take these memories that are haunting me
gender: female
birthdate: five, april, 1993
age: sixteen
hometown: Emma Grove, Australia
heritage: Australian from the fathers side & Italian from the mothers side.

we've all been lost for most of this life
everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us
interests: being alone, colors,
disinterests: white shades
fears&nightmares: claustrophobia, metal bars, large bodies of water,
addictions:
detailed personality:
no matter the person, no matter the place, it seems that Aubree is paranoid. When she was dragged out of the hospital and taken to Lunar Academy she earned a case of extreme paranoia. Her past has left her ideas that everyone is after her just because she was once committed or that the police suggested that she had been selling her counter top drugs. When she is first introduced to a person she will stand on guard and suspicious, always preparing herself an opening to dissect the fact that they were spying on her. Truthfully, no one really is watching her in these such ways, but she wants to believe that they are. After a duration of time, she will eventually smooth over for a bit, though very protective of her past. Not a word will be heard out of her mouth about where she has been, or was supposed to go.

If Aubree was to be put under the influence of a drug-like substance, she would mostly open up and act like her older self. She is less paranoid, but still unlikely to talk about negative parts about her. Shes very confident and builds herself up to be the best person she thinks other people would want. Even when she is acting in a bubbly, friendly her shadows are hidden within her soul. Aubree has gone to extreme lengths to make sure that no one would figure out anything about her. She desperately does not want anyone to know anything.

boys+girls of every age, wouldn't you
like to see something strange
parents:
Genevieve hawthorne, lawyer.
Laurence hawthorne, doctor
siblings:
Charles gibson hawthorne, eighteen
significant other(s):
doctor sykes, Emma Grove Hospital
pets&animals: none.
detailed history:
The Hawthorne family was perfect. Seriously. Genevieve Hawthorne was the perfect lawyer with a well paying salary. Laurence Hawthorne was the perfect doctor, who on a daily basis could say, "the name of the guy i saved today was...". Together they had one perfect blond, blue eyed daughter named Aubree Lou, and one perfect blue eyed, blond boy named Charles Gibson. Together the two males, and two females lived on the perfect family block, where children could be seen playing on their front lawns, or out in the streets playing hockey. Everyone on the street was wealthy, content and friendly. The neighborhood or the families in general just appeared as the picture framed portrait that hangs in the minds of parents, who only wish that they were that stable.

Living in a comfortable way of life, the children found that it was easy to slip into the mainstream society that their parents had built themselves on. School was almost too easy, especially when the teachers were very personal with the learning style of each child. Most of the students got along just fine, and it was rare that there was even bullying carrying on within the school or neighborhood. It was the dreamland that everyone wanted. It was an oasis in a sea of wild sharks on land. Everything was too perfect to be true, everyday Aubree expected to wake up and find herself actually in the pits of hell because the wonderful illusion had finally broken. Unfortunately for Aubree, it seemed she was the only on in the town that was aware that this life was too dream like compared to the war she saw on television. She was a twelve year old stuck in a perfect society.

It was the first time that anyone in Emma Grove had ever had a student that did not excel around or above average. Every student was always in their 90 percentile, while there were the few in the 80 and then the "remedial" (or rather the 70 percentile) did not even exist. But once Aubree had turned thirteen, she found that she could not reach the expectation of the rules. Teachers looked at her differently like she was stupid, and students made fun of her constantly because she averaged only 78 percent.

Everyday was like being on the outside looking in. All the students were perfect, they all looked the same, acted the same and left Aubree feeling the same; depressed. Aubree started to adapt to the lonely ways by trying her best to stick out from the crowed. She liked to layer her eyes with make-up, and she cut her hair choppy. Although she knew that the students would not appreciate the look that Aubree had come accustomed to, she enjoyed the look that she pursued. When school started again in the fall the students were in awe of what Aubree had made of herself. At this point, people started acting more isolating to wards her. Comments like "emo" or "maybe she will take a break from herself and start cutting my lawn" were thrown behind her back or in her general direction. Because of her look they automatically thought of her as a target for the comments. Sex starved guys made suggestive comments to wards her thinking that because she looked dark and mysterious she'd be open minded to sexual and kinky offers. It seemed like there was no one person that would target her. Even at her own house, when she would sit in her room, she'd get eggs thrown at her window or rocks. She consistently had to clean her window, or put in a new one. Sometimes her brother's window also was hit by the items in accidents and Charles would rush into his sisters room asking her to dispose of the people that had just thrown the objects. He seemed careful with his sister, but as the objects were thrown more consistently to wards them he grew a little annoyed and miserable with the people himself.

