Announcements: Initiative: Promoting Forum Roleplay » Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Platonic numbers » No complaints (a little bit of rappin) » Any multi-player roleplay videogamers here? » Needing a woman's perspective on a concept » Gluts and Gaps » Universal Basic Income » Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Plato’s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism »

Players Wanted: Players wanted for a science fiction adventure. » Players needed for Fantasy Romance reboot » One(1) male & Two(2) Female Roles OPEN <3 » Talmora: Kingdom of magic » Looking For A New Partner » Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ٩( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. »

0
followers
follow

Hannah Ashton

"I realized when I was eight that I wasn't a princess. Because princesses get happy endings, and I don't."

0 · 746 views · located in New York City

a character in “She, He, Her, Him, We, They, Them, Us”, as played by rosalie123

Description

Image
"I often imagine how other people would react to my death..."
Name:Hannah Margret Ashton "Such a pretty name for such an ugly girl such as myself..."
Age: 16 "Sometimes I wonder if I'm too young to know this kind of pain..."
"Issue": Mental depression; suicidal

Physical Description:

Image

Eyes: Hannah's eyes are a peculiar hue that wavers back and forth on the line between green and blue. "I wonder what color my eyes'll be today..."
Hair: Her hair is almost a golden color, seeming darker in the winter and lighter in the summer, and it's always in her face. "It's blonde. Yellow, like hay."
Body: Hannah is rather small, standing fully grown at 5'2", but she doesn't seem to mind. She's on the skinny side and rather pale. Her fingers are long and slim- pianist fingers, some would call them, although she detests the piano. "Multiple times, people on the bus have mistaken me for a child, it's rather irritating..."

Image
Image

Personality:
Hannah is.... different. She's never really had friends. Socializing doesn't work well for her. She's been bullied, though. By none other than Jason Meth. And his tormenting and rough housing is only one of the many reasons why Hannah contemplates putting a gun to her head and a bullet through her brain daily. She's painfully shy and remains quiet- unless she's yelling at and cussing out Jason. Hannah is very artistic and often gets excused from her other classes to paint in the art lab all day long- she's smart enough that it doesn't really matter. Oh, and she can't stand chaos and dissaray; she's a little OCD, you could say. Chaos and dissaray upset her to the point of panic attacks when becoming too intense, but nobody really cares.

Image

History:
Once upon a time, Hannah was a happy little girl. Then her dad died of Leukemia when she was eight, and everything spiraled downward. Her mother became an alcoholic and abused Hannah whenever she felt like it- and still does. Hannah had a brother, Marcus, who committed suicide two years after their father died- he was fourteen, Hannah was ten. That's when she seemed to loose her grip on happiness and on life itself; Hannah and Marcus had been extremely close, and the two had been almost as close to their father, so when Hannah lost one and then the other, she died inside. The first time she cut herself was the night she found Marcus's body in the bathroom, surrounded by empty pill bottles. She's never been happy since.

So begins...

Hannah Ashton's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Hannah Ashton
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

It was raining outside. Beer bottles covered the floor and the smell of vomit was strong on the first floor of the house. Her feet, clad in her black converse, maneuvered around bottles and cans silently until she reached her room on the second floor. She closed and locked the door behind her, cringing as the old house shook as thunder rumbled outside. She moved to the corner of the room opposite the door and sank down onto the stained mattress that was her sad excuse for a bed. Her closet door was open.

She knew exactly where It was. It was in the wooden jewelry box her father had made her before he died, tucked away in the very back of the closet among boxes that kept happy memories of a healthy father, a happy brother, and a sober mother away. It had been taunting her for years- six years, to be exact- like the voice of a mother calling for her lost child, calling for her. She could remember all the times she had been so close to ending it all. Holding It tightly in her shaking hands, sobbing and in pain from either the most recent beating or binge.

But It still remained tucked away in the jewelry box that has never held jewelry. And right now, as she sat on her stained mattress in her barren room with claw marks and blood stains on the wood floor, she was so desperate at that moment that she wanted- no, she needed to dig it out of Its hiding place and put a bullet through her brain. Trembling, she stood, with tears welling up in her lost green eyes. It took her only moments to pull the gun out from Its hiding spot and load it. She stared at herself in the mirror on her wall with desperation.

