Post by SASHA ALEXEI RASKOLNIKOV on Feb 12, 2010 7:42:59 GMT -5
SASHA ALEXEI RASKOLNIKOV.
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* FEELS JUST LIKE WE'RE LOSING CONTROL.
and if you let go, then i'll let go tonight.[/center]
TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF.
-All recordings were translated from the patient’s native tongue, Russian-
"I do not like to talk very much, especially about myself but you say I must for the records.. Maybe things will be better at that new place, that Alkaline Asylum.. Maybe they will know how to help me.. I think I will talk but only this time..
My name is Sasha Alexei Raskolnikov. I am eighteen years old and my birthday is on the seventh of July. I am male and I do not know what my orientation is because I would rather not think about such things. I do not think it really matters very much. Some people will say I look like that boy, Alex McKee, I don’t know who that is.
I have dark hair and blue eyes.. I used to have my hair longer since I was seven but they cut it shorter when they brought me to the institution. At first I did not like it.. There was no way for me to properly hide my face and I used to do that a lot.. But now my hair is a little bit longer again.. Not as long as before but I think it’s better now. I don’t want to go back to having the longer hair.. Too many bad memories.. This is enough for me to hide a little and that is all I can ask for."
TELL US ABOUT YOUR MEDICAL HISTORY.
[/size][/font]"They are not sure what is wrong with me and I do not know either. I know I am not like other people but there can be many reasons for that and I have thought about this a few times.. I think it would be obvious to say that it was because of my past, of what he did to me.
Maybe I was just angry and had finally snapped.. People do that sometimes I think but I was always quiet and I tried so hard not to do anything wrong so I still can not understand why I would do what I did.. I still can not even remember it. It seemed like a dream and a piece of it is missing..
They said I stabbed him.. What I remembered after was that I had the knife in my hands and there was so much blood.. They think they can explain that.. That I had in fact ‘snapped’ but then when that happens to someone it is quick and for a short time.. There say I that gap where I can not remember was for a while..
My mother said it was for at least two hours.. I didn’t believe her at first.. They said I had stabbed him fifty-four times.. I couldn’t believe that either at first but when I think back now.. I think maybe it did happen because of what I saw when I could remember again.. I couldn’t even recognize it and for a few minutes I think I could not even understand what it was in front of me and what I had done.. I think it was horribly but maybe it was for the best.. At least now there was no way for him to hurt my sister the way he had hurt me.."
HOW CAN WE ACCOMODATE YOU BETTER?
[/size][/font]"I don’t know.. I prefer to be left alone. If you leave me alone then maybe I might be okay.. I don’t like talking about some things, like what happened and my past.. I don’t want to talk to anyone about any of that. I am fine, and everyone just needs to leave me alone.
I don’t like when those people make me talk about things and try to find out why I did what I did. I think it is very obvious but they still keep asking and I don’t like that. It is frustrating because I don't even know the answers myself. I am sorry for what I did but only sometimes.. Very rarely.. and only because I’m scared of him, talking about it will make it worse, I hope you can understand that.
Otherwise, there is not much I can say.. I miss my family and I want to see them but no one will let me see them.. They say it is not that they will not let me see them but that my mother and sister do not want to see me. All I can do is write letters but they never reply and sometimes I think maybe those people were right.. Maybe they really do not want to see me. I think that maybe what I had done was really so bad that they will never want to see me again.
You want to know about fear and weakness now.. That I can tell you a lot about. I am afraid every day of a ghost.. Of him, that despite what happened he will still come back and haunt me and I know I am going to hell and nothing I do can change that so why should I want to get any better? Why should I want to fix this? It is pointless.
I know I am weak but I accept this. Not many people can say they accept something like that but I can. It has been proven to me every single day of my life so I can never forget it. I have been weak since I was a child and it still has not change.. I think that will never change."
TELL US ABOUT YOUR PAST.
