𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐒, ꜱʙɢ

Dominique Gaida - Origin

After Dominique's mother died, she never did anything fun.

She never took care of herself choosing her own company over that of others. Her mother was her only true friend.

She lost her passion for wielding weaponry, she dropped all her boxing classes and stayed in her room for unnatural hours, only coming out to use the bathroom and grab an occasional bite to eat.

Her mother, like her, had natural beautiful blond hair, with wavy curls and furling just below her waist. She carried the same red eyes, too. Minus the flakes of gold scattered through them.

That was thanks to her dad.

Dominique was 11 when her mother died, beaten to death by her father. Its was a horrific sight that little Dominique watched with frozen eyes from the top of the stairs. 

At one point when Dominique watched her father hurl her mothers body of the ground and pin her against the wall by her throat, she had ran down the stairs, tripping over her feet and beating her tiny fists into his back, screaming at him to let her mama go.

That's how she had gotten her most prominent scar. It was a jagged cut running down her back, running over her spine and ending just below her waist. It was thin, and dark. She hated that scar.

Her father had flung her tiny body from his, sending her tumbling into a bar cart and slashing her back on her way down over some smashed glassware.

As she got older, it reminded her of her uselessness in her mother's death, plaguing her mind with 'what if?'s. Maybe if she had been faster, or was stronger than what she had been, she wouldn't visit her mother's grave on her birthday every year.

But, Dominique's father had ties to the police force. She didn't know how, but she did know that they were his friends that were just as sleazy as he was. He had used his connections to orchestrate the scene of her mother's passing as a freak accident, using her past mental heath episodes against her and illustrating the illusion that she had killed herself in a manic state.

After that night, Dominique was never the same.

She lost her usual happy-go-lucky persona and cut ties with all her old friends. By the time she was 13, she was renowned around the school as an outcast.

She lost her pigtails, switching them with layers and choppy bangs, ditching her pretty pink hair clips and replacing them for studs in her ears.

Her mind was plagued by nightmares that never seemed to leave, and she turned unorthodox methods to ease the pain on her mind. Anything she could get her hands on; drinking, smoking, self harm, sex. Whatever distracted her from her reality.

She picked up some friends along the way, she guess'. Like Dean; who had taken care of her when she was too drunk to get home herself.

Her father never seemed to care. Most of her childhood he was out drinking at a bar or beating the shit out of herself and her mother, anyway.

In reality, Dominique's mother could have easily put an end to Dom's father's lifetime. She was far more experienced in combat and weaponry to loose to a drunken slob like himself. But deep down, the woman was so lost in her own head that she couldn't tell right from wrong.

In her mind, her husband's beatings on herself and Dominique was his way of toughening them up, and showing his love for them as a speciality.

From the bottom of her heart, Dominique's mother thought her husband loved her.

Dominique could never really forgive her mother for never getting themselves out of their situation. But, she knew she couldn't blame her. After all, they had nowhere to go.

But, she would never forgive her mother for leaving her behind in her father's grasp. Little eleven year old Dom saw the light fade form her mothers eyes, she saw the small smile she gave Dom before her body went numb.

'Forgive me' She seemed to ask her daughter, not than Dom could ever understand that at her age.

From that day forward, a bitterness seemed to seep its way into Dominique's heart. Slowly, she began to resent her mother in a twisted, cruel way. That she had been lucky enough to pull herself from the grasp her husband curled around her.

She would never forgive her mother for leaving her behind.

So, she kept to herself.

She dyed her hair, washing away her mother's features from her scalp and replacing them with her own. She knew she would never be able to rid herself of her mother's eyes, so she grew to ignore them.

She was smart enough, and the area she was in didn't have enough opportunities for kids of high IQ, so she applied for a scholarship to a new high school, which had accepted her with open arms, excited to have a new student for the first time in a while. She changed her personality, got tattoos done and pierced her ears.

When she bought up changing schools with her father, it seemed to be one of the only times he was sober enough to acknowledge her achievements, giving her a nod and muttering under his breath that he was glad he didn't have to pay for her useless education anymore.

Mostly, she stayed by herself. She kept quiet most of the time, but she stood out in her new school, enough for others to take notice.

She had dyed hair, different coloured eyes, piercings and tattoos, something that wasn't very common around a small town in Georgia.

She became somewhat popular, but never obtained any real friends for herself. She was tossed around like a shiny new toy between her peers, not that she cared.

That was, until a certain trip to Savannah.

And now, as her eyes fluttered closed and her lips rose into a small smile, her heart fading in her ears and blood trickling form her lips, she considered herself lucky. She felt no pain, she felt her body release it tension, getting lighter off her shoulders as she welcomed deaths embrace with warm arms.

Maybe, she would finally escape from her father's clutches, maybe she would finally reunite with her mother in whatever resided after death.

She considered herself lucky to have grown so close to her friends. She knew they would be disappointed in her, but they would be able to take care of themselves.

In the end, she lived how she had wanted to. She had herself from the beginning, and if her mother would see her now, Dom hoped she would be proud.

fin.
1128 words