[s]Name: Charlotte “Char” Baker

Age: Eleven

Profession: Student

Bio:
All Charlotte remembers is foster homes, orphanages and alleyways. Abandoned at birth, she was raised in an orphanage by a rather mean lady who shouldn’t have been working there. Her childhood wasn’t a pleasant one, and as soon as she was able to go to school, she left the horrid place. She lived on the streets for three years, attending school and although her marks were nothing close to stellar, she scraped by. She spent each night scrounging for food and doing homework at the local library, often not completing her homework anyways.


After years of living on the streets, she decided to return to the orphanage, which to her surprise had changed owners and the new lady in charge was much nicer. Charlotte’s school grades went up and she was able to get three good meals a day, rather than one not so great one. The day came where prospective couples came in to adopt, and Charlotte began a new chapter in her life.

The first couple was alright. They taught her how to cook, how to sew and her adopted father, being a police officer, taught her how to shoot. Christmas came and went, and the couple had spoiled her. New clothes, new shoes and a pair of boots, along with a teddy bear and three months worth of guitar lessons. Life was good, at least for a while.

One night, the husband and wife had gotten into an argument. Charlotte came out of her room to see her adopted father slap his wife. Charlotte had never ran so fast in her life. She grabbed a hoodie and stuffed a few shirts into her bag, along with the teddy bear. She waited until they had both left the kitchen, before running in and grabbing a few cans of soda, a box of crackers and a hunting knife that her father had stashed in the drawer. She turned to run out the door, speeding by her adoptive mother, almost knocking her over. She left and never turned back, living on the streets and hunkering down in alleyways at night, knife clutched in her hand.

Inventory:

[url=http://meviocoupons.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/timbuk2-messenger-bags.jpg]Messenger Bag[/url]: A bag she saved up for for half her life. Still in very good condition as she takes very good care of it. Made of durable fabric with one main pouch and a few smaller ones.
 - Cans of assorted pop x 5
 - A box of crackers, half eaten
 - A few bucks in change
 - Disposable water bottle x 2
 - Running shoes
 - A roll of duct tape
 - A spare hoodie
 - A red ballcap

Firearms/Weapons:
Primary: N/A
Secondary: N/A
Melee: Hunting Knife

Sample Post:


[hider=Charlotte the Zombie Slayer]
“That’ll be three dollars, eighteen cents dear.”

A candy bar and pre-made sandwich lay on the counter, the slight jingle of coins resonating across the convenience store as Charlotte reached into her pocket, placing exact change onto the counter, not saying a word. As she grabbed her items, placing them into her bag, the cashier looked at her “Where are your parents dear? Surely you aren’t here alone.” her accent wasn’t normal for this area, a hint of spanish in it, or at least Charlotte thought it was spanish.

“What should I say?” she thought, her mind racing through possible outcomes for everything she could think to say “...They’re out in the car, across the street.” she replied, before promptly walking off, hoping she wouldn’t stop her. Her mind was racing. She had been on her own for...was it three years now? No one had asked her about her parents, not once. “What happens if-- no. Charlotte, cool it. You’re fine. Put your hand out and open the door.” she thought. The little bell above the door jingled as she left the store. Her stomach growled, but she had to conserve her food, she knew that much.

She was soon crossing the street into Grand Central Park, not exactly sure where she was going now, but she needed to do something. Doing nothing drove her nuts, like laying in bed, listening to the dripping of a faucet left on, urging yourself to turn it off but not wanting to leave at the same time. She strolled through the park and sat down on a bench to enjoy her favorite activity. People watching. She placed her bag down beside her, looking around. In the field there were a few guys, grade ten or eleven she guessed, tossing a football. To the left of them, a couple having a picnic. “Probably on a date.” she guessed to herself. She looked to the right of the field. An ice cream vendor rode around on his bike, a quiet happy tune played as if to capture people’s attention and control them, much like a snake charmer and his pipe.

She heard a scream, quickly spinning around. A man, completely naked, had tackled a young boy who was struggling under the weight. Was that-- no. “He couldn’t possibly be...oh my god…” she whispered to herself. The man was, just like the news reporter had said, gnawing on the boy’s face, who had now fallen silent. “...What did they call this…..bath salts..?” she said, half in disbelief. She looked around, most people had fled the scene, but a few still lingered probably wondering what was going on. Charlotte grabbed her knife holding it in a shaky hand, then began to run at the...whatever that thing was.

****

“Charlotte, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw.”

The police station was chaos. Only an hour later and people were acting like it was the end of the world. Charlotte just stared at the table in disbelief, her brown eyes unwavering. A few droplets of blood were sprayed across her face and shirt from the encounter before the police had arrived. They had taken her into custody as she had no legal guardian.

“Charlotte dear, anything you know may be able to help the situation.”

News reporters could be heard outside the station as they squabbled like seagulls on french fries, trying to get comments from anyone involved. Charlotte just covered her ears, trying to drown out the world, trying to feel safe. She was terrified. What had she done….had she killed someone? Would it be considered murder if he wasn’t human in the first place? All these questions, she felt like her head was going to explode.

“I killed it!” she practically screamed. The whole station went quiet, turning towards Charlotte. “I killed it because it was attacking a little boy….no one was doing anything.” She hides her head again, tears now streaming down her face. Her heart pounded. She hated being the center of attention, hated the crowds, the noise.

“I wanna go home.”
[/hider][/s]