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Lua Anne Ward

"How did that get there?"

0 · 275 views · located in Realistic

a character in “The A-Team”, as played by SilentButterflies

Description

Image
Hello, my name is: Lua Anne Ward
But you call call me: Just Lu, will do.
My role in this story is: Other Two.
I'm only: Twenty two.
I was born in: Alexandria, Virginia.
And on the: 14th of April.

If you can't get it from my picture, I'm: a bit unusual looking, you could say. I have the makings of a naturally pretty girl with soft, pixie like features and thick, dark brown curls that frame a heart-shaped face in a gentle shortened style and contrast more than they probably should with my pale skin tone, but my fashion sense is a little bit... quirky, for want of a better word. You'll often find me hiding behind thickly rimmed frames if I fancy aiding my vision without contacts on a particular day or if I'm feeling at all reclusive. Statement accessories like that, as well as being practical in this case, allow me to feel like I'm on a bit of a rest-bite if I can't be bothered with too much make up, or if I'm not all that fussed with how I look. Everybody has down days right? I mean, mine seem to have become more random lately, more scattered. I don't know why though. Maybe it's just stress? But anyway, yeah, if I do fancy bothering with my appearance, you'll often find me with minimal face make-up anyway- I have quite clear skin and naturally rosy cheeks so I'm lucky enough to be able to live without foundation - and with more emphasis on outlining my eyes, which makes their natural colour (a very pale blue/grey shade) seem slightly more intense than would naturally be so. I like to experiment with make-up, using my face as a clean canvas and the applicators as paint brushes.
As well as the erratic curls that seem always to be in apparent but delicate disarray, the general style of my hair creates quite a thick full fringe that holds a natural wave and has been a point of ridicule over the years. People always seem to claim that I have bed hair but I don't know, even if I do, I quite like it.
Fashion sense wise, I don't dress particularly differently to other people if I'm honest. I have an affinity for vintage jumpers, and I practically live in tights and leggings but other than that my clothes aren't much to scream about. Don't get me wrong, I like to add my own twists and indie fashion is an area that I particularly like to explore but all of this costs money, money that I don't really have. You'll usually find me in charity shops rather than high street stores.

People say that I'm: strange. Individual. Different. Once again, for want of a better word, quirky. Unless you know me, and I mean, really know me, then your reaction to my personality, at first, probably won't be all too positive. I've always been the same, always had a strange outlook on things. I'd like to blame it on the bullying, I mean, it'd make it so much easier to explain but I'm not going to lie, I don't want to. That's the reason they started picking on me in the first place and because of everything they put me through I guess it just enhanced that erratic side of me. My coping mechanism's shot. As soon as I feel my grip upon a situation slipping, as soon as I'm not in control anymore, that... part of me just seems to take the wheel, if you get me. It's like there's someone else living inside of my head, telling me what to say, what to do. And it's even worse if I'm hurt. I just... that mental battering ram has become unbearable. It pounds and it pounds until I snap, until I can't take it anymore. My reactions have become unpredictable, irrational and it all began to happen before I even realized it, rendering me helpless to try and make it stop, before it was too late. Now it is too late and it would seem that there's no going back... or is there?
As soon as I'm offered some kind of stability, or an option that allows me to feel comfortable and relaxed within myself I settle down. It's terrifying, just how quickly my demeanour can change. Off goes that vicious sparkle in my eyes, the unbearable smirk melts away to leave that unfamiliar, sweet set of my mouth, the innocent gaze replaces that of hostility. Sometimes I capture a glimpse of what I used to be like when I was with Other One, before she came along. That caring individual who wouldn't harm a fly. I used to be able to slip in and out of a daydream so quickly, I used to be able to joke with the ones that I could call friends, my friends, the ones who wanted to be around me just for me. I was always the daft one, the one who'd laugh at her own ability to trip over thin air. I was harebrained but it was good, because I was genuinely kind with it. You could maybe call me the child of the group, naive and innocent, even after everything that I've been through. I always wanted to see the good in everyone and I was off in my own world a lot of the time, but I'd make people want to join me, simply because my life seemed so worth living. But not anymore. When Other One shut me out of his life, like a good for nothing pet who'd outlived what she was useful for, and replaced me with someone countless times better, it shattered my heart and whatever was left of the sanity I'd been holding onto. But I will get him back, I will. By whatever means possible. I'm like a dog with a bone, at least, that side of me hasn't changed. The determination never went away... but then neither did the naivety.

