Post by emmaline on Dec 15, 2009 23:31:43 GMT -5
EMMALINE CAROL DAVIS! STOLE YOUR HEART;
They call me ZOE and I've shot for the moon SEVENTEEN times.
You know you all love me and you can contact me via ZOMBWAY@ROCKETMAIL.COM.
Ktxbi.
They call me ZOE and I've shot for the moon SEVENTEEN times.
You know you all love me and you can contact me via ZOMBWAY@ROCKETMAIL.COM.
Ktxbi.
» There Goes my Hero;
THe birth certificate reads Emmaline Carol Davis
But Everyone Calls Me Em, or Mal
Ive Been Breaking Hearts for 17 years
The say I Am Unsettled and unemployed
Ive Been Told I Look Like Brookelle Bones
» Rock and Roll, Baby.;
I am so tall 5' 2''
And I Weigh 119 lbs
Ive Bee Ninked And Pierced Belly-button and ears
They always say I look like Emmaline's physical appearance turns heads wherever she goes. Her thick black hair is often teased and styled to perfection - well, to her idea of perfection. Her grey eyes are always made up with black liner, and the best mascara money can buy. Foundation? Who needs it. Her skin is like porcelain - pale, and completely unblemished.
Her fashion sense? Well, that turns heads, too. Forget the usual dusty jeans and flannelette shirts often seen around stables. Emmaline prefers to dress in black skinny jeans, torn short shorts, and peasent white dresses. Not exactly appropriate to ride in, but she's still somewhat on the skittish side when it comes to getting in the saddle, so this isn't such an issue yet.
She is small - petite - and really quite attractive. She doesn't assume this about herself, and is bothered when boys play up on her physical appearence. She may look overly feminine and sweet, but she isn't - not one little bit.
This Is What Makes Me Stand Out Emmaline's one unique trait is the fact that she is who she is. She stands up for what she believes in, and will never back down, even if she happens to be wrong.
» Chances Taken, Hope Embraced;
I Adore Horses, reading, writing, the internet, texting, cooking, peace and quiet, and having a good conversation.
I Abhor Being told what to do, rude people, and hot weather.
I Rock Intelligence, compassion, and good humour.
I Suck Impatient, obnoxious, bossy, and sometimes too opinionated.
I Do Bites her nails, pulls faces, chews with her mouth open.
I Want To try and get her life back on track.
I Fear Heights, the dark, clowns.
I Shut up Nothing - she's open about everything.
I am Emmaline Davis is a tough young girl from the wrong side of the tracks and she is not always easy to like. She is loud, obnoxious, and outspoken. She will voice her opinion, whether it has been asked for or not. She will throw her two-cents worth into any conversation or discussion, no matter who it involves, and even if it does not involve herself. She is used to a social and rebellious lifestyle, with a good (and usually illegal) party, and a few (definitely illegal) drinks. She's a bad influence, and the girl your mother warned you about.
But she also has a softer side, and if she gives friendship and loyalty, she gives them for good, and will form an enduring bond. She will gladly lend an ear for hours on end if someone has a problem, or just wants to talk. She will offer advice, and help in any way she can. Although she's not a huge fan of drama, and tries to avoid it, she will always be right there for anyone who needs help, or just a shoulder to cry on. She's protective of those she's close to, and is not afraid to kick someone's ass if they hurt her loved ones. She will welcome anyone into her life with welcome arms, but will keep her guard up until she is completely sure of them.
Very few people know Emmaline, even if they think they do. Contrary to the popular belief, she is actually extremely smart, and crouched behind her bunker of intelligence, overachievement and risk-taking is a furious, wounded child who goes after dragons everyone else fears. She is terrified of abandonment, imagined or not, and always does the rejecting first. She has never been in love, or had a serious relationship at any stage, and has a complete disreguard for any possible role model in her life. People tend to judge her too quickly, or just by her appearnce, and instantly write her off, which angers her further, and pushes her further from society's acceptable grasp.
» I Know I Won't Be Home At All;
I Came From Her parents died when she was an infant. She was raised by her aunt and uncle - Christine and Barry - both whom are high school teachers.