It was the type of day that anticipated a happening; The type of happening where no one knows what is going to happen, but there is a feeling that something is going to happen. To a fourteen year old, this type of day started off boring, staring out the window in the living room, which looked out at the street. Boys were in the streets playing hockey, and other little kids were on the lawns or could be seen behind the fence jumping on a trampoline. Everyone was out there except for her. It was a gross feeling where you go through the phone book in your mind and realize there is not one person you could call. Your only good friend was out camping, your minor friends made you feel awkward when you hung out with them alone and then other people that you wouldn’t mind being with, you just did not have their number. The thoughts started to numb at her brain. She was thinking too much. No one wanted her. No one wanted anything to do with her. People secretly laughed at her when her back was turned. They were hurtful, constricting thoughts that sent a burst in her mind. Pop. And then it started the flood. Aubree had always been known for guessing thoughts that others could have, mostly because she was good at predicting a person. It was an annoying quality but it was straightforward and let her act as she thought was best. But this was ridiculous. It was like a thousand thoughts running through her mind, a thousand pleads of help. “I need to get this goal, I need to get this goal, fuck, that bastard stole the puck” was one of them which made her think of the hockey game on the street in front of her. She held her head, got up and went outside. But the moment she opened the door it was like the Hoover Dam had fallen on her. She closed her eyes, but inside her eyelids she could still see the streets, but with ghostly figures moving about. Suddenly she heard a screeching and finally, a crash. Her eyes opened, the voices stopped, but out on the street was a boy, stricken and bleeding. Aubree let out a death-defying scream, and finally she dropped to the floor, her head falling onto the cement with a crack.

------
Everywhere she went, she was in constant reminisce about what had happened. The screaming remained, a constant ringing in her head, along with some other voices that still would not leave. Every turn, every pace and every breath she took flooded her thoughts of the white room. When someone laughed, it reminded her of the hysteria. When she saw billboards associated with beautiful people, she remembered being in the hospital, then breaking her knuckles along with the mirrors; as did walking past a window, when she saw her transparent reflection.
Adapting back into the ‘real’ world was like walking against a river current. No matter how much she pumped her legs forward, there was something pushing her back. Because of the well known adaption issues, she was forced to see a therapist of some sort. She hated going. He was creepy, in her face and too personal. When she didn’t respond to some basic questions he would ask, he’d grunt, and by the end of the session he would have a list of prescriptions that he wanted her to give to her parents. In the beginning she just threw the paper into the garbage. Looking over the list, some of the names were just too familiar and she did not want to go through medication again. But after a while, he parents caught onto the game, and got the doctor-like-creep-man to directly give them the list of prescriptions. Most of the time the medication sat in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom, where she would just stand there staring at them. “Eat with food” most of them had stuck on. She hated those pills the most. Why did she not only have to take the pills, but she had to eat with them as well. She was usually able to avoid the pills claiming she just forgot to eat because she was so busy readjusting, but eventually she had to mix up her excuses. Sometimes she went out, to the park, telling her parents that she was going to a friend to eat dinner. These lies led her to something else. Something she never really thought about before, nor had ever really been brought up in her life.

Once, sitting at the park, she had the pills pulled out of her pocket and between her thumb and pointer finger. Her eyes were so embedded on the pills, even as they were shaken by her hand. That little clicking sound had captured her attention, or maybe it was just the pills in general. She contemplated actually taking the pills, or just burying them somewhere in the ground. That was what she usually did. She would take a pill out, and place it in the gravel somewhere. She was skeptical whether her parents snuck into her room and counted the amount of pills left in the capsule. What was the point of even taking these pills? What were they actually going to do to her? Where they anti-depressants? What were they, really? Questions about the pills have flooded her mind since she was first prescribed with them. She never actually asked someone what they were, mostly because she didn’t want them to know that she was even the slightest bit interested in the compacted powder. Suddenly she heard the voice of someone before her, though it sounded more like a “whamp, whamp, whamp”. In front of her was no one familiar. A complete stranger. “How much, lady?” She stared at him blankly for a moment. She blinked a few times before he spoke again “For the pills!” he exclaimed pointing down at them. She had to think about it for a while. Her. Selling her prescriptions. How would someone get a good high out of that? She shrugged. “How much you got.” From that point, she found herself a business. Sometime in the week she would show up around the same place with different prescriptions. She’d only sell three pills at a time, so that her parents wouldn’t notice how many were being taken. Since she had a tendency to hid the pills from her parents anyways, when there were a few extra missing from the bottle, her parents seemed to just smile as if she was taking good progress. Now, not only could she cheat her way out of taking the pills, but she was also earning money for it. Nothing could ruin the state she was in now. She knew she was doing wrong, but she also knew she was doing wrong in generally not talking her pills. Instead she just felt great about herself. With the smile that was usually plastered on her face, it also made her family happy. It seemed, to them, that they were getting a normal, functional and contented daughter again. Life was perfect in their household. At least for now.

