FORRESTER, Sloane A

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full name sloane alexis forrester date of birth 18.05.95 home town miami, florida current city meatpacking district, new york city education high school diploma occupation burlesque dancer ________________________________________ ________________________________________ ________________________________________ ________________________________________ Maggie Forrester had the biggest rosy lips, and longest eyelashes, which fluttered around her blue eyes. Her mousey brown hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and her blouse that was dotted in some sort of paisley pattern, hung loosely from her chest. At least, in the sole photo I had of her it did. The photo which I carried around in my Hello Kitty wallet till I was fourteen, until one day my sister Kaja took it and ripped it into pieces shouting, "she's not coming back". Which I knew she wasn't, she died when I was three. I can still remember the photo when I close my eyes and concentrate. Keith Forrester I remember more of. He had less charming facial features - big nose, pitted acne scars, and a patchy beard. He had boozy breath, constantly smelt of cheap Budweiser. And when he'd scream two inches away from my face, that sourness was all I could smell for hours. Social services took me away from him twice. Once when I was six, and the final time when I was ten. He never touched me, I think he really just wanted someone to yell at. He was a janitor, I guess it felt good to be dominant for once. And back then I didn't hate my dad. He was my safety blanket, I thought he was my only option. I wasn't far off either. When you enter the system, the older you get the less likely it is that you'll be adopted. Common sense. When I was six I had very little chance. At ten I had no chance. I was thrown into foster care. My foster family's choice of poison - blood of Christ. I'm trying to be funny, but it was seriously like that. The man was a pastor - Pastor Frank. Every wall in the house was covered in Jesus memorabilia. We sat for prayers every night - an event which lasted an hour. I slept under a crucifix, I blessed myself with holy water every time I entered the house.. god, it's no wonder we all went a bit nutty. It was like 7th Heaven.. every day. That's probably how it all started. Pastor Frank pushed us into a corner and it felt we had no other choice but to rebel.. or just wanted to act like complete shitheads Kaja behaving erratically and me - well, I think my lingerie obsession was seen as a bit erratic. K was good at hiding it when she wanted, and good at being caught when she wanted.. I don't think anything was an accident with her. I was the least bit sneaky, and the worst at lying, the rare times I did "break bad" I was always caught. Pastor Frank found a joint under my pillow and it was literally 7th Heaven. Kaja's always been my rock. An earthquake prone hunk of rock. We were bread and butter the moment we met. The worst possible role model in so many ways, but she was what I needed to break out of my shell. She pushed me from a meek little girl to an outspoken strong woman. Though she might get heat from the media, I have no ground to say anything bad about her. ________________________________________ ________________________________________ your name ciara play-by kristina r member group resident