parties, making people cry, cigarettes, counting calories, wearing heels, the color silver, being the outsider, showing skin, my own legend"

WHAT KIND OF THINGS DON'T YOU LIKE?

"i like a lot less things than i like. surprised?

preppy blonde whoevers, all things boring, “sweethearts”, cotton candy, people who eat too much, pastels, good girls, pop music, hot weather, heavy sweaters, those nasty whores who have five kids by twenty, desperation, the truth, my fucked parents, dry spells (from you know what, cupcake), pet names, pink shoes, little cardigans, smiling, snobby plastic valk wives and their offspring - much like my mother without the offspring, prudish waifs"

WHAT WOULD YOU SAY WERE YOUR STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES?

"didn’t my fantastic description of myself get this across? i suppose you could say i’m resilient. i can rise from the fucking ashes and float off into the sky. i take whatever flying shit the fans flies my way and deal with it, then and there. i learned the first time not to let it wallow for a year before showing the rest just how well i had moved on. even after that, my entire existance was unnatural. silver spoons, diamond rings, jimmy choos - that life offers little room for character growth. it teaches to know what you want, to do whatever the fuck it takes to get it. i learned that better than anyone. but, you know what? screw up and your inner circle will turn on you. all it takes is to wear the wrong expression. that apparent blood-is-thicker-than-water loyalty can only reach do far. i taught myself the act of loyalty, what the real meaning is behind the word. i don’t like to turn my back on my real friends.

so my own blood-is-thicker-than-water loyalty reaches about three people. so? it’s still there. why dwell on the negative, when the positive is standing there glowing? it’s not nice to make someone list off their flaws, especially me. because someone else will have a much more colorful list. the last day of senior year, i think, was the most colorful. “evil vindictive slut.” “move the fuck on.” “i hope you burn off the map.” “i gave him herpes before you decided he was yours.” those were all things written on my yearbook. how charitable, to constantly give awareness. see, the thing that comes with moving to the outside of the bubble is never appealing. of course i had to become an - and i quote - evil bitch.” very creative, thank you. it begins as a defence mechanism, which soon turns to just having fun. the combination of a silver, oh hey like me, and a silver who has been scorned is not, to sound clinical, appealing. my weakness? i call it overcompensation. when i have been done wrong, i exercise my right for retailiation. then, well, i tend to continue. i began to steal their boyfriends because they ruined my life. but after awhile, i did it because i wanted to. i don’t satisfy my thirst and move on, growing and maturing from the experience. i add it to myself and let it grow, like a poisonous weed"

DO YOU HAVE ANY SECRETS?

"i kept the biggest secret. i was scandal star - the town’s most legendary blogger. i managed to stay anonymous. i humiliated the people who used to be my friends in the worst possible way. what is more nerve-racking knowing that someone knows your dirty little secrets? knows where and when you’re lunching? it was a brilliant bit of revenge. the sick satisfaction i got from it is the dirtiest secret of all. even three years later, nothing made me happier than seeing these a-list angels crash and burn. the fact they listened to everything i posted takes a close second, i believe.

i’m afraid. but then, who isn’t? i grew up one thing, but decided to become something entirely different. if i had followed the plan, i would be spoiled and sickly sweet, with a forever-boyfriend and attending yale or harvard or wherever else you go to sell your soul. i would have friends and family and wear cardigans and be happyhappyhappy. when you flip that the bird, you don’t know what else to do. i don’t know what i’m going to do. it terrifies me i’m going to become just another girl who never left city borders. and not even in the sick valk way. "

WHAT ARE YOU MOST SCARED OF?

"i’m scared of small spaces, actually. they’ve terrified me since i was a wee little pain in the ass.

what am i most scared of? i’m most scared of life, what it can do to people. my entire life has been rise up and tell the rest to fuck it. how can i do that forever? i don’t need friends and family and perfection like most everyone else. i don’t need any of that. but that generally gives someone success in life. i’m stuck here, in the same dusty town. i don’t want life to finally catch up and strip me clean, peel back the skin and let the blood pour out. i don’t want to be vulnerable again."

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

WE WERE THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF PROMISE
WE WERE THE VICTIMS OF OURSELVES
THE HISTORY

TELL ME A LITTLE OF WHAT YOUR FAMILY IS LIKE?

