Hello, my name is: Olivia Rosalie Castor
But you call call me: Liv or Livvy.
My role in this story is: Other Four.
I'm only: Twenty-One.
I was born in: Nashville, Tennessee.
And on the: 9th of January.
If you can't get it from my picture, I'm: I hate how I look - it's why I got so much attention when she was out on her own. It's why I was picked up off the streets by Gabe, wasn't it? Really? And I'm only short, 5'3. I have long, blonde locks, that very between almost a darker blonde and white depending on which light I'm standing in. The waves come down to just under breast level, and I have to keep brushing it through the day for it to stop getting tangled. However, it's kind of a stress reliever for me, so I doesn't really mind. My eyes were once a beautiful cerulean blue, but due to all that I've been though, it's like all the life has been sucked out of them viscously, my orbs now being a very dull and pale brown, almost border-lining on a grey. My eye lashes aren't extremely long, but with a little lick of mascara, they look like the ones that belong on a beautiful baby boy, long, thick and dark. I have very pale skin, which kinda' looks like porcelain. It's also very sensitive, and unfortunately, I bruise easily - which doesn't go well when you get abused like I did, and have pale skin. Inside, I don't feel pretty. Inside, I'm covered in scars. When it comes to clothing, I just likes to wear things that are comfortable, handmade skirts are a favourite, along with tights sometimes, and just a plain or random tee. Hats also a love of mine, but I also like to put my hair up in a ribbon that use to be mum's.
People say that I'm: I am a highly tense, and timid person, always wary about the people around am, and about the things that are happening around me. I'm someone that lets the things that have happened in the past control my life, meaning that I now find it hard to trust anyone, strangers, or people that I knows. I've already been through so much pain in my short life, of course, it affects life right now. Most people scare me, people with big builds and are tall make me shake like a new born puppy, and women with red hair make me speechless with nervousness. It wasn't them specifically that hurt me in the past, but the damage has been done to me emotionally. Going out alone is something that I can't do, being frightened that I am going to be hurt again. I'm always looking over my shoulder, to see if someone is following me, and it's hard for me to relax around anyone, except *Other One*, or when I'm on my own. I am extremely vulnerable, and scared of everything and anything around me. I've forgotten what it was like to smile, to laugh, and to have a good time, and I doesn't know if I'll ever feel relaxed, loved or just happy again. Sad, isn't it? I'm broken. My friends are trying to help me, they really are. But it's not working. I'm broken.
I absolutely love: ~ Onion rings (the crisps)
~ Anything chocolate
~ Being hugged - something that hasn't happened since I was a child.
~ Rom-com movies
~ Fashion
~ Sewing - I loves it, and it's the only way I have been able to make a little money since moving to NYC.
~ Curling up on something comfortable and reading my favourite books - Peter Pan and Wendy, The Chronicals of Narnia and The Wizard of Oz.
~ Being happy - again, something now unfamiliar.
~ Subway sandwiches - the best cheap food that I can buy.
~ Nice people
But I can't stand: ~ Really loud noises/music/anything.
~ Cynical people
~ Jam
~ Large bodies of water
~ Rich people that flash their money all the time.
~ Farm animals - cows, goats, sheep. Ew.
~ Smoking
~ Sports
~ Nuts
~ Public transport, I'd much prefer to walk.
Oh, and I'm petrified of: ~ Being hurt. Again
~ Large men - be it via muscles, height of weight, it frightens me.
~ Needles
~ Death
~ Being sick
~ Cnidophobia is another of my fears, it's one of string. Don't even ask.
~ Oh, and creepy old dolls make me nervous too.
If I could, I'd love to be: A fashion designer, making skirts and other items of clothing that could be sold everywhere. But of course, that couldn't happen. I don't have the materials, or the confidence, to do that.
But in reality, I work here: Selling my items of clothing on a little stall in the market.
Shhhh, don't tell anyone, but: I was branded by that stupid gang leader, who got a hold of me, and pressed the hot poker onto the base of my back, near my rear. No-one knows about it, and I will never tell anyone about it - it's one of the reason I don't let anyone touch her. Not even *Other One* knows about it. It's just a small 'X', but it still hurts to know that someone thinks I belongs to him. Also, I've never been able to be myself in front of anyone - I'm not the girly girl that people think - I'm more of a tomboy that just likes pretty clothes. But I won't show my true personality in front of anyone. Why would I? Oh, and I'm not a virgin - however, does rape count as giving away your virginity? No... didn't think so...
My life so far? Well...: On a snowy, cold January morning, a small baby was found outside Hellman's Home For Orphaned Children in western Tennessee, with the brightest blue eyes a child could have, and a few tufts of blonde hair - an abandoned baby girl at only six days old. A note was attached to the basket that she was left in, saying 'Her name is Olivia Rosalie Castor. Please, look after her.' Millicent Hellman, owner of the Orphanage took the child in without hesitation, being one of the kindest women that you could ever meet, despite her looks making her seem slightly scary. That baby, was me. I was adopted almost instantly, only three weeks after being in the Orphanage. However, the couple that adopted me ended up bringing me back to the home within a month, because I really didn't seem to like it there with them, and they felt it cruel to keep me knowing I wasn't happy.