A girl with long blonde curls and pale white skin stared at her with lost green eyes that were almost painful to look at. Her body was sickly thin and her hollow cheeks were streaked with tears. There was a scar under her left eye and her nose looked crooked- like it had been broken but never properly healed. And she held the barrel of a gun to her temple. Letting out a shaky breath, she let her eyes flutter closed and prepared to pull the trigger.

Then a door slammed open down stairs. "Hannah!" someone yelled with a drunken slur. Her eyes shot open as panic rushed through her veins and fear clenched her heart. Oh no...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hannah Ashton Character Portrait: Jason Meth
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Once you die, no one can hurt you...
Her breathing became shallow as her heartbeat became so deafening she could barely hear her mother's drunken footsteps on the stairs, nearing her. She went numb, mentally and physically, as fear that no sixteen year old should ever be acquainted with came over her. Blindly, Hannah shoved the gun into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. Heavy footsteps echoed down the empty hallway as she turned towards the window. She rushed at it, unlocking it and shoving it upwards with all her might. It didn't budge.

"Hannah! Little bitch, answer me!" her mother's drunken slur came from the hall way. Hannah continued to push at the window with all the strength she could muster. A loud bang on her door caused her to jump- and shove the window up half way. Silently, she thanked whatever force had just helped her and continued to push at the window as her fear continued to rise. "Are you in there?" her mother screams from the other side of the door. The window slides up again, just another good push and she could fit through. "If you're in there you little whore, you better fucking answer me or I'll cut you up so much your body won't be recognizable if it ever heals!" she threatens. The window slid up, completely open now.

"Hallelujah!" Hannah cried at an audible tone, and then she froze. Oh no! Her door flew open and a scream left Hannah's mouth as her mother lunged at her with an insane speed. Her mother's hand latched onto her ankle and dragged her down to the floor violently. Her head hit the floor and black spots danced in her vision as she clawed at the floor, fighting her drunken mother like she had so many times before. As her mother cackled at her struggling, Hannah managed to land a kick to her stomach and break free from her grasp when she doubled over in pain. Her mother recovered quickly though, and when she stood up, she held a kitchen knife in her hand.

Dad died because the doctors couldn't save him. Marcus died because the voices in his head drove him to desperation. I'm going to die because I wanted to, not because I couldn't fight off my drunken bitch of a mother. she thought sternly.

Her mother lunged forward and she dodged, the knife missing its target of her neck and instead carving an insanely deep and painful gash in her left forearm. Hannah screamed in pain and anger, lunging at her mother. The knife's blade dug into her cheek as she tackled her mother to the floor, banging her head against the wood flooring again and again until her eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp. Hannah's breathing was shallow and weak as she checked and noted that her mother had a pulse. She may be a bitch who deserved to rot in hell, but Hannah refused to become a murderer.

Quickly, she moved to the window and jumped out, latching onto the tree outside and slowly climbing down to the ground. The rain soaked her to the bone within seconds, making her wounds burn painfully. She ignored the feeling of her warm and sticky blood trickling down her face and coating her arm as she ran madly through the rain. Blindly, she turned a corner and ran right into a wall. Crying out in pain as she landed on her cut arm, Hannah fell into the deserted street and the gun slid out of her unzipped back pack.

That's when she heard it. An inaudible voice. A new round of fear rushed over her as she looked up, her form trembling from the panic and the cold of the rain as everything slowly started spinning from the blood loss. And then she saw the eyes. Two, beautiful, olive green eyes.

"Fuck."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hannah Ashton Character Portrait: Jason Meth
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Zander
Just keep going.

He ran, and ran, and ran. The rain continued to attack him, cold projectiles stinging his skin, joining with burning muscles and straining lungs and irritated heart to create one big hell of hurt. Just keep going. He wouldn’t stop until the pain hit him like a fist to the chest. Even then, he’d still continue. That’s what he told himself. Because running was all he could do to forget. One foot after the other until he couldn’t even move. He just had to keep going.

Then it hit him.

He fumbled back slightly, but caught his balance. ”What the fuck?” he breathed, as befuddlement crossed his features. He alleged he wouldn’t stop if pain slapped him bitterly, and it did—he felt like he had really just been hit—but clearly that wasn’t the case. His entire mind seemed to halt as he heard a cry of pain. WHAT? In a moment, his head scanned the surrounding area, landing on a small blonde dame in the sprawled out in the street. Bloody trails streaked down her face, along with a substantial pool on her arm. His eyes took in the entirety of her trembling frame, until finally, his gaze met hers. He was taken aback when her lips uttered an annoyed curse. It was hard to see her in the rain, but he knew that voice by heart.

