THE WHO
FRIENDLY. UNIQUE. BROKEN. Kennedy Paige York
AGE. Twenty three
BIRTHDAY. May 13th
OCCUPATION. Journalist, aspiring author
BIRTH PLACE. Lampton Hill, England
NATIONALITY. English
ORIENTATION. Heterosexual
PREMADE TITLE. The Departed
PLAYBY. Michelle Trachtenberg
THE WHAT
FRIENDLY. Kennedy’s always been friendly, even in times when she’s completely shut down and backed away from everyone she still did her very best to be polite and kind to those who broke through her many walls. It isn’t in her nature to be cruel to someone for no reason. Why should she treat others like dirt when in turn she doesn’t want to be treated that way? Some people don’t believe this to be a true trait of Kennedy’s, considering at one point she completely stopped talking to everyone she knew and eventually broke all ties. She is, however, trying to redeem herself.
UNIQUE. Marching to the beat of a different drum, eccentricity, unconventional; all ways to properly describe Kennedy’s personality. She has always been the offbeat sidekick to everyone else’s shiny glory. And truth be told? She’s never really minded being that person. In fact, there are times when she still wishes she was that offbeat sidekick. Lately she’s become more of a single entity, standing on her own. Where her friends might think that the perfect night out involves a few drinks and dancing, Kennedy would rather sit at home reading a book or go shopping at a thrift store. Not everything has to be loud and flashy to be entertaining.
BROKEN. It take a lot to consider a person broken, to take what someone once was and tear it into pieces and glue it back together with different things and change them. But it happened to Kennedy, she had been torn to bits. The bubbly high school student she was well known as had been buried deep inside and on the surface she sported a mature journalist who didn’t allow herself to dwell on the past. Instead she moved as far from it as possible. Tragedy can transform a person and that transformation can stick with them, even five years later. Kennedy was not immune to this.
LIKES. Jelly beans, jones soda, spring in England, music magazines, thrift stores, coffee shops, independent films, fast food, good music, good guys.
DISLIKES. Alfredo sauce, high heels, snow, movies with babies, meaningless newpaper articles, porn, people with babies, big birds, mushrooms, bug-eye sunglasses.
THE WHY
BEST MEMORY. Although soon to follow was her worst memory, Kennedy's best happens to be the day she and Wesley first saw their child. The very first ultrasound, the only one she had that she even cared to remember. She remember the cold goo they squirted on her midsection and how odd the whole experience felt. But most of all she remembered seeing the little misshapen form on the screen that the technician was pointing to, and the way Wes reacted. They were children having a child, but they were possibly the only ones who could have made it work.
WORST MEMORY. Not long after the ultrasound Kennedy remembers so fondly was the night she would never forget. Hanging out in her then-boyfriend's bedroom like she did most nights after discovering she was pregnant, Kennedy was plagued with a sharp pain in her stomach. From there it was a blur, a rush of movement, pain and fright. It was hours later when she actually learned that what she was experiencing was a miscarriage.
Kennedy York was the first born child of Bethany and John York, a couple who had only been married for a few years before welcoming a child into the world. They didn’t stay married much longer either. Kennedy was probably seven when her parents split for good. No normal child was as ready to accept divorce the way she was. Maybe it was because she knew her parents didn’t get along or because she wanted everyone to be happy. Either way, it didn’t hit her hard until much later. Probably around the time she was in middle school and really started getting friends. Before then she’d just been the little weird girl whose only friend was the boy who lived across the street. Everyone else’s parents were together, or just discovering that divorce was an option. It was then when she realized what divorce really meant. Her parents wanted nothing to do with each other.
She couldn’t honestly say that later in life this troubled her relationships any. As she grew up she made friends, great friends, who she attached herself to. Alyson Kent ruled Kennedy’s life for ages, not that she really cared. She didn’t mind being the sidekick. It was in high school when that kind of changed. Alyson was dating someone Kennedy had feelings for, or thought she did, and she didn’t acknowledge Kennedy at all while she used him. It was only after they had broken up that Kennedy learned the relationship wasn’t real but instead a cover for Alyson’s real boyfriend, the socially unapproved of Finn Heaton. By that time Kennedy no longer had feelings for the boy Alyson used and realized that really he was just a way to ignore those she had for that darling boy across the street, Wesley King. While her friendship with Alyson was recovering her romance with Wesley was growing. They were true-blue soul mates.
