HENDRICKS, charity

[Charity Hendricks]

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� DEAD OR ALIVE �

CHARITY ROSE HENDRICKS

"Try not to solve all life's problems at once.. Learn to dread each day as it comes."

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]NAME � Charity Rose Hendricks
NICKNAME � Charity, Rose
AGE � 17
GENDER � Female
SEXUALITY � Straight
OCCUPATION � Maid
CLASS � Middle-Class
FACE CLAIM � Julianne Hough

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"Hand upon a deadman's gun, and you're looking down the sights,"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]APPEARANCE �

Though described as many things, Charity cant aptly be 'defined'. She has soft features, and is definitely the definition of American girl with her mid-back length blond hair, that when free collapses into micro-sized waves of luscious thickness. Her eyes are a shocking blue, often leaving people on the streets stunned by their electrifying, icy stare. Her complexion is fair as breakable porcelain, too, white as a dove's feathers. She's a petite 5'3 and weighs in just under 110 pounds, her curvaceous figure showing off every ounce. But Charity isn't as perfect as you'd assume. Her body is littered in scars, big and small, ripped and torn. Though none bleed now, it's evident they bled once before. To the blind eye they would appear self-inflicted, but those who know Charity-- the real Charity-- know the truth.

EYE COLOR � Eye-color here
HEIGHT � 5'3
WEIGHT � 110 lbs
BUILD � Petite, lithe, curvaceous
SCARS? � Yes, everywhere. Crisscrossing her back, stomach, legs, and arms, everywhere, and a half moon shaped scar on her right shoulder.
UNIQUE CHARACTERISTIC � Her complexion. Despite long, grueling work hours, Charity does not tan. She's white as a porcelain doll, and tends to stand out in the calloused crowd.

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"Your heart is worn, and the seams are torn,"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]PERSONALITY �

Charity is a multitude of things.. She's guarded, but protective. Loving, but withdrawn. She's everything and nothing at all, wrapped up in the same skin. Charity is a hard worker, and strives for everything she has. She's thankful for every ladle she obtains and every ounce of dough she's able to purchase. She works for everything she has-- and allows no one to tell her different. Go ahead, try and make her sit down. She'll sit down, alright(for eight seconds), and then be up again scrubbing dishes or dusting shelves. This brings us to our next point. Restless. Charity has had an extremely unsettling past, and when old memories start to stir, Charity is quick to busy herself with unrelated matters, such as cleaning, cooking, and just about anything else she can get her hands on. She hardly sits down to breathe, let alone eat and sleep. Despite her troubling history, Charity is very loving. Instead of putting a bitter taste in her mouth for life, her past experiences have humbled her. She's strong, and defiant and a little too brave for her own good(at least, she pretends to be). When it comes down to it, Charity is a solid companion. Intelligent, inquisitive, and incredibly intoxicating, the blonde haired pixie is undoubtedly a story waiting to unfold. An egg waiting to crack. A wound waiting to heal.

LIKES �

White Roses; Not only are they her middle name, but Charity loves roses. White ones, to be specific. She thinks they display a unique and stunningly beautiful purity and peace about them. Untouched by messy colors, white roses are pure, elegant, joyful flowers that can always lighten her day.

Darkness; Charity was raised in utter darkness. Cut off from the rest of the world, the girl grew accustomed to the constant shadow draped over her life. Now that she's free in the light, Charity sometimes aches for the quiet, deep security of a blanket of darkness.

Romance; This classic blue eyed maiden is a sucker for good ole fashioned romance. She would love to one day be swept off her feet in a romantic escape: preferably between her and a forbidden lover.

DISLIKES �

Knives; How do you think those scars got there? Let me tell you, they weren't from a plastic spoon.

Bright Light; To concrete our previous statement, Charity dislikes a ton of light, artificial or natural. She feels exposed and flashed to the world. When afraid or uncomfortable she tends to shut down(a lot).

Aggression; She finds men(or women) with an aggressive attitude totally not worth her time. If you're 'too good' for her, she won't waste her time on trying to be good enough.

WEAKNESSES �

Romance; Notice how we returned to romance? A rose handed over, a sweet name, a kiss on the lips-- Charity cannot help but swoon. Being romanced will probably be the death of her.

Children; Charity is the motherly type. She lacked a mother growing up, and now finds herself constantly playing with the toddlers around town, and not only does she like them, they like her too!

Jealousy; No female can admit to not having been jealous at one point, Charity's only problem is she's had no one to be jealous for. So if you come around-- be prepared to be protected.

STRENGTHS �

Prepared; Charity is extremely well thought out about her word choices. She doesn't speak before she thinks, she doesn't retaliate without choosing her comeback carefully. She's very thoughtful, and always planning what she says next.

Smart; Charity (semi) know how to defend herself. She's quick to react and even quicker to strike back. She's not afraid to fight for her house and home and this makes her five feet three inches of complete and total terror(not).

