Post by Lena Melnyk on Feb 7, 2016 0:31:50 GMT 2
x
Lena Petrivna Melnyk
the basics
the life style
the looks
the personality
Extremely moral, Lena holds everyone--including herself--to the same high standards. There are no shades of gray for her. Everything is either black or white, good or evil, and every person is the same. She has no tolerance for mistakes, either from herself or another person. Approval--primarily from her friends, especially Aldrin--means the world to Lena and she will go to great lengths to obtain it. More than human approval, however, Lena seeks the approval of God, and the salvation of her soul, which she hopes to merit by being as good as she possibly can be.
Timid and bold by turns, Lena resembles a vicious, but well trained, attack dog. Formerly obedient to her family, she remains wary of strangers, and is prone to attacking first and asking questions later. Her training in self-defense hasn't exactly helped this tendency. She can be painfully shy and awkward, but, if pushed enough, she can stand up for herself. Her history makes her particularly susceptible to threats of physical harm, but threats of a religious nature work as well. Lena desperately wants to be "good," which, for her, means doing what she's told, when she's told, how she's told.
Lena does possess a fascination with and fondness for children, and is unwilling to harm them. Their innocence comforts her, and she seems to see them almost like angels. Though usually feeling little remorse for her violent actions, if Lena brings harm to a child, she's wracked with guilt and sorrow. Guilt plays a large part in other areas of Lena's life as well.
When she feels that she's been disobedient, or has failed in some way, she cuts herself with a sharp silver razor blade, on her back and shoulders. She sees this as a form of penance, and a well deserved punishment for not living up to expectations. The blade is always with her, so that she can use it whenever the need arises. The pain she feels provides a kind of release, helping to assuage her feelings of worthlessness that come from her failures.
Receiving a rudimentary education at the convent, she can read and write well enough in Ukrainian, but her grasp of English is poor, and while she can speak enough to get by, she has difficulty reading and writing in the second language. She's also not terribly proficient at practical self-care--her penchant for eating candy at every chance she gets, in lieu of actual food, serves as but one example[break]
the history
She was two hours old when the midwife took her, wrapped in a blanket, and made for the orphanage. Her mother. Mariya Boiko, was a poor woman and she had found love with a man who wasn't her husband. Now, she had to get rid of the evidence, so she sent the child away..
She was five the first time the sisters who ran the orphanage locked her in the closet. There have been other punishments--she'd been dunked in ice water for having toileting accidents, she'd had her mouth washed out with soap for talking back, and she'd been spanked--too many times to count--with Sister Polina's leather strap for many different things, but mainly for taking things that didn't belong to her, and for biting, and for scratching--and this wasn't the first time they've shut her away from the other children. But it was the longest, up till now, and when they let her out, five months later, she was<I>different</I>. Before, she was loud, always running, always screaming. Now, she was quieter. She rocked instead of rages, hummed instead of screamed, sucked her fingers instead of scratching. They thought they'd tamed her at last.
They hadn't.
She was quieter because she was smarter. She was smarter because of the friend she made in the dark. A friend no one else could see. A friend she called Mouse Baby. At first, Mouse Baby was just a pile of bones and some fur. Then, she she started talking, and walking. Mouse Baby kept her company in the dark, and stayed with her afterword, giving her advice. Mouse Baby was her best friend.
She was seven when the sisters claimed she was possessed for the first time. She'd heard the sisters say something similar before. The sisters said it when they beat the children till they were more bruises than skin--<I>I'll-beat-the-devils-from-you-if-I-must</I>. She'd even heard them said it to her, right before she got the strap--she'd stopped asking what she'd done; the answers, when they came, didn't make sense: she-had-a-proud-look, she-didn't-do-her-chores-well-enough, she-was-sloppy. She-was-impertinent. She-was-alive. Mouse Baby told her the last one, and she was always right.
This time, it was different. This time, they didn't beat her. They took her to the cellar and left her there.
She was eight when they let her out, hoping--praying--that the demon--the one they saw her talking with, the one they locked her up to banish, has left her.