[/b]

"who do you think i am? the name “silver” means nothing to you? must be new to valkyrie. and as aware as unsliced bread. i come from one of the elite families, with old money and even older roots. my father came from new york royalty, and made himself valkyrie royalty. he’s the lawyer with the fat watch, fat wallet and even fatter head. my darling mother is younger, blonder, and shiny plastic. he cheats the most. she’s the most plastic. my family is the one of extremists - largest houses, most expensive cars, and worst at keeping their secrets. my mommy throws just the most darling charity events. daddy dearest hires his mistresses as staff once he fires them because lovely mother found out he cheated with his secratary. again. they are nothing special, definitely nothing out of the ordinary. they just happen to be better at being the worst than most other families here in valkyrie. most money, most infedelity, most plastic surgery. best parties, best smiles, best emptiness. imagine what i would have grown up to be."

WHO ARE YOUR PARENTS?

"darren silver, my poor excuse for a father. he’s turning fifty-seven (or is it eight?) this year. he is the partner in some law firm that i don’t bother paying attention to. it’s in los angeles, so he spends half his life there. he pretends to be concerned about me, but he stopped caring a long time ago. i don’t talk to him anymore.

sarah silver, my even poorer excuse for a mother. she’s the one i had to be careful with. she’s forty-nine going on sixteen. the last time she worked, she was a zygote. she spends my father’s hard earned money for a living. twice-weekly mani-pedis; fried blonde extensions; designer clothes she thinks she looks good in. she pretends to love my father, even busts him for cheating sometimes. she sleeps with the staff all the time ( the pool boy can’t honesty clean for shit ). she pretended to care a lot longer than my father did. even tries to call me sometimes. i think she still thinks that little sweetheart is in there sometimes - but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s scared of me now. i rarely give her the time of day."

DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS?

"my parents always pretended i was an only child. but i have a sister, her name is remy. she’s twenty-four now, but my darling father kicked her out when she was sixteen. i see her around sometimes. but she hasn’t spoken to anyone in the family since."

ANY OTHER RELATIVES CLOSE TO YOU?

"i have extended family, probably. i just haven’t seen them since i was twelve. we used to go to australia every summer and winter break, to see the whole family. i haven’t been in ten years. daddy always said his family in new york wasn’t worth his time anymore. to this day, they hate him for giving up and marrying my mother."

TELL ME THE STORY OF YOUR PAST?

"Darren and Sarah Silver were originally from different worlds. He had grown up in posh Manhattan, surrounded by cocktail parties and pretty girls in short dresses. He never had to worry about his trust fund, and the shiny sports car he got for every birthday wasn’t a second thought. His parents were some of New York’s elite. Highly successful realtors had broken the ten million mark years before he was born. Needless to say, he was raised the exact same way he raised his own children. Everything was the best, and there was no reason to settle for anything less than that.

Sarah, on the other hand, had lived in New York State for her entire life. Born to a lower middle-class family living on the edge of the Bronx, it was fairly obvious she was going down the same road as her parents – honest, hard working people caught up in dead-end jobs. There was no trust fund and definitely no sports car for her sixteenth birthday. The only parties she attended were wild house parties thrown by classmates who had parents out of town; none of the girls were pretty either, they were tramps dressed up in cheap mesh miniskirts. While the former hard working female loved her family more than anything, the small glances she got of the city were enough to make her forget all of that.

By the time she turned eighteen, everything had began to change. How, I can’t really tell you. And she doesn’t really feel the need to let you know who she had to screw to even get an interview at the prestigious university in downtown New York. She just did. At the same time, Darren Silver, a bustling law student of twenty seven, had no problem getting accepted into the expensive school. You see, his parents had taught him to live a little, and then get on with his life. As a result, the rich bastard had spent half of his twenties touring around the world on their credit card – didn’t make mommy and daddy too happy. Off to school with you, young man! Whatever the reason, both naughty little children were carted off to the university. Happily ever after, thanks. What the blonde skank was doing in an English Literature lecture hall, I’ll never really know – chick is dumber than a post, for god sakes. But, she had been right; she was different from all of those other poor, helpless little girls. She caught the eye of a rich, powerful man. Now, I know it’s never supposed to happen like that. The rich marry the rich, and the poor marry the poor. Then they all have rebellious little babies who want into another life.

Blah blah blah.
You really think anyone cares about how they met?