[/size][/font]"All this time, I keep talking about him and now you want me to tell you who that is. I know you know everything already but if you want me to then I will repeat it for that tape of yours.. Maybe some where in there you will find the way to fix me. I don’t think you will but I can hope.. There is always hope, even when it is useless.
When I was born, my father wanted a girl.. I don’t know why but he did. He was not very happy when I wasn’t one but still he knew he could do nothing about it. They named me Sasha.. That was supposed to be the name of their daughter but there was me so I had to have it. I did not mind though, Sasha is also a name for a boy. As far back as I can remember I think things were fine. I do not remember too much of the good things but I remember fear when I was little. He used to come home drunk.
Mother once told me that if only he saved the money he spent on the alcohol that maybe we might get out of this place and that things might be better.. I am not sure she was right. Anyway, he would come home that way and he would beat her because of things she had done wrong. I was too young then to remember the things but I know there was a lot of shouting and I would hide in my room. Back then, my small room was the only place I could be safe but that changed when I was about seven years old.
It started quite simply. We were at dinner one day and he was drunk again, I could see from the way he spoke, his words were not so clear. He said I was very pretty, that I looked like a girl and he pushed my hair from my face. It was long then. My mother was going to find time to cut it the next day. She was always so busy with things, always cleaning and trying to make sure he would have no reason to be angry with her. She told him she would cut it tomorrow but he only shouted at her. He did not like it, he said we should leave it long. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell him that the other boys would laugh at me but I didn’t. I said nothing because of the fear.
Things slowly got worse after that. Sometimes he liked to pretend he did have a daughter.. He would pretend I was a girl but I was too afraid to say anything to him so I always stayed quiet. He would come to my room at night and at first he would just talk to me but things would only get worse after that. He did things I don’t want to repeat, he hurt me but I don’t want to explain it.. He would also beat me quite badly if I ever said anything wrong. If I told him to stop or anything like that which was why I tried so much to say nothing at all… I was too afraid to… And my mother, she said nothing as well and that did hurt me.. I am still not sure which was worse, that my own father would hurt me or that it seemed my mother did not care enough to stop it. I know that she knew what was happening but the more time he spent with me, the less he would shout at her and beat her.. Maybe that was why she said nothing.
When I was nine years old, my mother was pregnant again. This time it was a girl, the girl he always wanted but he didn’t seem as happy as we thought he would be… He was more interested in spending time with me and I did not like it but there was nothing I could do. It got worse as I got older. He would beat me more and criticize everything. He would tell me I was weak and worthless that I could do nothing about it and I believed him.
As I got older, when I was about sixteen, I started to keep a knife by my bed. I hid it well and he never found it. It was just in case.. I always thought that maybe if it got worse I could stop him somehow.. But it was already so bad that I knew I would have no reason to use it. There was no worse situation, I was sure of it.. But I was wrong. One night my sister, Katarina, she came past my room. The door was slightly open and she pushed it open. He looked at her and I knew that look instantly. She was just seven years old but I was that age when it all started. I afraid for her.. I knew what he was thinking. I knew he would hurt her and I was so afraid for her.. I didn’t want that to happen.. Then everything went dark. I don’t remember what happened after that..
What they say I did, I couldn’t believe them. For the longest time I thought, this can not be true but it was.. There was all the evidence of it.. Of what I had done. What I remember after the blackout was that knife in my hands and a body in front of me.. It was so covered in blood I couldn’t recognize it. For a while I did not even know what it was. There was blood everywhere and it was all over my hands.. It was all over me and then I knew who it was and I thought, ‘No, this can’t be him.. This can’t be my father’.. My sister wasn’t there. I don’t know what she saw but she had run to my mother and she was crying and I knew that was my fault. My mother shouted at me to leave but I couldn't.. I only wanted to protect her and instead I had caused her to be hurt..
They sent me away after that.. To an institution where I was for two years.. I am eighteen now and still they do not know why I did that and I still can not tell them because I do not know myself.. "
IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE?
