GEORGE, ezra bianca

[EZRA BIANCA GEORGE]

EZRA BIANCA GEORGE

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I CAN’T HIDE THE MONSTER ANYMORE
ONE CAN, ONLY FEEL DESOLATE FOR SO LONG

FULL NAME: Ezra Bianca George
NICKNAMES: Ezzie, Biancé or Rosie.
AGE: twenty-two.
SEXUALITY: bi-sexual, though veering ever more obviously towards men.
MEMBER GROUP: student.
OCCUPATION: junior, German studies and Drama joint honors.

ONE STARTS TO CHANGE INTO
SOMETHING THE MIRROR DOESN’T RECOGNIZE

HAIR: Ezra’s hair is perfectly normal: corn blonde curls which are either left long and allowed to curl around his dainty jaw line or cut short – depending mostly on his mood and how close he is to scissors..
EYES: hazel.
HEIGHT: 5” 10.
SCARS: a long scar down the left of his face, leading to a large spider-web of scar tissue over his collar bone.
TATTOOS: none.
PIERCINGS: five on his right ear, two on the left.
PLAY BY: mathias lauridsen.

THE DARKNESS HAS BEEN BIDING ITS TIME
TO CLAIM ITS LATEST VICTIM, FRESH MEAT FOR CARNAL DESIRES

LIKES: chocolate buttons, small children, cooking overly ornate meals for one, spontaneous creativity, classical music, stout ales, brightly coloured clothes, acting, pretending to be a German just to shut people up, libraries, Polaroid photographs, snow, really early mornings, nerdy comic books, utterly pointless information, feeling wanted, the occasional understated display of concern.
DISLIKES: Indian food, the brown and bland nature of autumn, trying to eat with chop-sticks, horror movies, visiting the coast, thanksgiving, himself, mathematics, fast food, overly invasive questions, people watching him eat, rap music, his freckles, the way you can’t see the stars in big cities, people who slurp their drinks if given a straw, crowds, forced intimacy.
FEARS: hospitals, cars and buses, that his sister will wake up and blame him for how things ended.
SECRETS: the episode with the car-crash, his tense relations with his family, his panic attacks.
PERSONALITY:

Ezra is, in a word a mess. And the least approachable kid in New Orleans University. Which is a shame, because anyone who knew him four years ago would know just how happy-go-lucky a boy he was born to be. Four years ago Ezra was the opposite of what he has become: naïve, optimistic, social, bubbly, cheerful – almost perfect, personality wise. But these days the only chance you have to catch sight of that youthful excitement is to draw him into conversation over one of his passions – a discussion on the impact of Star Trek’s impact on the sci-fi genre, for example, will have him so engaged that you can watch him lose himself – watch the smile return to his face and the light to his eyes. The majority of the time however, trying start a conversation with Mr. George will earn you only a blank, derisive stare or an aggressive and offensive comment. It really isn’t out of a personal hatred of everyone but himself – quite the opposite in fact – but Ezra has simply never found a way to shut people out without being considered cold and offensive. Truth be told, he rather likes people – he simply expects them to absolutely detest him. And, thanks to his huge self-confidence issues, he has decided to handle this by cutting himself off from all human contact. As far as other students are concerned, Ezra George is a total bastard who can’t be bothered to give anyone the time of day… and is incredibly talented in his fields. Which, quite notably, he is. Ezra speaks German as if he were a native, and when you put him on a stage… the magic happens. Acting is the only real release Ezra has allowed himself, the only chance he has to slip out his self-loathing and be someone totally new. Each character he takes on has more depth and originality than he ever tries to give to himself.