I Share My Dna With None
I Come From New York City
But I Live Here Now West Virginia
This Is Who I was Emmaline was born and bred in New York City. When she was six months old, her parents - Tanya and David - perished in a car crash, leaving her to be raised by her father's sister and her husband - Christine and Barry. They'd been unable to have children of their own, and were than happy to raise orphaned Emmaline. They were a happily wealthy couple, and Emmaline had a content childhood, excelling through preschool, and then through primary school, reaching the highest grades possible. She received mostly everything she wanted in every sense - from toys, to furniture, jumping castles, video games, and then - at the age of nine - horse riding lessons at a local stable.
From the very first time she mounted a horse, Emmaline felt at home. She felt at one with such a beautiful creature. After just six weeks of riding, her once-weekly lessons increased to four times a week. She was a natural talent, and her riding instructor noticed this, and encouraged her. After eight months of riding, Emmaline began intermediate lessons, and began jumping. She excelled at this, too. Anyone and everyone who saw her ride laid bets she would eventually make it to the top - even the Olympics.
At the age of twelve, Emmaline asked her aunt and uncle for a horse of her own. They refused, telling her she had reached an age where she had to begin to earn her keep, and would no longer have everything handed to her on a silver platter. At first, she was angered, then realised they were possibly right. She decided she would be a better niece, and take on more responsiblity, and show them that she would be able to take care of a horse, and that she deserved one. She began attending riding lessons five days a week, and stayed behind hours after her weekday lessons to help out around the stables. She exercised and groomed other horses, cleaned tack, mixed bran mashes, and even gave lessons to the much younger kids. She did all this on Saturday, too. Sunday was her only day off.
For her fourteenth birthday, Emmaline's aunt and uncle bought her her much awaited horse. A gorgeous bay Arabian gelding, with a wide white blaze, and four perfect stockings, named Ace. Emmaline was estatic. She rode him everday, and took the best possible care of him. After owning Ace for several months, Emmaline was riding by the road side when a semi-trailer blasted its horn, spooking Ace. He bucked and reared, frightened. Emmaline was thrown onto the road, and hit by an oncoming car. She fractured her collarbone, two ribs, and her pelvis. It took her months and months to heal, during which her time, she had her aunt and uncle sell Ace. She was done with horses. When she was recovered, Emmaline hit the rails, and began partying. She started drinking, doing drugs, and having sex with any random guy she could find. This went on for some time, until she realised she was throwing her life away. She toned it down, but still continued her illegal activities. Her home life had fallen apart. Her aunt and uncle realised they had to do something, so they bought her a one-way ticket to West Virginia, to begin riding again at Pinewood Stables, and get her life back on track.
» This Heart It Beats;
I Lust Straight
I Love Boys who will give her their attention, 100%.
I Loathe Liars and cheats
Maybe I loved Never been in love, or a serious relationship
Maybe I Didnt N/A
» This Is How We'll Dance;
I Bow Down dude
I Am Awesome Where on earth am I going?
Forty-seventh Street and Tenth Avenue – that’s what the lady on the phone told her. The building has a big sign with a cross on it, she said kindly. We’ll be looking out for you.
She hung up the pay phone and hoisted her book bag. She was seventeen years old, it was ten-thirty on a windy November night, and she was somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen. She’d been marching uptown since Washington Square Park, not knowing where she was going, her hands swollen and tingly from swinging furiously at her sides, her book bag denting her hip with each step.
Yo, where you goin’, miss? I could walk with you?
No, papi. She was walking alone tonight. She was going to a shelter, which was on Forty-seventh and Tenth, and she wasn’t stopping for anybody – not the hustlers hawking nickel bags, not the Italian homeboys in their tricked-out IROC catcalling her. Not even a break in stride for the two boys passing her, shoving each other and laughing, then yelling, Hey, miss, you dropped something!
Hey, miss!
Pssssst. Over here, girl.
She was on a bad block, a gauntlet of drunks, hookers, and bums, leading nowhere. She’d been walking quickly, but now she started really hoofing it, still trying not to out and out run, red-eyed men hissing at her from every shadow. She was almost at the address the lady had given her, but she didn’t see the building with the cross. Don’t panic, she thought, panicking, faint tears blurring her sight. Maybe it’s across the street.
Across the street was a rotting industrial plant. Catty-corner was a diner and a church. But right here was a building covered in scaffolding, and a man approaching her from a driveway, asking, Are you looking for someplace?
No, she said quickly, moving away. I’m fine.
You sure? Because this is a shelter here.
She stopped, took in the man’s blue windbreaker and badge. His face was impassive, but his hand was outstretched.
You need to come on in here tonight?
Thanks Isa for helping =]