Well, they did. Happy ending. Go away.

By the time Darren graduated law school with flying colors, and already had a cushy job, he was in a serious relationship with the much younger woman. His parents hated it, hers were oh so proud. He loved her, she loved him. What’s the big deal? The big deal is the little thing conceived on the night of their wedding, that’s what.

Most couples wait, at least, a few years before having children, don’t they? Some don’t even consider the thought. Others are in serious relationships and a few too many beers lands a child growing inside of Susan – they get married. A couple of teenagers get knocked up and decide to tie the knot as well; might as well kill two birds with one useless stone. You see, people either want to have children and do it right, or they royally fuck up and end up with a pregnant misses. Normal people do. But, as we all know by now, that the beautiful and wealthy have nothing to do with them normal folk. They party from the age of fifteen until they get shoved into rehab at twenty-two. They wear designers and go to award shows, not read them in magazines and watch them on television. There are no curfews, unlimited credit card limits and abortions ten percent off. So, tell me, why didn’t Sarah Silver choose that wonderful deal? I hear you get a new plasma screen television if you get two in one year! She was twenty-five years of age when she gave birth to her first child, so what’s the big deal. Plenty of people are ready for children at that age. But, she wasn’t plenty of people. She was a former trashy skank who happened to catch the wandering eye of some internationally acclaim criminal defence lawyer – or something like that. Now all of that was fine, why wouldn’t it be? Even when she gave birth to Tristan at age twenty-seven, it was fine. They were a happy family with everything to lose.

Unlike many of her fellow classmates, Tristan Silver had what you could call a normal childhood.

Learning to ride a bike, school plays, community soccer leagues – the works. Her father worked too many hours, sure, but what did that matter? He was fully devoted to his pretty little wife and his two, picture perfect children. Her mother was every man’s fantasy Susie homemaker. Her brother liked to get in trouble. She liked to help around the house. It was perfect. Boring. Gag worthy. Brady Brunch inducing sickness. That’s what it fucking was. But hey, we all dream about that world, don’t we? The American dream with fancier cars and bigger houses? Sure, you could easily love it in that silly dream world you locate to until math class is over, but that’s where the fun stops. Darren and Sarah Silver were a happy couple; all white smiles and Church going Sundays. Picture fucking perfect. Fourteen years of being the perfect little girl was horrendous. But, at the time, who really cared? Tristan’s classmates would mock her for being “perfect”, sure, but the stupid girl couldn’t get her head out of the clouds. She simply didn’t care. She loved life and, most of all, she loved her own life. She didn’t have to put up with five nannies a week, a cheating father, or a plastic Barbie doll mother. In her blue little eyes, her life was the perfect one. Everyone else was simply mistaken.

Entering high school is some sort of weird fantasy little girl’s everywhere dream about until they are fourteen or fifteen years of age. Can someone please tell me what the fuck is up with that? Maybe it’s because of those cheesy teen dramas and those hilariously pathetic dramaedies about life as a sixteen year old girl in high school. The media puts some fake image of utter perfection into their impressionable little minds and it stays there until each and every little girl discovers high school is one thing and one thing only: god damn torture. Technically that could be counted as three things, but who’s counting? Whoever is, fire them. But, on your first day as a freshman, those dreams aren’t tarnished quite yet. You think you’ll go into freshman year and become what every girl wants to be: pretty, smiling, popular. Popular, above all else. Who wants to be hated? Well, I can tell you one thing, Tristan Silver had grown up in a boring, fairy tale sort of way – everything was so damn perfect. Oh, sorry. So darn perfect. She had been taught to stay nice and respectful. While her brother was a bit of a realist, she had never been given such luxury. In fact, she had started her freshman year of high school at Valkyrie Academy with many of the people she had grown up with. She had wandered into that intimidatingly posh building, wide-eyed and curious as she watched her fellow students. She was going to be just like those older girls, popular and fresh-faced and smiling. Just wait.