There are reasons Ezra is a shell of what he used to be. One reason in particular. Since he caused his sister’s coma, Ezzie has been changed for the worse irrevocably. He hates himself more than anyone could ever express in words. He hates his constant cowardice more than anything: the way being anywhere near a hospital or a car has him caught in an anxiety attack, the way he is too frightened to go and see Annabelle is the hospital. The way he is afraid to apologize to his parents for the pain he caused because silent hostility is better than the loud sort – the way he secretly hopes Annie never wakes up because he knows she would hate him for what he did. And this crippling repulsion towards his own person is what drives him to push away everyone else. If anyone took the time to look a little bit beyond the angry, derisive shell, they’d find that Ezra is more pitiful than hateful. That he secretly hates being hated, and cares for people deeply. That secretly he cries alone every night and drinks himself to an uncomfortable sleep. That he is sad, and broken, and alone. And frightened. He longs to be wanted, and to have someone to hold his hand when he curls up and sobs – but he is convinced that looking for that person can only end in rejection and even more pain. And pain is something he simply can’t handle any more of. He thinks –dreams- constantly of stepping out of his self-imposed prison and fixing things with his parents, reaching out for a friend. Sometimes he even gets close enough to reach out and tap someone on the shoulder… but then his eyes meet theirs, and the defenses are back up. The only things that roll out of his mouth are aggressive, angry, hurtful things. He wants to make things better, but he can’t. He’s forgotten how to be strong.

TO BECOME WHAT I BECOME
I VIEWED THE SUN FOR THE VERY LAST TIME

MOTHER: Juliet George, fifty-one, doctor.
FATHER: Michael George, fifty-three, lawyer.
SIBLINGS:Annabelle George, twenty-five, comatose for three years and counting.
OTHER IMPORTANT PEOPLE: None.
ORIGIN: Denver.
HISTORY:

Parented by a wealthy couple, Ezra was always bound to get the best life could offer. The best education, the best clothes, the newest gadgets. He was also bound to spend the least time with his workaholic parents, and the most with his horribly clichéd French nanny. As a child, he wanted for nothing except his parent’s attention – and placed little value on that anyway. He was blonde, cheerful and popular, always excited about something. Adorable was the only word that could really be used to describe him succinctly. As he grew older, he remained the same happy-go-lucky scamp he had been since birth, charming girls every which way with his innocent face. He was never in any real trouble at school, was a kind and compassionate friend to anyone who asked, and was well loved by everyone he knew. But, like all blandly cheerful lives, his was bound to go wrong somewhere. There had never been any real pressure on Ezra to do well in his studies – after all, it was simply assumes that he would be a genius like his parents – but there had always been pressure on Ezra to… well, to like girls. And, as he grew into a hormonal teen, Ezra found that he was also drawn to… the home team, as it were. He admitted this fact to his father, and suddenly nothing he did was good enough. Ezra had gone from the golden boy to a sick freak as far as his father was concerned, and the man constantly picked at the boy for his poor grades, his lack of talent, his latent homosexuality. And things only got worse. Annabelle, Ezra’s sister, passed her finals with flying colors – and suddenly Ezra was expected to do the same, despite the fact that he had absolutely no grasp of mathematics of sciences. The pressure pushed him to something he had never before considered: the use f drugs. The only way he could see of getting the grades was to revise rather than sleep – and cocaine became the perfect way to push sleep out of the picture. It seemed to be working fine, until Annabelle confronted him one night, told him that she knew what he was doing, and that he should stop. Ezra refused to listen, storming off, jumping into the car and intending to drive away. Annabelle followed him, jumping into the passenger seat as he started the engine, and told him to stop the car and at least let her drive. Told him that she would take him where ever he wanted to go, just so long as he didn’t drive whilst high. And he ignored her, pushed his foot down on the accelerator.

And he crashed.

