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Erin Hawthorne

"Most people say that I have anger issues. My reply is that I'm very in touch with my primal side, and wonder if they'd like to see it."

0 · 426 views · located in Arcana Academy, California

a character in “Arcana Academy”, as played by Imagine That!

Description

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Full Name: Erin Katerina Elizabeth Hawthorne
Nicknames: If people decide to give me a nickname, it's usually Eri.
Age: Eighteen
Birthdate: Second of February.
Home Town: I've lived in numerous places. I was was born in Milwaukie, Oregon, but I've lived in other states, and other countries like England, South Africa, Australia, and Russia.
Sexuality: I'm a bi-curious, but I haven't actually done anything with a girl yet.

School: Noctrem Academy.
Power: The technical term for my power is feral rage, however, I prefer the phrase "angry-bitch-not-to-be-fucked-with." When something irritates me, or upsets me to the point where I get angry, I can't hold back. I'm like a real-life Hulk, if you will - once I get angry, I see red, rip my shirt open and start talking like a caveman. No, seriously - I can't control what I do once I hit that stage of anger. My mind taps in to some sort of primitive urge to want to hunt, to kill, and I attack. Simple as that. Only sedation can calm me down, but once I do wake up, I feel absolutely shit. My body aches, I'm violently sick, and I have the biggest headache you could imagine. It's like being hung-over, only with the blood of someone else on your hands when you wake up.
Likes: ♦ Chocolate chip-cookies ♦ partying ♦ having lots and lots of rampant sex; for someone with a primitive drive like me, this is a very important part of life ♦ warm duvets ♦ nature documents - I love seeing how much I relate to the animals ♦ pizza rolls... actually, pizza anything. I love pizza. ♦ the rain ♦ gymnastics and kick-boxing - it helps me relax ♦ painted toe-nails ♦ red apples - don't be giving me those green shitty ones.
Dislikes: ♦ People who are extremely in touch with their soppy sides ♦ too much cologne/perfume on a person - it clogs up the senses ♦ any sort of fizzy drink, minus any alcohol ♦ waking up after a sedation - that feeling is the worst combination of pain and guilt ♦ my parents ♦ ketchup ♦ public displays of affection - they're just gross, okay? ♦ people who irritate me on purpose ♦ jelly, with it's disgusting texture and watery taste ♦ any underwear that isn't a thong - they're so uncomfortable and make me feel incredibly un-sexy ♦ the smell, taste and everything of fish.
Fears: ♦ I'm petrified that one day, I'm going to be locked up in a tiny cage, trapped against my will - Cleithrophobia. I also have an irrational fear of belly-buttons (Omphalophobia). If someone touches my belly-button, I'm most likely going to break their nose, throw up on them, and then pass out.

Personality: I'm honestly one of the worst people to be around if you like consistency and I don't like being labelled specific words such as bitch, slut or heinous whore but some people like the labels. I'm really not all that bad; I'm only a nightmare to be around when I'm angry. When I'm not angry, I'm a nice enough person. Don't come to me whining though; I don't deal with that. I'm incredibly detached from most social norms, and talking to people about feelings is another one. I prefer to be on my own, as a matter of fact - I'm quite solitary. I suppose I like having friends when I want to party, and I am a partier, but other than that, I see no point in them. I'm extremely emotional, and I tend to let my emotions rule my brain. Especially when I'm upset or angry. Yeah, you don't want to be the person who makes me cry or scream with rage. I'm uncaring about the people around me; I don't care if I upset them, or get them angry at me - why should I give a shit? Finally, I wouldn't say that I'm a slut, but I do like to have sex. Sex is amazing, and it links me to that primitive urge that runs my life. I'm flirtacious to anyone that I know I'll get a fuck out of. I have a quick mouth, in the sense that if you say something to me, I'll have some sort of sarcastic/b] and [b]witty comment to hit you back with. I don't like intentionally being bitchy, but if I have to be, I will - I'm not someone you can just walk over.

History: I was born to a pair of super-rich bastards who honestly couldn't have given me a better childhood. I wasn't ignored as a child, despite my parents having extremely time-consuming jobs, and lots of important meetings to attend to. They always had time to spend with me and my older sister Serena, but I could tell that there was something off about them. Our life seemed t[/u]oo perfect, too happy, and I just didn't like it. Everything from our forced smiles in photo-shoots, to the plain white decor of our house was wrong. It all seemed false, like a huge pretense - a lie. So, I started to act out. I didn't like feeling that uncomfortable, and I wasn't going to just sit around and deal with it. So, I lashed out at my sister a lot, biting, scratching and hitting her. It felt good, to let out some of the anger out that was pent up inside of me, and despite my parents warnings and tellings off, I carried on. Soon, my anger also turned onto them - I once pushed my mother down the stairs and she broke her arm. Of course I didn't mean to do it - I pushed her, she was by the stairs, everything came together in a horrible way.

At the age of thirteen, I turned into one of those horrible little rebellious children that hangs around in the park at midnight drinking cheap wine. At the time, it was incredibly fun and I felt so free. I didn't have to be anyone else in front of the group that I had associated myself with, and I was just me. They didn't expect anything from me, and I nothing from them. My powers erupted from me one day with no warning what-so-ever. One night, we were at the park, and Lewis, one of the boys we were hanging around with had bought some drugs. Now, even though I was all into the drinking and the smoking, and the doing bad shit, I didn't like the idea of drugs. So, when everyone else left that night, he got angry at me and kept me behind. I don't really remember much of what happened, as my mind was so clouded by alcohol, but I do remember waking up with my top torn, blood on my hands, and Lewis' body literally shredded at my feet.

The police thought an animal had attacked us. Some sort of wild cat, or bear. Obviously, strange to see in a city, but yet, everyone believed it. My parents on the other hand looked extremely worried, and shuffled me inside the house. They sat me down and specifically asked me what had happened, and I actually told them the truth for the first time in my life - "I don't remember. I just... remember him trying to touch me... shouting at me... I felt extremely scared, then... well, angry..." And that was when they decided to tell me about my hereditary feral rage. Since then, I've been living in a variety of different places. I've lived around the world, my parents paying for the best psychiatric help for me - as they believed my "problem" could be solved via drugs and countless sessions of people asking me "how I'm feeling." Yeah, it hasn't. I'm so scared that I'm going to be locked up again in a white padded room with bars on the doors... I can't have it happen again.
Anything else? I was pregnant at the age of fifteen, but I miscarried. It was probably for the best though, but it really tore me up. I've also got a crappy immune system - I get sick all of the time, and I have to take copious amounts of drugs to keep me well.

So begins...

Erin Hawthorne's Story