As the Silver family was blessed with good looks and enviable physiques, it really was no wonder that the girl was beginning to get exactly what she wanted. She was friendly and sweet to all the right people, and that tends to get you noticed. Maybe not in the way you want to be, but it worked. She was just another freshman, just another pretty little spineless girl. In time, she could be the queen bee, right? All year, in fact, she worked towards it. Like today’s Jessie Austin and little Erica Solstice, she was a slave to the A-listers. A cheap hook-up, a coffee run, an object to insult and make fun of. It’s just how it works. And, eventually, she would be accepted as one of them. It’s how it worked in the movies, and it’s how it worked at Valkyrie. Once she became a tainted sophomore, there would be a new army of freshman to be falsely sweet to. She might not be able to command those cute little faces around yet, but it would come with time. Just wait.

As the end of Tristan’s freshman year finally came to an end, her life was, in detailed terms, perfect. No alcohol runs lately. No insults directed at her all semester. Could that torment finally have come to an end?! OMG. Seriously?! Was she going to become the next…all of the future legends were in her own grade. Was she going to be one of them? Seriously? NO FUCKING WAY. You’re right, no fucking way. IT happened before she could get all of that. IT cracked and broke everything she had worked so hard for. IT is the reason everything became like this.

At the beginning, she had been like any other cute little freshman girl. With all of these ridiculous thoughts that high school would be different. She would be popular, independent and happy. A wide-eyed dream quickly shattered once she becomes a shattered sophomore. At the beginning, she thought everything would be fine. Why wouldn’t it be? It was just a party. The annual end-of-the-year bash thrown every year at a deserted farm a few miles outside of Valkyrie. At the beginning, everything was fine. It was your typical high school party ( the ones you read about, not the ones you’re invited to ) : her new connections got her into an end-of-school party, a cheerleader party with beer and seniors and music. It was just a farm a few miles from where she was supposed to be – a Chelsea’s slumber party. She blackmailed her brother into driving them. Her mother thought he was taking them roller skating. The unlimited flow of beer was stationed in the barn, with the lights and speaker. Most people hung at the edge of the lights. They looked like models in a blue-jeans ad, thinthinthin, big lips, big earrings, white smiles. She felt like such a little kid.

How about I save you the details? Because, like always, nothing really happened. It happened. The party. Whatever you want to call it, it happened.

It happened, and it was big. It was dirty. It was nasty. And, worst of all, it involved much of the A-list. It was a cheerleader party, and they need to suck up to the more popular girls anyways. But the police were never supposed to be called. The party was out of the community, and no one was ever supposed to find out. Sure, things happened. Bad things. But there was no reason to call for the authorities. No one was supposed to get hurt. And, most of all, no one was supposed to get caught. Especially for some pathetic little freshman to do it. What the fuck. Sadly for our little hero, it was a full two weeks before school ended. Plenty of time for the rumours to get round. It was soon common knowledge that little Tristan Silver had basically turned against everything Valkyrie had offered her. All she had ever wanted for so long. Just after it paid off, too. Damnit. What would you o if someone almost ruined your life? You’d get revenge. You’d exile her from becoming someone at Valkyrie. You’d bully her. You’d pick her out from the crowd. Even if you weren’t at that party, you’d hate her. Just for what she did to your friends, to your world.

The first two weeks were the worst. Everyone knew what the sad little girl with a funny accent did. Everyone knew that she shouldn’t have done it. Her brother was arrested at that party. His sister was raped at that party. They got drunk at that party. All of them got charged for whatever at the party. Hiding out for two months might heal the wounds, but come September? They’ll rip right open again. That’s what happened for Tristan Silver. She was unknown for two solid months, never seen once. The first day of her grade ten year, nothing changed. She got the same dark looks from the older girls and the same sour glares from her fellow sophomores. Her clothes were looser, and she wore no make-up. What was the point, right? For the next ten months, it wasn’t any different from before. Only this time, it was longer. Nearly a year, the poor girl took whatever those girls had to offer. The hazing, the humiliations, the insults, the rumours, whatever. She made friends with people like Nancy from Canada and Ted from Texas. They didn’t know what happened, and they probably didn’t care. Or they heard, and they felt sorry for her. I’d feel sorry for her.

Come junior year? Things have to change.
Oh, they did.