I absolutely love: Indie/Alternative/Folk music, my banjo, eating fish and chips straight from the paper, sleeping on freshly cleaned sheets, the smell of laundry, blue bonbons, Jenny Lewis, Thomas Hardy, Mikado and cats.
But I can't stand: the wind, forgetting about a cuppa and realizing it's gone cold, sweet potato, unpredictability, hunger pains, realllyyyyyy high heels, false nails, fake tan, bubble and squeak and cities at night time. I don't know, they just feel really sad to me.
Oh, and I'm petrified of: spiders, or anything that has more than four legs and moves with scuttling speed. Shudder. Oh and being alone. I never used to mind, in fact I used to appreciate any me time I could grab a hold of but now it allows that voice more room to speak and I don't want to listen anymore. Being around people quails it's strength so I'll drag you into a conversation even if you have to come kicking and screaming.
If I could, I'd love to be: a folk singer/songwriter. Not one of those who are like really successful, I don't want to be famous. I'd like my music to be up there on a small-scale, you know? Where I can earn just enough to keep me afloat comfortably, and where I can write music that affects people, even if it's only a small handful of select individuals. Music changed my life and I want to be able to do the same for others.
But in reality, I work here: Either on the streets, singing for coins or I work nights at The Nova, a backstreet bar with a chilled out indie vibe. Sometimes I even manage to snag a slot on stage, if I'm lucky... It's a real great place, I don't know, it's just the walk home that gets me every time. Cities and darkness and all o' that.
Shhhh, don't tell anyone, but: I'm a kleptomaniac - only Other One knows about this. Honestly, I'm not even joking. I've always had this urge to steal things of no significance, little things like, I don't know, washing line pegs or something. And sometimes I don't even realize that I've done it, things just appear in my bag and I can't recall how they got there. It's gotten me into trouble in the past but considering how small and ridiculous the items are, people usually believe the explanation I give them. I've never stolen anything of worth value... yet.

My life so far? Well...: where do I even begin? I don't remember much about my early life in Alexandria, or why and how my parents left me in New York. My memories begin at the orphanage, the semolina and jam they served for desert, the nippy cold air of the rooms in the morning, the lack of heating... the cruel carers. How ironic they should have a name like that... hm. So yeah it wasn't a nice, good place to live. It was almost practically Victorian in the way that it was run and being an all girls' institution led me into a lot of problems. From an early age I discovered that I always got on better with guys than girls. Yes, I'm one of those people, the one that always got called degrading names for having too many male friends. When we were allowed to associate with them, anyway, which was only during school hours. I don't know, they're just so much simpler than girls are. And I like that. You know where you are with most of them, they aren't as willing to stab a knife in your back. Or at least that's what I thought until I met Other One, who basically unraveled any previous belief of the male kind that I'd had. Now I don't trust any of them, why should I? It goes without saying that the other girls who I lived with weren't happy though, and that's where the taunting started. It was only words at first, sharp, nasty little sentences that could get right under your skin with how simply hurtful they really were. And the moment I showed any sign of weakness was the moment that it began to escalate. Words turned to actions, actions to bruises, bruises to scars, both mental and physical. Don't get me wrong, it was never anything serious enough to raise suspicion, they were sneaky like that but it was enough to affect me. As a child I was desperately unhappy. I tried to stop it, I really did. But the staff saw me as a trouble maker, associating with boys and ridiculous misleading music that poisoned the minds of innocent young ladies. I'd never tried to control the wild spirit that I knew resided within me and they resented me for it. For having dreams, for wanting freedom. I had to face it quite quickly really, the idea that me and a place like that were never going to work.

