The truth, the whole truth...
Oct. 27th, 2004 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripperI'm doing this for Angelo, 'cause I promised I would. I'm not doing it to get sympathy, or to play the "Who Had The Worst Childhood" game. I'm not even doing it for the safety of the mansion - whoever needs to know this for that reason already does. And it has nothing to do with Illyana, or any of the stuff that's gone on recently. We've been working on these for a little while, since the whole secrets thing first came up, and I'll swear by my name that that's the truth. That might not mean anything to anyone outside of the magical community, but to a magic user? That's the promise you can't break.
When I was two years old, my parents sold me to Rack for 250 pounds. I don't know who they are or where they come from, just that they knew enough about magic to recognise my potential and to make a profit from it. Rack waited until I was five to bring my mutation on, and then once a week for the next six years he would drain the magical energy out of me and use it for himself. I won't give you the gory details of the spell - Angelo and Manuel have seen it, and it wasn't pretty. Used to feel like he was pulling my heart out, every time. Rack also taught me magic along the way, both to increase the amount of power I could absorb and to tie me to him - black magic leaves its marks on you, and once you're down a certain path, it's bloody hard to get off.
I was eleven when Rack decided all that wasn't enough and he had to tie me to him a bit more permanently. Basically with a binding spell - the scars I have on my front and back are his doing, and they're the reason why for so long I covered up so much. I still do, mostly, since they're so bloody ugly. Rack didn't have the power on his own to do the full spell, so he did a deal with a demon. But being a demon, it turned on him and tried to take me for itself - that's where the scars on my legs come from. Rack stepped in to protect his investment, and that's when Romany got me out. She'd been part of Rack's coven for around two years at that stage, and that night we both got out.
Social Services stepped in at the hospital. Rom wasn't allowed to foster me because of her background and lifestyle, and I think she wanted me to have a shot at a normal life as well. There was nothing the doctors could do about the scars, since they're mystical in origin, and after about a month in hospital (and being shown off to every student social worker and doctor-in-training as a horror story in child abuse) I got placed with my first foster family. Went all right, too, for about three months. Then the magic built up, they caught me doing a spell, and freaked - they had two other kids of their own, you see, and were worried I was dangerous. It was then I got tested positive as a mutant, even though I couldn't really explain what my powers were, not to the doctor types. They thought I was delusional when I told them I could do magic. So I stopped telling them and said I was a telekinetic or something similar.
For the next three-ish years, that became the pattern: foster family, magic, back to the Children's Home, sometimes with a trip to the shrinks added in. Word got out that I was a problem placement, and the families got worse - the last one were scary religious types who wanted to exorcise the Devil from me. When the father wasn't touching me up in his garden shed, that is. I ran away a bunch of times over the years, couldn't make it stick until I was fourteen and a half. I lived on the streets of London for a bit, and then ended up in Brighton 'cause they're mutant friendly down there.
I could give you details of what I did to survive on the streets, how much for what, the best ways to shop lift, and so forth, but I don't think you need to hear that. Rom found me back in January of this year, when I was sixteen and the magic was getting harder to control - had been ever since the previous May and that headache from hell. She tried to place me with one of the magic communities in Europe, but my mutation makes me too much of a risk, either of someone trying to use me for themselves, or me getting too powerful, too quickly. So she sent me here. A lot of what came next you know. Some you don't.
It was Rack, back in April when Angelo and I ended up in Mexico. He came trying to reclaim his property, and made it clear that he'd hurt the people I care about if I didn't go to him. He got to me through a couple of things – the teleportation spell I used to try and rescue Illyana from Limbo, and a snivelling little weasel of a magic dealer called Patches. I thought I could take him, but I screwed it up; luckily Pete took care of things for me, and there's no way he'll ever be a problem again for anyone. There might be some outstanding warrants for me back in London, under another name I used to use for arrests, but I really doubt those would be a problem for anyone here. The addiction's mostly under control, and I generally hurt myself before anyone else with that. The book of nasty mind-altering spells is burned. And the amulet Strange and Rom made for me controls how much power I have, so no more portals to hell. There's no secrets, nothing to endanger the school or the people in it.
Since I've come here, I've made a lot of mistakes, fucked over a lot of people. Turning Jake into a frog. The love potion. Getting addicted to the magic, and what I did to any number of people who were trying to help me, or who just got in the way. Nearly taking a header off the roof at the worst of it. Using the magic to hurt Jubilee and Le Beau, even if it was technically self defence. Stuff I did, and stuff I didn't do. But there's good out of it too. For the first time in my life, I have friends, and people I consider family. I have two people who love me, regardless of what kind of trouble I get into. I have a chance to make something of myself here, and I'm trying to make the most of it. Fuck, when I first got here I could barely read and write, and now look at me, waffling on and on. *wry grin*
I'm not really sure how to end this - this is me, this is where I come from. I don't know yet whether I'm stronger than the shite I went through as a kid or not, but I didn't put this up here as a cry for help or validation or whatnot. I just wanted there to be no more secrets, between me and the place that's given me a chance. So, that's it, that's all she wrote.