Hannah.

Hannah? A bloody Hannah? He was confused as hell. But, tearing his eyes away, for clearly she abhorred him and wouldn’t want his mug in her gaze, he glanced at the other object beside her. A backpack lay open on the pavement, a dark object a foot or so away. He squinted, trying to make out the dark figure. It was a handgun. Furling his brows, he tried to connect two and two together. Bloody Hannah running in rain, pistol in her backpack. Oh, he tried, but he couldn’t quite figure out a logical explanation.

His throat cleared, and he slowly crouched down where he stood. “So, what? Are you such a god damn clutz you cut yourself cooking or something?” Why not ask her if she’s okay, idiot. “And what’s with the gun? I’m sure you couldn’t shoot straight worth a damn. A child like you. Are you… okay?” His lips pressed together in a grim line. Oh, yeah. He was so smooth. Not. Way to go, doing this when she’s freaking shredded in the rain. Hey, wouldn’t the rain make you lose more blood? is she seriously okay? She isn't gonna pass out or something, is she? God… “What did you do, anyway?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hannah Ashton Character Portrait: Jason Meth
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

"So what? Are you such a god damn clutz you cut yourself cooking or something? And what's with the gun? I'm sure you couldn't shoot straight worth a damn. A child like you. Are you... okay? What did you do anyway?"

It takes a moment for Jason's words to register in her brain. All she can do is stare at the gun in between them both. It was her father's. Then it was Marcus's. Now it was hers. She made a rash decision and hastily snatched up the gun before standing up in front of Jason with a weak and trembling form. His beautiful eyes widened as she raised the handgun to her temple with a trembling and bloody hand.

"There hasn't been food in my house for over three years, so no I did not cut myself cooking. The gun is for the suicide I'm about to commit, and I think I can shoot pretty straight from close range. And I'm not a child!" she hissed, stamping her foot and contradicting herself unconsciously. "And no, for your goddamn information I am not okay!" she didn't know what she was doing. One of the few promises she'd made to herself was to never tell anyone- dead or alive- about her life. But now here she was, face to face with the one boy that had been the cause of immense confusion, pain, and even heartbreak in her life.

"My father and brother are dead, my mother's an alcoholic from hell determined to kill me, and you are some sort of douche bag that doesn't know when to fuck off- or at least be a little fucking nice to someone! God, I'm sorta glad it was you I ran into! I hope this makes you feel guilty, Jason Meth!" Hannah yelled, her tears mixing with the rain as she made to pull the trigger. But, before she fire her world spun and her knees gave out.

And then she passed out.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hannah Ashton Character Portrait: Jason Meth Character Portrait: Margo Greene
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Looking down at the street she saw two figures standing. One was a female, blonde small and skinny. The other was male tall, brownish blonde hair and a black jacket. Something flashed and then she saw the blood. "Shit!" she cursed as she ran into her room and grabbed her bag. She stumbled out the door, and fell on the road. Faint voices were coming closer. "Urgg!!" she yelled as she got up and started running down the street towards the two figures. Panting she dodged some furniture movers and made it down the hill safely. She yelled and waved her arms at the two. "Hey! do you need help?!" she asked. Her eyes went down the girls cheek and saw the blood pooling on her arm as she was laying on the ground. Images flashed inside her mind and then the black smoke came back and stared her down. Screaming Margo held her eyes and fell to her knees, crying and whispering I see it. Her other side was coming out. Slowly she rose up stacking each and every vertebra on top of each other. Her blonde wet hair hung over her face. "I see it!!! Now its coming to get me!!!"she screamed in a terrifying voice and lunged at the girl. "You want to die?!?! I can make that happen!!!" She yelled again.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hannah Ashton Character Portrait: Jason Meth Character Portrait: Margo Greene
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Zander
Holy fuck. DAMN, his mind listed off just about every swear word he knew how to say. What the hell had he done? How could he be such a fucking idiot? How had he gone from running around in the rain to somehow causing the suicide of a girl? All he could do was stare at her as she held the gun up to her head. It was all he had the mental capacity to do, beside pale to the hue of a freshly bleached sheet.

Listening to her troubles made him feel like an asshole. Even more than usual. There was a random thought thrown in with his panic, the fact it was really cute how she said she wasn't a child yet threw a little stomping tantrum, but the thought disappeared. Now was NOT the time.