[/size][/font]"I don’t think I am very dangerous.. I know I would not hurt anyone on purpose but no one seems to believe me.. They like to keep me alone and locked up a lot of the time.. They say it is for the safety of all.. But I don’t mind.. I like being alone. No one can ask me questions when I am alone.
[[OOC: I was kind of going for level four character.. But obviously it’s up to you guys.. Just thought I’d let ya know]]"
THE MASTERMIND BEHIND IT ALL.
[/size][/font]hey, my name is -V-.[/color] i have Many[/color] tracks spinning on my record. this is my SECOND[/color] character. i have been roleplaying for Over A Decade[/color]. the password is 'silicone and saline' poison, inject me' [/color].[/font][/size]
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Lyndon still had his reading glasses on which wasn't a particularly good thing but the boy tended to be a fraction too absentminded when he was preoccupied. Walking down the street, he had his mind focused on his work, the papers were held close to his body quite protectively in his arms. They were his work, his very important bits of work that were some how going to come together quite nicely and form his dissertation and then everyone would be in awe of it and proclaim him to be the best thing to happy to his field of study in a long while... Or at least that was the plan.
Lyndon's scholastic life had been rather dull. When the other students weren't mocking him for whatever reason, he was locked away in his room studying. He didn't think he was much of a genius, just that he had a lot more time spent on his studies than anything else. Skipping a year or two here and there became quite routine for him and now and almost twenty, his dissertation was close to getting finished and he would have his doctorate.
Students at that age were always cruel as far as he was concerned. Lyndon had studied at a very prestigious all boys boarding school and was tormented for being gay and when he turned to studying, they tormented him for being too bloody smart. Either way there was no winning and before long he had given up completely on making friends which meant that he lacked a few key social skills. It didn't seem to affect his quality of life terribly much though, with his attending Oxford and now coming here, away from the people who had teased him in school, to do his dissertation.
Walking up the street, his eyes were focused on the ground until he was struck by a force, with a yelp, his papers fell to the ground and Lyndon scrambled to gather them up and re-order them, not even looking at whoever it was that had bumped into him and caused the accident in the first place. No, his papers were of the utmost importance and everything else could bloody well wait for his attention. Unfortunately a few of them had fallen near a drain and gotten a little wet, picking them up, Lyndon look purely horrified.
"OH not the bleedin' polytrope equation!" he exclaimed, though not terribly loudly. Lyndon could get quite melodramatic when the mood strikes but he had never really been the loud type. He knew he could simply re-print the page he needed but right now he was busy mourning the loss of those few pages..
Lyndon's scholastic life had been rather dull. When the other students weren't mocking him for whatever reason, he was locked away in his room studying. He didn't think he was much of a genius, just that he had a lot more time spent on his studies than anything else. Skipping a year or two here and there became quite routine for him and now and almost twenty, his dissertation was close to getting finished and he would have his doctorate.
Students at that age were always cruel as far as he was concerned. Lyndon had studied at a very prestigious all boys boarding school and was tormented for being gay and when he turned to studying, they tormented him for being too bloody smart. Either way there was no winning and before long he had given up completely on making friends which meant that he lacked a few key social skills. It didn't seem to affect his quality of life terribly much though, with his attending Oxford and now coming here, away from the people who had teased him in school, to do his dissertation.
Walking up the street, his eyes were focused on the ground until he was struck by a force, with a yelp, his papers fell to the ground and Lyndon scrambled to gather them up and re-order them, not even looking at whoever it was that had bumped into him and caused the accident in the first place. No, his papers were of the utmost importance and everything else could bloody well wait for his attention. Unfortunately a few of them had fallen near a drain and gotten a little wet, picking them up, Lyndon look purely horrified.
"OH not the bleedin' polytrope equation!" he exclaimed, though not terribly loudly. Lyndon could get quite melodramatic when the mood strikes but he had never really been the loud type. He knew he could simply re-print the page he needed but right now he was busy mourning the loss of those few pages..
