Three sisters born in Georgia protected and cared for each other while under the will of an unstable mother, until the oldest ran away. Now after sixteen years apart, Caroline is called back to her hometown to face the life she abandoned.
I could feel that he was a toxin eating away at the inside of my heart, but I learned to love the burn. Even as my skin melted to his touch and was left charred and black beneath his fingertips, I begged for more, always eager to see him again.
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Straitjacket Sisters |Â Original Character Aesthetics:Â Edith Davis [ x ]
“He promised everything would be better this way. And look what destruction he has caused. He truly was a fool, and he has broken my heart for the last time.”
The woman in the woods, the vagrant on the street, the exiled child: Edith is known by many names around Baxton, and most of the citizens know of her past and offer her sympathy.
She became pregnant at sixteen, lost her child, and was chased from the town by embarrassment and hate. Ten years past before she dared to return to her hometown, and when she did, she was barely recognizable. During her time away, she had gotten sick, nearly fatally so, but she fought the illness with powerful, crippling drugs: both of which left her infertile.
When Edith returned to the only home she’d ever known, she was thin, frail, and her once striking blonde hair was gone, replaced by a deep, brown wig that laid curls against her chest. Back in Baxton, she wanted only peace, until the injustice of her past returned to haunt her once more.Â
Now sheltered in shadows,
The quiet song of your breath stirs the dark
Your skin like a rose 'neath my hand
And I can't keep from wondering
Why nothing good could ever stay
Why faith feels like a fistful of sand
worst attributes: short-sighted, aggressive, and stubborn
hobbies: cooking, being with his family/Caroline, and gun practice
bad habit: knowing no boundaries/invasion of privacy
His parents wanted him to be a doctor, like his older sister, but he always wanted to protect and serve. Pushed to it, he left home at eighteen and traveled halfway across the country to Atlanta, Georgia to join the academy.Â
When he met Caroline at 23 and helped her slip away from child services, he recognized how valuable his career could be. But it wasn’t until she resurfaced three years later and wanted to be with him that he found his purpose. For nine years, they’ve been together, healing each others’ unspeakable scars, and facing Baxton is just one more challenge.Â
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best attributes: cunning, resourceful, and compassionate
worst attributes: emotional, selfish, and quick to anger
hobbies: painting, photography, and travel
bad habit: leaving or regressing inward/pushing others away
When she ran away, she never thought she’d be drawn back into that town. For sixteen years, she’s lived as if her past was a horrible nightmare she could suppress. She left after surviving a brutal attack, of which she’s never breathed a word. But the chance to reunite with her sisters gives her hope that the trip back to Baxton won’t be a complete waste.Â
best attributes: intelligent (book smarts), quiet, and witty
worst attributes: naive, weak, and defensive (violently so)
hobbies: reading, playing the piano, and hanging with Lia
bad habit: biting
Tormented and physically abused by her mother, Helen is void of a strong self-esteem, and had it not been for Lia, she might’ve met a darker fate years before. She now sticks close to Lia, obeying her every command without argument yet often picking at Lia playfully, keeping their sisterhood alive.
She is quiet and reserved and speaks exclusively through sign language. Due to an incident when she was a child at the hands of Lorane, Helen’s vocal cords were damaged, causing her to lose the ability to speak without pain, and a jagged scar across her neck serves as a reminder of Lorane’s brutality.Â
worst attributes: obsessive, secretive, and too trusting
hobbies: gardening and restoring her father’s greenhouse
bad habit: smoking
During their childhood, Lia assumed the role of mother for Helen, and she became consumed by the need to protect her and raise her well, often at the expense of her own happiness. Because of this duality in childhood, Lia is constantly torn between being the woman the world sees her for and the one she really desires to be, leaving her to hide fragments of herself from everyone.
He began to pace the room in front of her with a hefty gait, visibly wearing a path into the carpet as she watched his rage boiling over like lava oozing from an erupting volcano, determined to scorch everything in its way.
She stayed back, cradling her wounded hand against her chest. She felt so small in his shadow, as if she were a child being disciplined by a father.