I'll get out of your way now.
When I was two years old, my parents sold me to Rack for 250 pounds. I don't know who they are or where they come from, just that they knew enough about magic to recognise my potential and to make a profit from it. Rack waited until I was five to bring my mutation on, and then once a week for the next six years he would drain the magical energy out of me and use it for himself. I won't give you the gory details of the spell - Angelo and Manuel have seen it, and it wasn't pretty. Used to feel like he was pulling my heart out, every time. Rack also taught me magic along the way, both to increase the amount of power I could absorb and to tie me to him - black magic leaves its marks on you, and once you're down a certain path, it's bloody hard to get off.
I was eleven when Rack decided all that wasn't enough and he had to tie me to him a bit more permanently. Basically with a binding spell - the scars I have on my front and back are his doing, and they're the reason why for so long I covered up so much. I still do, mostly, since they're so bloody ugly. Rack didn't have the power on his own to do the full spell, so he did a deal with a demon. But being a demon, it turned on him and tried to take me for itself - that's where the scars on my legs come from. Rack stepped in to protect his investment, and that's when Romany got me out. She'd been part of Rack's coven for around two years at that stage, and that night we both got out.
Social Services stepped in at the hospital. Rom wasn't allowed to foster me because of her background and lifestyle, and I think she wanted me to have a shot at a normal life as well. There was nothing the doctors could do about the scars, since they're mystical in origin, and after about a month in hospital (and being shown off to every student social worker and doctor-in-training as a horror story in child abuse) I got placed with my first foster family. Went all right, too, for about three months. Then the magic built up, they caught me doing a spell, and freaked - they had two other kids of their own, you see, and were worried I was dangerous. It was then I got tested positive as a mutant, even though I couldn't really explain what my powers were, not to the doctor types. They thought I was delusional when I told them I could do magic. So I stopped telling them and said I was a telekinetic or something similar.
For the next three-ish years, that became the pattern: foster family, magic, back to the Children's Home, sometimes with a trip to the shrinks added in. Word got out that I was a problem placement, and the families got worse - the last one were scary religious types who wanted to exorcise the Devil from me. When the father wasn't touching me up in his garden shed, that is. I ran away a bunch of times over the years, couldn't make it stick until I was fourteen and a half. I lived on the streets of London for a bit, and then ended up in Brighton 'cause they're mutant friendly down there.
I could give you details of what I did to survive on the streets, how much for what, the best ways to shop lift, and so forth, but I don't think you need to hear that. Rom found me back in January of this year, when I was sixteen and the magic was getting harder to control - had been ever since the previous May and that headache from hell. She tried to place me with one of the magic communities in Europe, but my mutation makes me too much of a risk, either of someone trying to use me for themselves, or me getting too powerful, too quickly. So she sent me here. A lot of what came next you know. Some you don't.
It was Rack, back in April when Angelo and I ended up in Mexico. He came trying to reclaim his property, and made it clear that he'd hurt the people I care about if I didn't go to him. He got to me through a couple of things – the teleportation spell I used to try and rescue Illyana from Limbo, and a snivelling little weasel of a magic dealer called Patches. I thought I could take him, but I screwed it up; luckily Pete took care of things for me, and there's no way he'll ever be a problem again for anyone. There might be some outstanding warrants for me back in London, under another name I used to use for arrests, but I really doubt those would be a problem for anyone here. The addiction's mostly under control, and I generally hurt myself before anyone else with that. The book of nasty mind-altering spells is burned. And the amulet Strange and Rom made for me controls how much power I have, so no more portals to hell. There's no secrets, nothing to endanger the school or the people in it.
Since I've come here, I've made a lot of mistakes, fucked over a lot of people. Turning Jake into a frog. The love potion. Getting addicted to the magic, and what I did to any number of people who were trying to help me, or who just got in the way. Nearly taking a header off the roof at the worst of it. Using the magic to hurt Jubilee and Le Beau, even if it was technically self defence. Stuff I did, and stuff I didn't do. But there's good out of it too. For the first time in my life, I have friends, and people I consider family. I have two people who love me, regardless of what kind of trouble I get into. I have a chance to make something of myself here, and I'm trying to make the most of it. Fuck, when I first got here I could barely read and write, and now look at me, waffling on and on. *wry grin*
I'm not really sure how to end this - this is me, this is where I come from. I don't know yet whether I'm stronger than the shite I went through as a kid or not, but I didn't put this up here as a cry for help or validation or whatnot. I just wanted there to be no more secrets, between me and the place that's given me a chance. So, that's it, that's all she wrote.
I'll get out of your way now.