This happened over and over again whilst I lived in the Home, my only real mother being Millicent, the woman that took me in and looked after me every day, as well as all the other children in the Orphanage. I was adopted more than ten times during my life there, but every time, I ended up annoying the couple too much, being too much hassle for them, or just not talking to them at all. I only felt at home when I was in the Orphanage - so that was where I always went back to. Sure, all of the families that adopted me were lovely, most of them beautiful couples, with beautiful homes, and beautiful lives. But that wasn't for me. I didn't seem to fit in with any of the couples or families that adopted me into their homes, and up until the ages of 16, I always ended up at the same place; Hellman's. Whilst Millicent and all the children that lived in the home loved having me back all of the time, she still didn't think it was very good for me, coming in and out of the Orphanage as I did - because as well as messing up my own childhood, I was also giving ideas to the younger children, that if they didn't like families that they were adopted to, they could always come back, which wasn't always the case. Another bad thing was, that the Orphanage had a policy. No-one over the age of 17 could stay at the Home, so had to move out. I still wasn't homed with a family by the time that I reached this age, so of course, I had to say goodbye to everything that I knew that that seventeenth birthday rolled around. No-one was happy to see me go, especially Millicent, but they were the rules, and they had to oblige. Throughout my time at the home though, I had a friend. A really good friend. *A-Team Member Four*. Despite how young we were, I knew that we were destined to be together. To be honest, I think he's the main reason I wanted to return to the home all the time; just so I could stay close to him. But that didn't last though. After out first kiss, his family made him move. I was only 15. I was now alone. I missed him so much.
With nothing to do with my life, and no-one holding me back in that stupid little hick town any more, I decided to leave, and after a tearful goodbye to all of my friends that I counted as family at Hellman's, I left. I hopped onto the next train out of the town and made my way to the only place that I could think of to go - New York City. However, when I got there - I began to rethink the idea. The city wasn't what I had expected it to be at all, and because I had no money left now, the bit I had being spent on travel and some food, there was nowhere for me to go - nothing for me to do. After walking around aimlessly for a couple of hours, I was eventually spotted by some men. Big, beefy men. Scary men. The sort of men that you take one good look at, and then get scared in case they come over to hit you for looking at them for too long. Yeah? Those men. Luther was the leader of the gang, that one that the rest of them looked up to. Gordon was the next one to be scared of, Tanyawas the only girl in the group, the only one able to tell them to do anything, and then there were a few others - exactly the same of course, big, beefy and scary.
Was I wary of these guys at first when they came over to me, offering me a place to stay, even when I said that she had no money? Of course I was. I wasn't stupid. However, when I finally said no and tried to walk away from them, it was then that I realized that I had made a terrible mistake not running away from them as soon as they came towards me. Luther grabbed me by my blonde locks and dragged me to their 'home', and since that they were in the back streets of the City, with no-one around apart from them, there was no-one that could save me. After that - it was then that I lost everything. After three years of being with them, I lost my free will, I lost my virginity, I lost my happiness, and I lost that beautiful colour in my eyes - all because of these people. They tortured me, tormented me, branded me, starved me, used me as a play thing. I was left tied up to a chair for a couple of days with no food and water, men coming in and out just using me and then leaving again without even a backwards glance into what they were doing to me. They turned me into a psychical and an emotional wreck, an irreversible thing to do.
However, one day, I found her escape. Gordon and Luther came in drunk, everyone else having come back hours before, and were already asleep. They abused me for a while, just like they always did, bringing me to tears just like they always did, drawing blood from their beatings just like they always did. But after a while, they passed out on the floor, leaving the door wide open for me to run. Somehow, I undid the knots that were tying me to that wooden chair, and I ran, my legs failing a couple of times, making me fly to the ground, but I soon got up again, thinking of freedom. When I had run more than I ever thought she could, I collapsed outside a building, where I was found and taken in. As soon as I was well again, the bruises on my face vanishing, and all the dried blood from over my body washed off, I left the house in the middle of the night, terrified of human contact. It wasn't that I wasn't grateful for what they had done for me, I was. I was just scared of them.
All of this happened two years ago. And now? I'm in a relationship with *Other One*, despite *Other Two* wanting to kill me, and I'm slowly getting better. He's helping me become the person that I once was, before everything happened to me. I'll never be the same, I know that, but I'm trying. I have my own little stall on the market where I sell my clothing, and I'm beginning to make friends. But I'm still always looking over my shoulder, jumping at any noise, and shuddering at every breath behind me, wondering if Luther and Gordon will ever find me...