Never before had she seen Nash this infuriated. His work had caused him to suffer through many rough nights--nights when he couldn’t sleep from the jitters in his muscles or the unease in his rolling mind. But on those nights, she could comfort him, ease his worries, and settle his anger.
But tonight, all that anger was directed at her, and if she dared to touch him, she knew her fingers would burn.
I keep swinging my hand through a swarm of bees
I can’t understand why they’re stinging me
But I’ll do what I want, I’ll do what I please
I’ll do it again till I got what I need
[ ... ]
Cause I never get it right
No, I never get it right
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Lia sat at the table, tapping her nails against the hard surface and losing herself in the rhythmic noise as she stared at the rotting and damp cardboard box set before her. After months of cleaning up the house, they had only managed to find this one box of their mother’s treasured collectibles. This was all they had left of her.
Helen had whined about the stench of mold in the attic, so they had quickly dug through the piles of boxes, finding nothing of value--sentimental or otherwise. Old clothes, handbags, and literal pounds of tacky and cheap jewelry were the majority of what they discovered and immediately trashed. There were no trinkets from their childhood: no shoes, no toys, and certainly no photographs. Those boxes just held the painful and obvious truth they both already knew: Lorane was selfish.
Except for the one box that remained. It held journals their mom had kept throughout the years. Although Lorane wasn’t much a pack rat, she was cluttered in her mind, and the ink-laden pages of the journals proved it. Her scrambled and rambling thoughts reached back to her high school days when she had just started dating Peter, their father.
Lia glanced at the clock on the microwave. 6:30 AM. Helen wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour, probably longer. She lifted herself from the table and crossed to the coffee maker. She wasn’t eager for a hot cup of black energy; instead, she lifted the lid on its water trap and retrieved the cigarettes she stowed inside, safely preserved inside a sandwich-sized plastic baggie.
She stuffed one of the cigarettes between her lips and grabbed a match from the matchbox beside the gas stove. Striking it, she ignited its tip, pressed it to the cigarette, and shook out its flame as she sucked in a long, low drag. Exhaling the smoke with a content sigh, she stuffed the pack back in its plastic-coated hiding spot and returned to the table.
“So, Ma,” she mumbled, chewing on the cigarette filter. “What’re we reading about today?”
She lifted one of leather-bound journals from the box and opened it where her bookmark rested, ready to pick up where she’d left off. Scanning the smudged handwriting, she fumbled her way through the words, trying to make sense of any of it as she sucked at the cigarette.
“Peter was distant again today,” Lia read aloud with a crinkle in her forehead. “It seems he’s pulling further and further away from me, and I can’t understand why. I’d say I fear him leaving, but it’s as if he’s already gone. He walks but leaves no prints, and his heart doesn’t beat for me anymore. It beats for those girls who stole my love from me.”
Lia scoffed, snapped the journal shut, and tossed it back into the box. She puffed on the cigarette and sank low in the stiff, wooden dining room chair, allowing her spine to curve into a half-moon while she splayed her legs out before her. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the burn of the fire searing a hot line through her lungs while her fingers playfully flicked at its filter.
Hearing a throat clear brought her out of her empty mind, and she peeked through slit eyes to see Helen leaning against the door frame. Coughing, she leapt up in a useless attempt to hide the cigarette.
“You promised you quit,” Helen signed with lightning fast fingers before clenching her hands into balled fists and standing straight.
“I know.” Lia sighed and crossed to the kitchen where she drowned the cigarette in a discarded glass hall-full of water and waiting in the sink from the night before. “It relaxes me.”
Helen shook her head and approached the table to claim Lia seat.
“Don’t shake your head at me, little girl.” Lia turned on her sister and planted her hands on her hips. “I need a stress reliever.”
Helen frowned and drew her index finger across her scarred throat while making a choking noise.
“Oh, ha ha. I know they’ll kill me one day, but for now, they relax me. What’re you doing up this early anyway? Couldn’t sleep?”
She shook her head and dragged the box close to her and began rifling through the items inside.