So I ran.

I wasn't unaided in my quest for a happier life. Simon, one of the boys from school who I'd grown quite close to helped me out. I stayed in his shed for a while, god knows how the hell I wasn't found sooner. He slipped me parts of his meal, let his dog stay with me for company, gave me his banjo as a gift. He was the one who first introduced me to real music and I spent a lot of those lonely days teaching myself how to play. The whole situation was ridiculous, really, as was the outcome when I was found simply on the off chance that his father needed a spade for some kind of garden work or something.

So I ran again.

Faster than the last time. Simon's dad was a tall guy. But I knew, I knew if I were caught that they'd send me back, that they'd toss me straight back into hell and I couldn't let that happen, I wouldn't. Not again, they wouldn't win twice. I never did get to thank him though, Simon I mean. I don't think that anybody has ever shown me that much genuine kindness, not even Other One. I'll never forget him, but I knew I couldn't go back and I knew I had to move on. I was slowly learning that if I couldn't ride the current then the waves would chew me up and spit me out before I even had a chance to stop and think.
I spent the next two weeks alone, and it has to be said that I couldn't cope. Maybe it was because I was only fourteen, with no form of street-smarts and an absence of the kind of attitude you needed to survive out there, or maybe it was because I didn't realize back then that to survive I needed someone to fall back on - whatever it was meant that I was close to the edge with no means of coming back. When Other One eventually found me, ragged, dirty and wandering aimlessly through the streets of the city, just one girl and her instrument, I was only a shell of what had been my former self. I didn't want to know. I was scared, hungry and cold. I'd been running from so many people and I was annoyed at myself. Stealing was something that I knew I'd have to do if I was going to live but this... this urge I'd soon developed wasn't normal. And I found myself not stealing food, as crazy as it sounds. The one thing I needed, was the one thing I never ended up with in my hand. Ultimately, it was Other One who taught me of my condition, after we went shopping together during the first few days of the new life he offered me and I apparently displayed the true actions of Kleptomania, unbeknownst to me. It was nice to find out I wasn't just simply crazy though. I was reluctant at first, to let him take me in but when it came down to it, what other choice did I have? So with this new, unlikely founded friendship, my life eventually began to blossom, as did I as a person, growing and allowing him to mold me into someone who could weather the hard life, cope with my illness and attempt to build some kind of a future.

None of that seems possible anymore though. Because he's moved on. When I had Other One by my side, there was some kind of stability there. Now, he's found someone else and so, so quickly. It was as if I was never part of his life. I don't have anyone to take care of me now, I'm on my own again, just like it was before he found me. And I tried to make it hurt less, I tried to get on with my life. I really did try, trading apartments with one of the others, keeping my distance. But it just won't work, there's like a block or something in my mind that won't let me get past the hurt he's caused me. Since then it's been a downwards spiral, overdosing on alcohol, getting wasted, trying to get it out of my mind, erase it all. This is when I slept with A-Team Member Four, soon after my relationship with Other One ended. But of course I didn't know that he was going to come back into my life later on, how could I have possibly predicted that? It was also then that that drunken man assaulted me at the bar. Maybe I was leading him on, I can't really remember but when I refused he got nasty... then I hit him and run. I've never hurt anyone like that before... is this the new me now? Everything I'm doing's so out of character and it scares me. It's like going after Other Three; he's a nice, caring guy. He's always looked out for me more than the others, what if he gets hurt in all of this? Why am I so willing to take that risk, to win back someone who so obviously doesn't want me? I can question it all, doubt my actions, but I know that it just won't stop me. I don't know, is this all life's going to be? One game after another, one let down after another? And you wonder why I can't cope anymore. It's just so much easier to embrace the insanity now, rather than continue trying to fight it...

So begins...

Lua Anne Ward's Story