She said she hoped it made him feel guilty, and it did. Like the burning flames of hell it did. He would probably get chewed out by god now and sent to hell for murder. Then all the demons would hate him just like everyone on earth, and he’d be even more alone. He’d be alone because he was a worthless piece of shit that nobody liked. Understandably, too… he wasn't worthy of anyone’s love. It hurt him so bad—because no matter what, he knew he’d never be good enough. And this, this, proved it. He should be the one with a gun to his head. He held a hand out to her,

“Hannah sto—“

It was too late. Or, it would have been, had she not passed out. Oh, god, he dodged a bullet there. Well, she did, technically. Though, he did too. Lord knows he probably would've killed himself if she had lost her because of him. Hyperventilating, he ran a hand through his hair and prepared to stoop down and get the gun and pick her up. However, he was stopped when another girl came out screaming like a lunatic. She was saying something about seeing something and it coming to get her. Then, much to his increased horror, she threatened to kill Hannah and lunged towards her.

He immediately put his own self in her path, wrapping his strong arms around her in an odd hug with an ulterior motive of restraining her. “Shh,” he said, not really knowing what else to do. He needed to call for help for Hannah, but there was this crazy chick. What do you say to a crazy chick? That was a hard enough question to answer as it was, but now he had to talk and be nice like a normal person. No more teasing, if he could help it. He made a silent promise to try not to harass Hannah anymore. “It’s… It’s okay, nothing is coming to get you. Um...I promise… okay? I’ll, um, protect you…?” It was a long shot, he thought… but, still worth a shot, right?

“She doesn’t want to die,” he lied, “It was a...mistake. She wasn’t thinking properly, but, uh, thank you for offering to help her… er… die. That was, um, kind of you…” Nodding purposefully, as though he meant every word, he continued on to bite his lip and cautiously release her. “Hey, uh, you asked if we needed help a minute ago, right?” Swiftly, before the crazy girl could do anything if she planned to, he picked up Hannah before scanning for the nearest dry place. “Can you call 911? I don’t have a phone on me. She needs an ambulance—now.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hannah Ashton Character Portrait: Jason Meth Character Portrait: Margo Greene
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Zander
Finally settling on a slightly covered place, Jason moved forward to get her out of the rain. Hopefully it would help with the bleeding a little. Key word—hopefully. God—she better not die. He’ll never be able to live with himself if she dies. Having literally nothing else to do with his panic, he started a chant in his mind as the other girl fiddled with her—apparently shitty—phone. Please, please, please, god. Please. Don’t let her die. I swear—I’ll lay off her. I’ll never even look at her again—just, please, let her live… Oh, god, please… I’m sorry… I never wanted her to… please…. His thoughts became slower and slower as she became colder in his arms. The sirens were off in the distance, but they were closing in fast. He wanted to pass out. This was dizzying. Terrifying. Why was he such an asshole?

The ambulance came pretty quickly, and they took Hannah from him and put her on the stretcher in the back of the blaring vehicle and they buzzed all around her and took off. It was almost as though he were only half aware of everything. Part of him wanted to get in the ambulance and go with her. But he knew he didn’t have any right. No right at all. Oh, but her mom wouldn’t be there for her—would she? No. Hannah said her mom wanted to kill her.

The other girl asked about the gun. OH—SHIT. The gun. Distract her, or she’ll fucking murder you and Hannah. “A gun? Oh, yeah. Hey—Thank you so much for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you… I’m, um, Jason. What’s your name? You know, you… you seem like a very nice person. We should be friends. Is that a British accent? Are you an exchange student or did you just move here or what?” He managed a weak smile.

His mind went on this seemingly long tangent, though in reality it lasted only thirty or so seconds. Well, he should call CPS on her mother; get Hannah to a safe place. But that could be traumatic for her. Hey—she already hate him, so what does it matter? It would be for the best. Oh, but the Kelly’s were looking for another teenager, weren’t they? She could end up living with him. Oh, god. She would hate that. He wouldn’t, but it would be awkward, and she would hate it. Oh, screw it. He’d figure it out later if she didn’t die.

As the ambulance sped off, he stood there in the rain with the other girl. Crap—he’d been tuning her out. Becoming aware again, he listened to what she had left to say, then—suddenly, he interjected. “She could die,” he said, more to himself. That trumped any right he did or didn’t have. “I’m going to the hospital. She doesn’t have anyone else… Would you like to come with me? I can give you a ride on my motorcycle, since you’re already wet… You did help her, so… yeah.”