Lia glanced through the kitchen window over the sink, her eyes lingering on the deep forest that encircled the property. She suppressed a shudder and turned her attention back to Helen. Returning to the table, she grabbed the box and dragged it away, despite Helen’s scrambling to hold it in place.
“No, no, no. I don’t want you reading this stuff. It’ll mess with your head.”
Helen’s frown deepened, and she gestured to the gnarled and poorly healed scar that encircled her neck.
“Right. You probably couldn’t have a lower opinion of Mom than you already do, but still.” She folded the flaps of the cardboard over, hiding the items inside from the light of day. “Leave this alone, O.K.?”
“Why are you reading it if it’s so bad?” she signed.
Lia lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I dunno. I feel like there’s something worth reading in them, something we missed about her.”
“There’s nothing to miss.”
Lia’s eyes softened as she stared at her baby sister, knowing she was probably right. “We’ve thrown away nearly every item she owned. There’s gotta be something, some part of her that was good.”
Helen bowed her hand and stared at her open hands, lying relaxed in her lap.
“Just don’t touch the box, O.K.? And I have to start getting ready for work. You want to stay here today, or do you want me to drop you off at the library on the way?”
Helen rose her head and smiled wide. “Library.”
“O.K. Then let’s get ready and go. I can’t be late for work again.”
“Better shower. You smell like an ashtray.”
Lia laughed and wound her arms around Helen, dragging her close for a hug and purposefully forcing her face against her shirt. “I smell pleasant, and you know it.”
Helen gagged and struggled to pull loose from her sister’s grip while Lia laughed until her sides ached.
Straitjacket Sisters | Story Aesthetics: Arriving in Baxton
Sixteen years since she saw this town, and it was as decrepit and decayed as she remembered. The same stains and faces that sickened her back then still lingered in the store fronts and in the windows of the homes. Leaving this place for a second time was her greatest desire, but for the next five days, she had to clench her teeth, smile, and bear the blow back from turning her back on her childhood home.
So, let me just give up
So, let me just let go
If this isn't good for me, well I don't wanna know
Let me just stop trying
Let me just stop fighting
I don't want your good advice or reasons why I'm alright
You don't know what it's like
Been able to write a lot lately, so I’ve been working on SJS in between editing bouts for Monster. :] I’m rather liking this Southern Gothic genre, and the gray-skinned lady is inspired by this piece I just found. Anyway, enjoy!
~
“What the hell?” Lia shouted louder than she intended as she leaned over the empty sink to peer through the window. Outside, she saw a sprinkling of flickering yellow lights glowing in random spots throughout the backyard and forest.
Do you have a Wattpad? :D I WOULD LOVE TO READ THIS! or anything you've written for that matter! you have a beautiful writing style <3
Thank you so much! :] (I love getting messages like this. *^-^*)
I do have a Wattpad, but nothing’s on it right now. I know I need to use it, though, to build an audience. :/ For now, the best place to read snippets of the story is at its blog, Straitjacket Sisters.
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Straitjacket Sisters | Story Aesthetics: The Coming of the Mother
“We do not wish you harm,” the gray-haired woman confessed while her hands twisted around themselves with an impatient greed.
“And attempting to drown Nash was what?” Caroline screamed.
“A warning,” the woman replied in a bland voice. “If we wished either of you dead, you would be dead. We’ve patiently awaited your return, Miss Caroline, and we’ll await the arrival of the baby you carry even more so.”
A strange group of women wearing all black and lore hats hover around the Alodia property. They’ve been watching the home for six months now since Lorane’s passing, but they didn’t approach until Caroline’s return to Baxton. And her return signals a movement in the women, a call to action, and when they learn of Caroline’s pregnancy, they inch even closer, closing in like vultures around the sisters. But they’ll be patient; they’ll see to it that the child is born properly in their ceremony for The Mother. Â
(still working out the details of all this ;p but for now, I’m happy.)
“Baxton is different; the South is different. Things get forgotten here. Crimes disappear. People disappear.” She straightened her back and stared into his eyes, even and unwavering. “I won’t let you be one of them.”
Straitjacket Sisters | Caroline warning Nash about the dangers of the town. (via missvalerietanner)