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Jenny Grew Up Wild Like a Backwoods Daisy.
You grew up on a large estate, the third child and first daughter of the Caretaker of the Estate. You helped where you could and learned your school the best you could. Your father was the son of japanese immigrants who had taken up the job of groundskeeping. He loved the work.You mother met him at school and fell in love. You fall in the middle of a sprawl of six children. Growing up, you played with the Lady of the Manor’s son. You were sure to never be seen by her because she was crazy, you were sure. When your Hogwarts letter arrived, you couldn’t imagine anything better than learning all about magic. You found yourself draped in Yellow and Black; a badger. Following two brilliant Ravenclaws, you couldn’t help but feel like the disappointment. Your grades were good enough but you lacked the drive to seek anything. You graduated Hogwarts like you entered this world. In the middle of your class. Not the best but also not the worst.
He Looks Like a Tall Drink of Water.
He came in like an angel, suave blonde hair and sexy blue eyes. He whispered thing in your ear that no other had and you wanted him. Looking back, you wish you had been a Gryffindor because maybe a Gryffindor would have seen the signs. But who are you kidding? If you had been in Gryffindor, you would have been the coward. No. You never saw the signs. You just saw a man interested in you. He wasn’t magical, but to you, he was pure magic. It started out small, with pretty gifts and dinners out and grew to weekends in Aruba, Paris, and Venice. New dresses and jewelry came like water from the tap. In just six months, you floated down the aisle dressed in white. Your family and his friends and family filled the room. Your parents were far less than thrilled to see you marry a muggle and lock away your wand. They didn’t stop you, though you often wish they would have. Your name was too complicated. Teuila Maiko Himura. Even Teuila Maiko Hansen wouldn’t look as nice on the stationary. And so he encouraged you to take an English name. And so you abandoned your name. All of them. You became Scarlet Taya Hansen. Even though it had been your exotic looks that had drawn him it, he had balked at your very name. You should have known.
You stole my happy, you made me cry.
He took you on a year long honeymoon. With little time to write and no magic, you lost contact with your family and what few friends you had. Upon your return, he never offered any ways for you to see your family and you let it go, determined to ask another day. Months passed with you attending fancy dinners and parties. You felt prettier than you had in your entire life, dripping in diamonds and sipping champagne with the wealthy. Everyone thought you had it all: the looks, the money, and the man. But they didn’t see him getting drunk. They didn’t see what happened at home. It started like your relationship. Small things. Verbal things. Unused to such abuse, you wondered if it was normal. Your mother would know, so you told him you wanted to go to Glasgow to see your family. The back of his hand caught your cheek below your eye. You cover what you can with makeup and what you can’t with dark sunglasses. You backed down and buried yourself in other things that interested you. Matthew lacked the knowledge of investing the money his family’s company made. At 31, he simply put it in the bank or used it. You began studying investing and taking risks. Slowly, your investments turned a profit. Matthew, of course, knew nothing of this. You practiced the art of persuasion. You practiced the art of fashion, make up, and allurement. You learned to lie and fake your way through public engagements. You grew harder with every strike of his hand, with every abuse and assault.
Twenty one brought new changes. Your belly slowly swelled. Flutters turned to nudges. Nudges turned to kicks and you were having a little girl. She would be your reward for this hell of a marriage. She would be your little angel born of the Devil. Until she wasn’t. Until you lay on the floor, bruised and retching out your life. Then the bleeding and the pain and the contractions started. You gave birth to a dead child. Broken, you sank into this hell you called home.
Found it over in the corner, wadded up on the bedroom floor.
The last straw came in bits and pieces. The lipstick on his collar in a shade you would never buy. The perfume that smelled about 40 pounds too cheap for the taste you’d developed. The red wine stain when you only drink white. It wasn’t enough that he had you completely. He needed a side piece. He needed a whore, as if what he did to you wasn’t enough.
He hit a woman for the very last time.
You remember all the things you learned in Herbology. It was one of your favorite subjects. Your father had taught you so much about plants that you just took to it. You weren’t the best with tests but you still remember the plants they told you not to touch. They told you about the remedies too, though you have no need for those at this point. He didn’t take much convincing to start drinking that whiskey but it was the final cup that held aconite. Even in the muggle world wolf’s bane is a deadly plant well known by scientists. But why do an autopsy when the cause of death was so obvious. He had been an alcoholic, his collection testified to this. And drinking almost an entire bottle of whiskey? It was enough to kill a man. You’d been taking sleeping pills to help you fall asleep at night, your doctor knew this. So you were asleep before he even died and he was dead before you woke up. A frantic call to the hospital about not being able to find a pulse and trained professionals arrived. “Don’t leave me!” You cried over his body as they took him away.
They took turns laying a rose down; threw a hand full of dirt into the deep ground.
Silent tears slid down your cheeks as the service was held. Family and friends said kind thinks about the deceased but you couldn’t speak. They all assumed you couldn’t fathom your husband of three years being dead. They left you to mourn. They ignorantly assumed the tears were of grief, never realizing your tears fell because you had finally ascended from Hell. Finally, the sun felt warm on your skin.
Can’t hurt me now. Can’t feel the pain.
With no knowledge on how to run an oil company, you sold your share and invested the money, adding to the substantial you had already invested. You took enough money to live for a year and transfer it into galleons. You took up your wand once more and joined the world you had missed for the three years you’d been married. Renting an apartment in London, you begin your training as a healer(which you find rather ironic but it’s something you had been interested in during school). The program took two years but you have found you love to help people.
for extra app things
Birthday: February 27th
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