Aliena Collins
Full Name
Alienna (Al-ee-yay-na) Vera Collins
Age:
Nineteen
Gender:
Female
Personality:
Aliena is closed off to the world. After spending her life in pain and misery, she's come to not trust those around her. Love? There are times when she doesn't believe it even exists, having never felt it in her lifetime. Though whenever she does come out of her shell, she's got a sharp wit, one that she's not afraid to use. She loves mystery, and can never say no to a challenge. Whatever she doesn't know, she'll work to figure it out. And now, besides being locked in some strange mansion by god knows who, she still feels free. Free of the pained life she'd lead all this time. She can now smile at the fact that in time , bruises will disappear, and the memories of her past will fade away with time.
Why You Are Here:
Murder. She killed her father.
Love Interest:
Pending
History:
Flashback:
"You worthless bitch! You took my wife from me!"
Aliena Collins looked up in horror as her father barged into her room, grabbing her by the hair, and pulling her out, beating her with anything in his sight-line. A belt. A book. Or just his fists. He reached the stairs and threw her down, charging after her, a raged look in his eyes.
It'd been like this since Aliena was six years old, when her father had succumbed to being an alcoholic. He blamed her for the fact that her mother had died in childbirth. He said that she'd killed her. That she wasnt worth the life she lived or the blood that ran through her veins. He'd even go so far as to blame her for his drinking habits by saying that she'd slip the alcohol into his drinks. She hated him. With every fiber of her being she hated him.
Her father grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall. Little blobs of spit landed on her face as he screamed in her face. She never begged for mercy, never pleaded for him to stop, and she never screamed. She just kept her eyes locked on his, as though trying to taunt him into actually killing her. He slammed his hand against her face before dropping her. Falling down the stairs had twisted her ankle. She could hear her father laugh coldly, which gave her strength to pull herself up to her feet. She nearly fell back to the floor when she put her weight on the injured ankle, but hastily limped on to the kitchen.
Today, she thought, today was the day.
She could hear her father thundering after her and she quickened her pace. She rummaged through the drawers for the biggest knife she could find, but all she could find was a small blade. As her father reached the kitchen he grabbed a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from the counter and threw it at the floor. The bottle smashed into a million pieces, and the whiskey pooled out, spreading across the floor. She looked round desperately for anything flammable, and grabbed a dishcloth hanging on the oven door handle.
"That's right bitch, clean it up! Clean it up you fucking whore!"
As he took a step towards her, he stepped on a large piece of glass, which cut through into his foot. He fell to the ground with a thump.
Aliena turned and opened the oven, turning it on and waiting for the fire to light. When it did, she let the edge of the cloth take fire, before throwing it to the ground. The whiskey instantly caught and the blue flames began to spread. Her father was lying in it and had to jump up and scramble out of the kitchen. His alcohol soaked clothes caught fire but managed to put it out by rolling on the floor. He couldn't get to his feet because of the shard of glass wedged in his foot, but he still tried. In the kitchen Aliena was searching through the cupboards and drawers, searching for anything that might help her. She found a bottle of white spirit in a cupboard and a box of matches in the drawer below it. Her father tried to crawl into the kitchen, still thinking he could get to Aliena, but she noticed a knife sticking out from under a pan in the sink and grabbed it. She stood in front of her father, holding the knife menacingly in her hands.
"You dont have the guts."
She looked at him, not saying a word. He made to grab her but she quickly slashed at his wrist. He let out a yell, before covering his wrist, trying yo slow down the flow of blood. She kicked the foot with the shard of glass in which caused him more pain. While he was distracted, she plunged the knife into his back. Not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to keep him from movingHe was now just lying in a heap on the ground. When he looked up, there was a look in Aliena's eyes that held no mercy, no emotion, but most of all, no regret.
Finally her father was terrified of her. After victimizing her for so long, he never thought she'd be capable of killing anyone but herself. And now seeing her not only ready to kill him, but doing it with no emotion and no regret, terrified wasn't even the word to describe how he felt.
"Just kill me! Why drag it out?" he tried to shout, but came out as a loud whisper. Aliena didn't reply, but stood up and reached for the bottle of white spirit she'd left on the counter. She stepped over him so she was closer to the door before kneeling over him again. She unscrewed the lid and poured the spirit over his wounds, making him scream louder than he had when she'd first cut him. As he screamed she poured the rest of the spirit into his mouth. Some of it he accidentally swallowed, making him scream more, but with the remaining spirit in his mouth he choked. As he coughed, thrashing about, she lit a single match and dropped it into his mouth. The spirit ignited instantly, and having swallowed a large portion of it, burned her father from the inside out. The death was slow and painful, and his face was haunting as he screamed, however no sound left his lips. His skin began to bubble as it burnt, the smell of burning flesh and hair filled the house. Without a word, she ran upstairs, grabbed what few things she had, including a jar of money she'd hidden, before running back downstairs and turning back to the burning corpse that lay in her kitchen. She'd hated him until his last dying breath, but even then, he'd been her father.
But without shedding a single tear, she ran from the house.
It was while she was trudging along the streets, her ankle shooting pain into her leg with each step, that the street lights flickered. She looked up, and they flickered again. When she looked down, she jumped. There was a man, standing barely a foot away from her. He wore a dark suit and a large hat.
After that, she blacked out.