At only eighteen Kennedy found out she was pregnant. Initially she was scared and then later very much overjoyed with the idea of starting a family with Wes. It was very early when she miscarried, something the doctors said happened all the time for many different reasons. One even said to her to thank god she didn’t have to raise a child so young. For months after she shut herself off from people, only spoke when she had to and finally left to visit her father after her mother prompted her to take some time away from Lampton Hill. Upon her return she tried to make her relationship with Wesley work and her friendships survive but eventually she gave up and broke all ties. When it was time for university she left Lampton Hill and attended the University of Sheffield in South Yorkshire, living there on her own with no real intention of visiting Lampton Hill. That was, of course, until someone convinced her to come back for Alyson Kent’s wedding.
THE HOW
RP SAMPLE.There was a time and a place to thank the heavens for interior decorators that believe in incredibly lavish bathrooms. These times included, but were not limited to, intense hangovers, visiting relatives and the stomach flu. The latter of which had been bubbling in the pit of Aiden Prescott’s stomach for the last few days. He had been feeling a bit under the weather, not incredibly up to par, but not too bad. It was nothing he couldn’t deal with on his own or ignore until it went away. That was at least until tonight when the virus decided to wake up and wreak havoc on his innards.
Around the time he’d been getting ready to treat himself to dinner, as he frequently did when he had no solid plans set for the night, a dull ache that only seemed to get worse as he moved was born into his abdomen. Naturally, he wasn’t too worried about what he concluded was only a stomach cramp. He had been experiencing a bit of abdominal pain and nausea all day. Deciding to venture out and feed himself despite the onset of irregular ache in his midsection, Aiden returned to the home he shared with Sloane only to find himself sleeping in a chair minutes later.
It was after he woke up when what had begun as a sick feeling had become a full-blown sickness. He felt groggy and weak when he sat up, fists rubbing at eyes that were sporting dark rings and feeling unusually heavy. Maybe he had felt worse these past couple of days than he had let himself believe. There was no way whatever this was could just appear out of thin air like that and now that he thought about it he had been feeling quite ill before he had gone to bed last night and decided to just sleep it off.
Illness and Aiden simply did not mix. Yes, he was prone to a hangover every once and again but that was not necessarily a sickness. Things like the common cold and the seasonal flu were known simply as man’s worse nightmare in Aiden’s head. It meant feeling less than perfect and giving in to the petty desires to sleep all day and swallow down a little medicine for reasons that were far, far away from recreational. Being sick just didn’t seem fair, but then again when was anything ever fair?
This was a lesson Aiden wished he didn’t have to learn as he shot up from the chair to rush into the nearest bathroom. He wasn’t a total pig and could at least prevent himself from throwing up all over the floor. And so it went, retching and spitting like a disgusting creature regretting its previous meal, Aiden was reduced to spending his evening back and forth between the chair and the bathroom. He could already tell this was going to be a long night and after pulling the lever on the god-like thrown he was ralphing into, the gurgling whoosh and swirl taunting him, he placed his first call to Sloane.
He spent twenty minutes or ore there on the floor next to the toilet, head resting against a plush towel suspended from the wall on a metal ring not meant to be used for anything other than decoration. Normally he would have rolled his eyes at it or made a comment on its uselessness or just for the sake of being an asshole would have rubbed his wet hands all over it. However, right now he was thanking god for the cushion between his head and the hard wall. May whatever decorator who placed that magical towel there be thanked by eternal happiness and joy.
Alternating between resting, retching and trying to reach Sloane, Aiden was currently on the third step of his cycle leaving yet another voicemail for his stepsister. That had to be fifteen now, or more, way more. He had lost count after the fifth or so whining message, begging her to come home. He was relentless in his pursuit. For some reason he wanted her home, for her to do something, anything to make his pain stop. Dare he say that he actually needed Sloane tonight? As pathetic as it were, he did, even if her presence wouldn’t actually make a difference.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Aiden once again slumped against the wall, dialing out to reach his step-sibling. Again he caught her voicemail and again he let out a low, pain filled groan and began what had become tonight’s mantra for what felt like the thousandth time.
“Sloane, answer your phone. I’m dying, I need you to come home. Please, please come home. I’m absolutely dying. How would you feel if I died right now and all you had left of me were these horrible voicemails asking for your help. Please, Sloane!”
But before he got halfway through the message he stopped, dropped his cell phone onto the tile floor of the bathroom and once again got on his knees to hug the toilet bowl, feeling his insides rejecting the last remnants of what he’d eaten for dinner and a boatload of gastric acid. Disgusting.
I,
JESSE AM
TWENTY AND HAVE READ ALL THE REQUIRED INFORMATION. NOT TO MENTION THINK THIS SITE IS REALLY RAD. JUST SO YOU KNOW MY FAVOURITE THING IS
TELEVISION AND I FOUND WWB
A LONG TIME AGO IN A LAND FAR AWAY.
