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The Jaded Rose - Character Layouts

Emelia:

APPEARANCE

BACKGROUND

Iris:

APPEARANCE

BACKGROUND

"Iris!" he shouted. "Iris, get your ass over here!" His voice echoed in my ears. "God damnit Iris!", banging on the floor were his footsteps, closer and closer. I held my mothers head in my hands, the thick, crimson liquid spilling from her skull. "I called your name about a million times. Come watch the game with me Iris." he snarled. We locked eyes and before I knew it I was on my feet, my hair bunched up into his fist. "Oh look at you, you've got it all over you huh? Curiosity killed the cat ya' know." His eyes were wide as a smile crept onto his snarky face before his high pitched, craze ridden laugh filled the room. My body moves robotically as he drags me by my wrist to the living room. I sit and stare at a grey stain on the previously white wall, while he ingulfs himself in the TV screen.

I didn't watch it happen, but the various stains, screaming, and blood trails leading from my parent's bedroom to mine tell me all I need to know. A stabbing. A brutal, ugly, malicious stabbing. A low mumble pulls me out of my daze, I look over to him, he hates repeating himself so I prepare for the worst. "You should've just stayed in the playroom, Iris." he says with a smile so wide, it looks drawn on. He looks like an overjoyed cartoon character. He chuckles and looks at me, his eyes still wide as ever. His presence is eerie with his terrifyingly bouncy demeanor. Usually he's calm, so incredibly calm I worried that he was on downers or something. I get up, feeling my knees buckle under me. I feel my entire body shake as I make my way to the kitchen.

"Where are you off to, hm?" he doesn't look away from the screen as his voice grimly presents me with the question. "You want something to eat while you watch the game, right?" My voice is shaky and I can feel my throat starting to tighten as his head lowers, but his eyes stay glued to the screen. "You know me so well Iris." I take that as a yes and quickly head into the kitchen. My gaze immediatly focuses on the particularly sharp knife that sits on the counter, shining in the dim light, calling my name. I pick it up gently, slowly sliding it behind my back, careful not to make a sound. One step after another, I slowly go back to the living room, knife in hand. His eyes still focused on the screen, his smile still cartoon like. I step, and step, and step until I'm right behind him. "I forgot to ask, what did you want me to make?" my voice cracks at the end, but I swallow my fear and shakely pull the knife from behind my back. I raise it up and wait for his response. "Surprise me!" He cackles louder than ever before as I drive the knife striaght into his thick, crazed skull. As if the act of stabbing my father is instinct, I pull the knife swiftly from his brain and nail it in again, and again, and again. After my hands make their final effort to slam the sharp object into his head, my eyes slowly rise and meet the TV screen in front of me. Before I can help myself, a grim smile creeps onto my face. I yank the knife until it releases, dropping it to the floor, as my high-pitched, craze ridden laugh fills the room.