Guy WIP
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Warren Peace
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Name: ❝ I'm sure it's in your patient files. Warren Peace. And I'm sure you don't need my file to guess that's not my birth name. I prefer not to share things that could link me to a not so great time of my life. Now here's the part where you ask what happened to me, right? Well don't hold your breath. I'd rather not sit in your mind as a victim.❞
Age: ❝ A whole 21 years old. Yup, the age of alcohol and quote on quote, freedom.❞
Gender: ❝ Female, surprise surprise.❞
Hair: ❝ There isn't really any one answer to that question. I dye my hair frequently, from blue to black to red to whatever I find on the shelf that I like. I'm trying to be extra good so I can get some hair dye in here, my blue-black is starting to fade to my boring natural brown.❞
Eyes: ❝ Ugh, they're that dull dark brown that looks black unless you shine a flashlight in my face and come within kissing distance. I'm very ashamed of them. I've always thought of getting contact lenses, but then I'd feel stupid every time someone complimented my lying eyes.❞
Rank: ❝ What? Is that what you call it? I'm guessing that your question is whether or not I behave. Well like I said, I'm trying to get some hair dye in here, so I've been restraining myself to remain in the Privileged position.❞
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Disorder: ❝ I am a Paranoid Schizophrenic *jazz hands* Basically, what that means is I hear and see things that aren't there and I'm the type of person that will whisper about how the government watches me because I'm wearing silver jewelry. As long as I take my meds, though, I won't run around screaming that they're coming for me. Oh, me being a schizo led to some minor depressive issues, but that's not even worth mentioning. It's not what makes me REALLY crazy.❞
Personality: ❝ Oof. Asking some deep questions, huh? I'll try my best. Well, first off, the reason I'm in the nuthouse is 'cause I don't play well with others. See, when people find out I'm a nutter, they all have the same reaction. Something goes off inside them that tells them I'm dangerous and that they need to get as far away from me as possible. Needless to say, I didn't love to see that switch go of in people's eyes, that moment where they had already decided who I was and what to do with me. At least people in here don't judge because most of them don't have the mental capacity to judge. Hey, I'd rather get a blank, lifeless stare than watch mothers guard their children from me as if I'm contagious. Besides the bitter, sarcastic attitude that comes with hating the world, I do have my share of coping mechanisms. Humor, for example, is my favorite escape. I'm hardly ever serious, even when it's totally inappropriate to be cracking a joke in that moment. I like making fun of people, usually playfully, but if you're the defensive type we probably won't get along. I like to prove to people that I am more than my disease, so I usually won't bring it up in conversation. I love tattoos, as you can clearly see, drawing, music, and playing guitar and piano. I can be a bit OCD at times, but not clinically so. I just get a little twitchy when things are out of order or uneven and I will probably go off on you if you misuse literally. I love to observe other people and their interactions, studying their behavior. Because of this, if I'm in a room with a group of people, I'll probably sit quietly for a while before speaking at all. That's all I can really think of off the top of my head, so I'll guess you'll have to figure out the rest on your own.❞
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History: ❝ I already told you, I won't touch that subject.❞
Warren was born as Ashley Jennifer Johnson. A normal girl living in a normal neighborhood with a seemingly normal family. From the outside looking in, the Johnson's seemed pleasant enough, the average suburban family with their trimmed hedges and well dressed daughter. However, what no one saw, what no one even imagined, was how imperfect this family really was. Warren's mother had had abusive parents as a child, raised in the worst of neighborhoods. When she left at 18 years old, already pregnant with her first and only child, she decided she was going to provide a better life for her dear daughter. Unfortunately, people's childhoods often weigh on them, no matter how hard they try to fight it. Warren's mother always found herself with the same abusive losers that her mother had married. She ended up marrying one of those, an abusive loser. However, this man hid his abusive lifestyle well enough that he was a prominent member in society, well known by his neighbors and high up on the career ladder. Warren got whatever she wanted, as long as she asked in front of other people, that is. In the privacy of their home, however, a much different story played out. Warren was carefully abused in ways that left no evidence. This left emotional scarring that still hasn't completely healed. When Warren turned 18, she ran as far as she could, changing her name and hair color to distance herself from those destructive memories.