Everything changed. Tristan Heidi Silver arrived at school looking the same as she had when she was fourteen. Designer clothes, spike heels and shiny hair. Only now, her uniform looked different. She rolled the waistband of her skirt up the extra few inches, just so it was shorter than everyone else’s. She undid the top two buttons of her shirt, like always. But left only two or three in the center done up. Everything else was hanging out all over the place. She went to those same parties, those new people invited her, and kissed all the boys. She went and drank more than anyone else. She cut class and shot more heroine than the stoners. She had no problem standing up to those who had tormented her in the past. Just with a new edge. Not like brave little victim suddenly standing up to Stanley the Bully. Hell no. Everything that had happened changed her, IT happened, IT tormented her, IT transformed her. Tristan Silver used to be a sweet girl. Hell, she still was sometimes ( and those parents just love her ). But things were going to change this year. Just wait.

At the beginning, Tristan had been a sweet girl. She really had been. A little spineless, maybe, but that’s to be expected. At the end, she was a completely different person. Reckless, nasty, slutty. Whatever you want to call it, that’s what she was. For awhile, what did it really matter, you know? What happened, happened. While people certainly weren’t going to let her forget for a long, long, long time, there’s no real use dwelling on it anymore. If there’s one thing that life in Valkyrie, California had taught her, it’s how to get revenge. No self-respecting girl goes into her teenage years without detailed knowledge about how and when to destroy someone else. But, when the whole community is out to get you, that’s slim pickings there, that is. So, let’s take it up a notch. Sarah Silver had always been good at that. She’d done it when she was in high school, and always taught her only daughter to go big, or go home.

So let’s go big.
Website big.
National big.
Maximum humiliation big.

Scandal Star big.

It was a small gossip blog to begin with, it really was. Tristan had never felt the need to give out trashy advertisements for her ingenious way of getting her own version of revenge. This way, no one could kick her anymore. Just a small blog on a sub-server of a much larger, unknown site. Insanejournal or something. Not quite like LiveJournal. But, eventually, people put two and two together. They realized those embarrassing photographs were, indeed, their favourite A-listers. What they do during their everyday lives, only to be caught by a shady shutterbug hiding in the bushes, while they secretly cry out for help. Humiliating poses, humorous expressions, things that could only cause problems. Like Valkyrie’s version of Perez Hilton, only ten times worse. This gossip blogger was out for revenge. The gloves were off this time.

Eventually, people caught on. Once she set up her own website, she was free to do what she wanted. People started taking their own photographs, and sending them in anonymously via e-mail. Forums were set up on the website, were the A-listers themselves began to argue over what happened. That was photoshopped! I was having an off day! It was a joke! Hah, right, Valkyrie. Keep telling yourselves that. Six months into the year, and Tristan Silver is finally getting her own edited version of sick, twisted revenge. Ruining their lives, just like they ruined hers. She’ll be a good girl and post herself once in awhile, but always with no strings attached. Her reputation is in the dirt anyways, no one wants to be her friend. No one popular, anyways. Maybe a few outsiders, but that’s it. Who cares about a former sweetheart who ruined Valkyrie alumni’s lives? Her own grade certainly doesn’t. So, let’s blog it.

Give me something to talk about,
xoxo, Scandal Star.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You know? IT happened. IT changed her forever. She took on her revenge and created a new persona for herself. She just built on that, to become one of Valkyrie’s most legendary. Well, until the end of high school. See, that only works when you’re still working your way through the educational torture device called high school. IT happened. IT changed her forever. But she couldn’t dwell on IT forever; everyone has to move on.

The summer after graduation, the Scandal Star blog ceased to exist. Just one keystroke, and it was erased forever. She had done what she originally set out to do - humliate her old friends the same way they had humiliated her for so long. The power had been there. Even these A-listers checked her site every few hours, either to check up on someone or themselves. The entire town of Valkyrie had been at her mercy, hanging on to every word posted. They were self-conscious, afraid of who might be taking these candid shots. That’s why she’d done it - to make them paranoid, that they were always being watched. Documenting the daily life of them had been the boring part. Seeing the angry humiliation everytime she updated was the fun part. But now it was grown-up time. They would humiliate themselves without her help.

I mean, she had. She’d had big plans in high school - a perfect life all planned out. But people change, circumstances change. The day she bit down on her family, used the venom from her fangs to scare the people who pretended to love her, changed all of those plans. For the year and a half she lived at home after graduation, her mother was scared of her. Without Scandal Star, the legendary Silver girl was without a poisonous outlet. She took it out on her family, the people she pretended to call her friends. But I guess slamming a waiter’s tray full of expensive seafood at some charity event held at your house (again), and then screaming at the gracious hostess in front of everyone who matters kind of kills the “she’s just moody” excuse. She’d just turned nineteen -and nineteen years of watching daddy cheating, mommy pretending, and daughter cheating and pretended was enough.