A tree branch sliced his face and shattered his collar bone when it came through the windscreen, but it left no lasting damage. Another struck Annabelle full in the face. Her pretty features were mangled and her brain irrevocably damaged. She has been comatose ever since. His parents found out about the cocaine, and it did nothing but give Ezra’s father another reason to hate his son. His mother managed to forgive him for what he had done to his sister, but she couldn’t forgive his refusal to visit Annie in the hospital. Ezra came off the drugs, but blamed himself entirely, cutting himself away from anything that was good. He never spoke to his parents again, and they didn’t speak to him – only sent the money for his living expenses to his bank every month, and sent him a card every thanksgiving. And he hasn’t moved on at all – if anything, he digs himself deeper into the past with every day that passes.

WILL YOU STILL HOLD ME
WHEN YOU SEE WHAT I HAVE DONE

ALIAS: Jeenie.
AGE: 17.
EXPERIENCE: about four years.
SAMPLE:

Mrs Sharon Wintersmith perched on top of her spinny teacher’s chair, and folded her long slender legs under herself, before reaching out and taking her tea and pushing at her desk to send herself spinning around on the chair. She smiled lightly at just how immature she was as she curled in on herself and sipped the tea delicately. Mmm… delicious. Most people seemed to drink coffee, but Sharon Wintersmith always preferred the sweet creamy taste of tea to the bitter flavour of strong coffee. Eventually the spinning of the black leather office chair slowed, and Sharon put down her now empty mug on her desk. She spun again, pouting childishly. Students were always late for detentions… She glanced at her wrist, and, with no watch to be found, turned her gaze to the clock at the other side of the room. Five minutes late already. She stopped her spinning abruptly and hunched over her desk, frowning at the piece of paper in front of her. Four students. Four students should be here, now. Well… she thought they should. She was pretty certain she had told them to come today, but she couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t actually made a note of the date when the students were to come to the detention, but she assumed it was today. She sat back and shrugged – either they would come or they wouldn’t. It made little difference to her.

Students usually seemed to complete the homework assignments set by Mrs Wintersmith. She could only guess that it was due to a combination of her teaching skills and the fact that a lot of her students seemed to assume that if they didn’t she might cry. The latter was caused both by her cute and childish appearance and her previous breakdowns in class – usually caused by a hurtful comment from a student. It was true that she was a happy-go-lucky woman, and generally much loved by her students, but that made it even more upsetting when they made cutting comments. She knew that crying was an over-reaction, but she’d always been pretty quick to tear up. But the reaction had proved that it had its plus points – since the first time she’d ended up crying in class she’d had the best record for getting homework in of all the teachers in Blackrink High. Until now. She glared at the list again. Four whole students hadn’t handed in their psychology essays. It was unheard of for her – admittedly there was usually one student who would conveniently ‘forget’ their deadline, but never more than two. Perhaps she’d been asking too much of them homework-wise recently?

But not to worry. It didn’t really matter too much. It wasn’t an important essay. She wasn’t ready to let a little thing like that ruin her day. She unfurled herself from the chair and bounded gracefully to her feet, tucking the tendrils of hair that had broken free from her childish plaits behind her ears. Another glance at the clock told her that the students were ten minutes late for their detentions. She smiled lightly – that simply meant that she could publicly embarrass them next lesson. She was a laid-back teacher, but knew that her job required her to be strict from time to time. The culprits couldn’t be allowed to go free after missing a deadline. Assuming that the students had in fact chosen not to come, Sharon skipped over to the big glass windows and flung one open, beaming as she looked out over the school grounds. Ye gods, she really did love her job. She pulled a cigarette from the pocket of her out-of-season denim shorts and a lighter from the pocket of her over-sized, paint-covered shirt before leaning out of the window and sparking up. She leant forwards until her feet left the floor, enjoying both the cigarette and the light breeze on her face.

A sudden knock on the door drew her back to reality. She swung back inside and hurried over to the door, tripping over her trash can on her way and sending empty cigarette cartons and crumpled papers spilling out across the floor. She swore lightly and flung open the door.
”Good Afternoon”.

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this app was made be dee. steal and a band of angry-ass vampire-robot-nazi’s will find you and go elizabeth bathory on your ass.

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[DEEDERS]