It hadn't.
She was nine when she killed another creature. It was a kitten, and she'd found it, roaming the outskirts of the small town they went to to buy supplies. She'd smuggled it home, hidden it in her room.
Sister Polina had a rule. No pets. But Lena had brought home creatures before--rabbits and birds, mice and squirrels--and always, they'd been kept hidden till they were better be she could let them go. Surely, the kitten would be the same. Perhaps she could even show Sister Polina how good she was at taking care of a pet, and she would let her keep it.
Several hours later, it escaped, running through the orphanage before she could catch it.
The sister caught it, and took both kitten and girl outside. The nun took them to a pond at the back of the orphanage--and talked to her of sin and its consequences--then, holding her hands over the girl's, she helped her drown the kitten.
That was the last time she brought an animal home.
She was nine and a half when she snapped, sending Sister Polina to the floor, and poking out her eyes with a stolen knife. This time, when the sisters locked her up, they weren't going to let her out.
She was ten when a couple from the U.S brought her home. Mr. Melnyk had heard about her through friends living near the convent. He was a well-known, and wealthy, psychologist famous for working with troubled children. He said Lena had an attachment disorder. He said they would help her. Suddenly,there were new rules. She wasn't to go to school. She wasn't allowed anything in her room but a mattress and pillow on the floor, covered with a sheet. She wasn't allowed clothes beyond two outfits--one outfit that was meant to last the week, with another for Sunday mass. She was to earn anything extra by being good--obedient, dutiful and pleasant, at all times.
She was to ask for food, for water, and to go to the restroom. She was to do chores and homework promptly, and neatly. Requests weren't to be repeated--she was expected to do as she was told the first time. She wasn't to rock, or suck her fingers, and she wasn't to take things thst didn't belong to her.
When she was bad--did things she wasn't to do, or was short-tempered or hesitant to carry out a request or careless in her chores or schoolwork--she was beaten and confined to the basement. When she forgot the Asking Permission Rule and took food or water, she was starved--of whatever she'd taken--or, sometimes, given too much, till she was sick. Asking Permission to Use The Restroom was easier to remember. A few days locked in the dark, in soiled clothes, and the lesson took.
She was eleven when she become a proficient thief, stealing food and clothes to supplement the restricted diet and clothing choices her parents allowed her. She took to hoarding toys and other things she found--a habit she'd had at the convent, too, where the other children called her Magpie for it.
She was twelve when she discovered vodka. The liquid fire burned her throat, but helped her sleep. So did curling up on park benches, or inside churches, or on peoples' porches--anywhere thwt wasn't home. One night, the police found her and brought her back. Her father beat her, shutting her up in the cellar for a week. As soon as she was out, she ran.
This was how it went: she ran, she was found, she was brought back. She stopped crying when her father beat her, stopped asking to be let out when he locked her up. He said she was stubborn, willful. Mouse Baby said she was stupid. Maybe she was, because she kept running, each time he let her out.
She was eighteen when it stopped. That time, when she ran, she left New York City behind, hitchhiking and taking buses till she ended up in Chicago. Six years later, she was still there. She had a small apartment a s she worked as a janitor, cleaning office buildings at night and the public library by day. It was a quiet, simple life, and she was, for the most part, happy.
[break]PREVIOUS GROUP/RANK.None.[break]
the roleplayer
She sat up, heart pounding in her chest and eyes flying open. It was only a dream. Well, maybe a memory of something, but whatever it was, it was gone now, and she was safe. She was safe, she was safe, she was safe. Lena whispered the words to herself till her heart stopped thump-thump-thumping like a fist in her chest. She opened her eyes, waiting till the room stopped spinning. Sliding her feet out from under the blankets, she hissed at the cold floor pressing into her bare skin. Bending over, she yanked her socks out of her books and put them on. That was better. Flinging back the covers, she slipped from the bed.
Maybe a walk would do her good. She grabbed her coat and her keys and ducked out the door. Perhaps she'd even find things to bring to Enigma to sell. .[break]
made by remi of rilla go! and adoxography