One bright and sunny afternoon, Aubree was about to go take her usual walk to the park to see what she could sell to who. When she opened the door, she was met by two people. Two police officers. “Can we please speak to a Aubree Hawthorne please,” She was shocked and unsure of what to say. Should she lie and say that she was out right now and couldn’t take the unwanted message, or should she tell them that she was her. There was a moment of silence, and the police officers were looking annoyed. The fear had stricken her, “You are speaking to her.” She told them honestly. Both of the police officers shared a glance with each other and then looked back at Aubree. Then one of them moved forward, while the other one read her the rights she had learned in school. The fact that she had already learned the rights from a presentation at school frightened her a little. She knew how severe they could be and how real the situation actually was, even though she didn’t want it to be. Her mother started out of the house once she had heard the commotion. Aubree was already being guided to the side of the police car. Her face seemed a little shocked, and then she called out to the police and said, “She is not allowed to speak to anyone till I get there.” Before she went back into the house, she gave Aubree a questioning look, and then turned away. The cops opened the side door, and then pushed Aubree in. There was something more uncomfortable about sitting in the seat in the back of a cop car rather than in any vehicle. The bars that separated her from the officers made her feel vulnerable and like she was going to have an anxiety attack. The last time she had one of those, was right when she was put into the asylum. Both of the police officers collected themselves in the car, looking calm yet stern. This only scared Aubree even more so. The doors closed, and suddenly she started to feel like she was losing air. Slowly, her breaths started getting more shallow and wheezy until finally her breaths were long and gasping. She could barely hear the words of the offices, but ‘hospital’ was definitely one of them. She could feel the car accelerating and she her breaths were slightly more relaxed. But she did not let the officers know she was relaxed. If she went to the hospital, she wouldn’t be in a jail cell, and at the moment that was all she cared about.

When they got to the hospital each officer took a side of Aubree, holding her up to take her into the waiting room. Before they got into the doors, they were intercepted by some nurses. Aubree felt an odd feeling within her stomach. There was something about the coincidence of their arrival that kinda set her off. She started getting a little squirmy. This did not stop the nurses, the just took her from the officers noting that they were going to take it from there. It seemed that the officers were willing to drop off Aubree and leave for the moment, but then when they walked away, Aubree was sure she could hear one of them say "What do we do about the charges against selling prescriptions?" But the voice was lost once Aubree was brought into the hospital. The nurses layed her on a stretcher and rolled her down the halls. For most of the ride, Aubree let her eyes be closed. She started breathing deeply, like she was starting to hyperventilate. "Don't worry, we have you" One of the nurses said to her, but she was not convinced. Suddenly, she was rolled to a stop, when she opened her eyes, they met with a man that had a needle in hand. He did not look a thing like a doctor. Aubree immediately started to scream, "Get the fuck away from me! Get away! You aren't a doctor get a way from me mother fucker!" The nurses held her down, but she still flung herself about until finally she felt the pinch of the needle in her skin, where her muscles started to relax until she went into a state of sleep.

Pink. The room was painted pink. It was a nice pink. Not exactly a salmon pink, but not a girly icy pink either. It was just a fresh looking pink that made Aubree smile slightly. It took a moment but then she realized that the pink was completely unrecognizable. She flung herself forward, finding that she was laying on a bed. Her head swung about, searching. To the right of her was another person. A girl. "Who are you?" She stared at Aubree, looking bored, and then she spoke. "They said you might attack me or something, or at least be a little more spazzy when you first got up, prove them wrong," She first said, confusing Aubree entirely, "Come with me, the administrator will want to see you." Aubree looked at her disgusted like, where the same look was shared right back at her. Finally, the other girl got up, took Aubree's hand, and somewhat dragged her to the administration office. Once she was placed in a chair across from the 'administrator' the other girl left the room all huffy. Aubree recognized the man before her as the one that injected her with the needle. Her back arched against the chair, as if she was ready to pounce and attack. But before she had the chance, the administrator began to speak and explain.

At the moment, Aubree Hawthorne was on the grounds of Lunar Academy, the secret boarding school for students with special abilities. Apparently, Aubree had a power the was quite powerful and very dangerous for her health when it was mostly uncontrollable. Since, death was a very uncontrollable thing. She was "obligated" to join the classes in Lunar Academy. Mostly it was said it was for her own safety, but Aubree always thought there was something more. She always felt that there was someone watching her, waiting for her to make the wrong move and prove that she was nothing but guilty of some crime.