FEARS �

Knives, knives, knives; Did I mention knives? She disliked them earlier, and she fears them now. Knives tormented her from the time she could barley speak until the time she could escape from the hell-hole of her parent's cabin.

Bathtubs; Only Charity is happy to manage those pesky new things they call showers. They may be time consuming, and filling up the water a pain, but a lot of the knives torment took place while she leaned over a bathtub, and it ruined her.

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"And they've given you a reason to fight."

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]FAMILY � Mary-Ann Hutchins-Hendricks (Mother), David Hendricks(Father)
PETS � Matches; Nine year old, fifteen point one hand bay paint quarter horse gelding. XxXx
Carly; Ten month old female shetland sheepdog mix. X
HISTORY �

Knock, knock, knock! The little girl crouched on the corner of the bed, her knuckles white with the force in which she gripped the sheets. The knock rang again, sharp, clear, and horrifying. Her bottom lip trembled. At six years old, she was smart enough to know what was coming. The door creaked, the knob squeaked. She took a deep breath as the frame swung open and light exploded into the otherwise dark room. She'd grown fond of the dark, it's damp fingers wrapping around her like a security blanket. A small hand flew up to shield her eyes from the painful glow as the silhouette advanced toward her, closing the creaking wooden door once he'd come inside. Charity blinked several times, willing her eyes to adjust to the darkness from the blinding light.

She made out the figure as he approached her, and caught the noticeable glint of the silver blade in his hand. He held it above his head, as if he were going to plunge it into her, but the little one knew better. He wouldn't kill his toy. But it was still that immature mind that reacted in fear to the sweeping motion he made toward her. His swing halted centimeters from her shoulder. And he laughed. It was a gruesome sound. "Scared ya, didn't I, Doll?" He chuckled a vile, gruff noise. Indignantly, Charity shook her head. "My n-name is Charity." He only shook his head in disappointment at her comment.

With a sigh he hauled her off the bed in one swoop, a gesture she had loved so much just three years before-- before this nightmare began. He set her to the ground fluidly, with a sharp order to push her bed aside. The six year old frowned at him. "If I wasn't able to do it yesterday, why would I be able to do it today?" She spoke so correctly for such a young age. Of course, the days had melded together in this hell hole, and what she claimed was yesterday, was really eight days before. He shook his head again, and repeated the command. With a heavy sigh, Charity shoved her weight into the bed. It didn't budge. After taking forty eight seconds -she counted-, her father stepped in and pushed it aside with a flick of his wrist.

"Sit." He ordered. Charity sucked in a labored breath and gazed up at him in the darkness with wide blue eyes.. pleading blue eyes. "Charity Rose Hendricks, sit down."] He ordered, voice rising an octave. The young female sat without a sound, biting her tongue. He lowered to his knees before her and pulled out her arm. The blade appeared again, and a tear formed in young Charity's eye. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, scared, no, terrified. He angled the knife into the crease of her elbow, and applied a slight pressure. Nothing happened. Annoyance radiated in his eager gaze, and he pushed it down. Skin broke, and blood leaked from the prick, black in the darkness surrounding them. And Charity screamed.


Charity hasn't had the best upbringing. She was sheltered for most of her life, hidden in a room with no windows by a protective, slightly insane mother. Her father was worse. He had an obsession with knives, and cutting. However, he wouldn't dare cut himself. No, he cut everything else. Animals, plants, everyday objects. Not to forget his daughter. A lot went down where her rickety wooden bed was placed. He'd watch as she shoved the bed to the side, as he asked, and direct her to sit in the middle of the dusty floor where her bed had previously been. Then with a dangerous precision, he'd cut. Her arms, her stomach, her back, her legs. Any visible piece of skin was marred with blood and scars. She'd cry, she'd scream, but a simple twitch of a muscle could be fatal.
When it wasn't beneath her bed, it was over the bathtub, another place which she grew to fear because of the memories it brought back. This went on for many years, from age four until she was sixteen. Her oblivious mother hardly ever visited, let alone checked her daughters well being. At sixteen, Charity fled from the confines of her windowless room and rushed into life. Now, one lonesome year after escaping her own personal hell, Charity is trying to leave the past behind, despite the scars looming as constant reminders.

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"And you're not going to take what they've got to give,"

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Vetoed biotch!

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"And you're not going to let them take your will to live"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]IF FOUND, PLEASE NOTIFY BAILEY IMMEDIATELY. THEY HAVE BEEN SEARCHING 16 YEARS FOR THIS INDIVIDUAL. PLEASE MEET AT THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE, AND RECITE "YES I WOULD OM YOUR NOM" IN ORDER TO RECEIVE YOUR REWARD.

this table was created by grey, and is to be used nowhere else.

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[GREYtheFLAILER]

ACCEPTED
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