Tristan Silver is a girl who needs outlets. All of the anger builds up, and where does it go? Yelling at mommy and scaring her grows old after awhile. Not keeping daddy’s affairs a secret grows boring. Her family was so fucking cookie-cutter, it was too much. I guess that’s why she demanded her trust fund, and escaped. Just like Remy had, Tristan eventually needed out of her family. She’d never loved them anyway, just as they had never loved her. They were all too busy their perfect image and dirty secrets to bother paying attention. You can only pretend to be the perfect family for so long. Her childhood, the entirety of it, had been spent pretending that her parents loved each other and she loved her parents. People aren’t good at pretending forever. The cracks deepend and the water eventually starts dripping through, in one ugly leak of betrayal and lies.

She pulled away. Completely. Moved out, selecting a lovely downtown-based apartment. Changed her cell number. Didn’t answer the phone. Occasionally struck a pose at a Valk event, but that’s when she felt the need. The number of occasions steadily declined over the years, down to maybe three a year by twenty-two. She pulled away clear across town, down to the beach and the dirty dive bars.

Now, at nearly twenty-two, Tristan’s become a fixture in the Shaks. Ironic and disgusting, I know. Many of the people are still repulsive, and she won’t go near a dented old Pontiac. But they don’t care, they don’t judge. If you can party-hardy, then you’re in. Broken down homes with cheap beer and pot smoke and a lot of shamelessly horizontal bodies - that’s a party now. Not going to Los Angeles and making out with married investment bankers; not buying the latest Versace and burning it later than night because your mother will wonder what happened to it. Like she’d let her designer frocks anywhere near these rough crowds. She followed them in suit: didn’t go to college, doesn’t bother with a job, just parties and hangovers and the occasional Starbucks run. She’s taken up stealing boyfriends and cheating with those she casually dates to feel something, anything. Once a petty slut, now a full blown homewrecking whore. And you know? She doesn’t care, not a little bit. Making girls cry and boys feel ashamed is as close to satisfaction as she’ll allow herself to get. Moving on with her life means vulnerability, and that didn’t work out all those times before.

She doesn’t want to feel, not really. Doesn’t want to get caught up in the superficiality of her family; doesn’t want any of that. Better be real then living some sort of lie."

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

MAYBE THE CHILDREN OF A LESSER GOD
BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL
THE EARTHQUAKE

SO, YOU KNOW THE EARTHQUAKE THAT OCCURRED ON JANUARY 7TH, 2012?

[/b]

"of course i knew about it. i was in it. i watched it all happen, what it did to the city. never before have i seen something that destructive."

WHERE WERE YOU THE DAY OF THE EARTHQUAKE? WHAT DID YOU DO?

"to be honest? i don’t remember where i was. it was in the middle of the afternoon. and i am rarely sober in the middle of the afternoon. i was at someone’s ramshackle of a house, right down by the beach. a lot of people were there, i remember. when the quake started, i also remember that it took ten minutes for people to realize what the fuck was going on. the air was thick with smoke - probably from that nasty-ass pot they were smoking - and the place was a broken mess with begin with. i think i was on the porch, because i woke up on the sand. some guy told me he saw the beam fall onto my arm, and he pulled me as far from the wreckage as he could. which was about ten feet. he’s still in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. i went to the hospital, found out i broke my arm and they kicked me out a few hours later."

DID YOU KNOW ANYONE THAT WAS AFFECTED BY THE EARTHQUAKE?

"of course. i just don’t care about any of them, like they don’t care about me. broken bones, and maybe a concussion. no one suffered."

WELL, THANKS FOR TAKING THE TIME TO TALK TO ME. HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE REST OF YOUR DAY.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

WE STOLE OUR NEW LIVES
THROUGH BLOOD AND PAIN
THE ROLEPLAYER

NAME asia the goalie who scored a goal.
AGE nineteen years dead.
RP EXPERIENCE the beginning of time.
FACE CLAIM miranda fucking kerr.<3
MEMBER GROUP citizen.
RP SAMPLE seriously?

credit format by lainey, lyrics by 30 seconds to mars

[/size][/center]

[asia ?!]