Other:
Mask:
Full Name
Alienna (Al-ee-yay-na) Vera Collins
Age:
Nineteen
Gender:
Female
Personality:
Aliena is closed off to the world. After spending her life in pain and misery, she's come to not trust those around her. Love? There are times when she doesn't believe it even exists, having never felt it in her lifetime. Though whenever she does come out of her shell, she's got a sharp wit, one that she's not afraid to use. She loves mystery, and can never say no to a challenge. Whatever she doesn't know, she'll work to figure it out. And now, besides being locked in some strange mansion by god knows who, she still feels free. Free of the pained life she'd lead all this time. She can now smile at the fact that in time , bruises will disappear, and the memories of her past will fade away with time.
Why You Are Here:
Murder. She killed her father.
Love Interest:
Pending
History:
Flashback:
"You worthless bitch! You took my wife from me!"
Aliena Collins looked up in horror as her father barged into her room, grabbing her by the hair, and pulling her out, beating her with anything in his sight-line. A belt. A book. Or just his fists. He reached the stairs and threw her down, charging after her, a raged look in his eyes.
It'd been like this since Aliena was six years old, when her father had succumbed to being an alcoholic. He blamed her for the fact that her mother had died in childbirth. He said that she'd killed her. That she wasnt worth the life she lived or the blood that ran through her veins. He'd even go so far as to blame her for his drinking habits by saying that she'd slip the alcohol into his drinks. She hated him. With every fiber of her being she hated him.
Her father grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall. Little blobs of spit landed on her face as he screamed in her face. She never begged for mercy, never pleaded for him to stop, and she never screamed. She just kept her eyes locked on his, as though trying to taunt him into actually killing her. He slammed his hand against her face before dropping her. Falling down the stairs had twisted her ankle. She could hear her father laugh coldly, which gave her strength to pull herself up to her feet. She nearly fell back to the floor when she put her weight on the injured ankle, but hastily limped on to the kitchen.
Today, she thought, today was the day.
She could hear her father thundering after her and she quickened her pace. She rummaged through the drawers for the biggest knife she could find, but all she could find was a small blade. As her father reached the kitchen he grabbed a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from the counter and threw it at the floor. The bottle smashed into a million pieces, and the whiskey pooled out, spreading across the floor. She looked round desperately for anything flammable, and grabbed a dishcloth hanging on the oven door handle.
"That's right bitch, clean it up! Clean it up you fucking whore!"
As he took a step towards her, he stepped on a large piece of glass, which cut through into his foot. He fell to the ground with a thump.
Aliena turned and opened the oven, turning it on and waiting for the fire to light. When it did, she let the edge of the cloth take fire, before throwing it to the ground. The whiskey instantly caught and the blue flames began to spread. Her father was lying in it and had to jump up and scramble out of the kitchen. His alcohol soaked clothes caught fire but managed to put it out by rolling on the floor. He couldn't get to his feet because of the shard of glass wedged in his foot, but he still tried. In the kitchen Aliena was searching through the cupboards and drawers, searching for anything that might help her. She found a bottle of white spirit in a cupboard and a box of matches in the drawer below it. Her father tried to crawl into the kitchen, still thinking he could get to Aliena, but she noticed a knife sticking out from under a pan in the sink and grabbed it. She stood in front of her father, holding the knife menacingly in her hands.
"You dont have the guts."
She looked at him, not saying a word. He made to grab her but she quickly slashed at his wrist. He let out a yell, before covering his wrist, trying yo slow down the flow of blood. She kicked the foot with the shard of glass in which caused him more pain. While he was distracted, she plunged the knife into his back. Not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to keep him from movingHe was now just lying in a heap on the ground. When he looked up, there was a look in Aliena's eyes that held no mercy, no emotion, but most of all, no regret.
Finally her father was terrified of her. After victimizing her for so long, he never thought she'd be capable of killing anyone but herself. And now seeing her not only ready to kill him, but doing it with no emotion and no regret, terrified wasn't even the word to describe how he felt.
"Just kill me! Why drag it out?" he tried to shout, but came out as a loud whisper. Aliena didn't reply, but stood up and reached for the bottle of white spirit she'd left on the counter. She stepped over him so she was closer to the door before kneeling over him again. She unscrewed the lid and poured the spirit over his wounds, making him scream louder than he had when she'd first cut him. As he screamed she poured the rest of the spirit into his mouth. Some of it he accidentally swallowed, making him scream more, but with the remaining spirit in his mouth he choked. As he coughed, thrashing about, she lit a single match and dropped it into his mouth. The spirit ignited instantly, and having swallowed a large portion of it, burned her father from the inside out. The death was slow and painful, and his face was haunting as he screamed, however no sound left his lips. His skin began to bubble as it burnt, the smell of burning flesh and hair filled the house. Without a word, she ran upstairs, grabbed what few things she had, including a jar of money she'd hidden, before running back downstairs and turning back to the burning corpse that lay in her kitchen. She'd hated him until his last dying breath, but even then, he'd been her father.
But without shedding a single tear, she ran from the house.
It was while she was trudging along the streets, her ankle shooting pain into her leg with each step, that the street lights flickered. She looked up, and they flickered again. When she looked down, she jumped. There was a man, standing barely a foot away from her. He wore a dark suit and a large hat.
After that, she blacked out.
Other:
Mask: