Name: ‘Delilah’ Id reads: Anne Smith
Age: 34
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Appearance:
Personality: It depends on which side of her personality people are conversing with. One half of her is quite warming and welcoming, very light hearted and kind spirited. Or at least that is what she gives off when not on the ‘hunt’. But her other side is a woman of dark desire; the thrill of murder excites her. Dubbed as ‘Delilah’ she loves not rampant and wild murder but the slow kill that requires thought and tact. The longer it takes and the more difficult the kill the higher the pleasure, Delilah likes to utilize her warming aesthetic to bring her targets close and then slides in the blade into their bodies.
Specialty: Subterfuge and Charming murderess
Affiliation: No one
Background:
It was a summer afternoon. I looked out the window; my little hand touched the glass. The world seemed so big and so did the dirt cloud that flew in the air as my mother drove away. It was Sunday, the day of our Lord but that did not stop business from taking my mother. My father placed his hand on my shoulder. I was scared.
“It will be alright, she will be home in a few hours. In mean time we can have some fun!” I stepped to the right to avoid his hand but he became more forceful in his touch. Rubbing my head, playing with each strand.
Why must daddy hurt me? I would always ask myself, I could never figure it out back then. At least, not alone.
“Daddy, may I use the restroom first?” I asked politely looking into his eyes.
“Of course sweetheart, just come back here when you’re done!” his hands grabbed my cheeks. My insides shuddered. I was only 8 years old but I knew what he wanted to do to me. It always happened on Sundays.
I was at a breaking point, I knew he was going to take me to the field again. He was going to tie me to the chair again. I couldn’t do it.
“Kill him” a voice in my mind?
Walking away from him I felt followed.
“He had his fun, now have yours” it was my voice, but I did not speak. Would he stop hurting me? “Yes, go the kitchen” I followed the voices orders. “Grab a knife” a pulled a cabinet open and pulled one out as asked. I was not sure why I was so willing to follow her commands. Why do I need this? She never responded. “Place it in your underwear”
The cold metal touched her lower back and was held by the elastic band.
“Shall we go to the field Anne?” A smile was on his face.
I looked down… “Please don’t take me”
I felt myself being picked up, I’m over his shoulder. Let him take you, I laid limp . What was I doing?
With the creaking wooden door opened he stepped out , I watched his long legs trod over the dirt path below him. My body continued to smack against his with each step, one of his hands was on my behind firmly as he held me, the other across the back of my knees. Why was everything out of my control?
After an unknown amount of time I was at the destination. He placed me down, one of his hands was to his pelvis, he moved his hand in a weird fashion. It always started this way but I never knew why. His other hand held mine tightly as we walked to the chair. In the middle of the field was a simple wooden chair with rope, he liked to call it my ‘throne’.
“Sit here for Daddy” his voice a false hope. A sweetness that I knew was not true. I stood there for a moment, looking at the chair. In my hesitation I was picked up again and was being moved to the chair.
“PLEASE NO! PLEASE!” I pleaded I cried I slammed my hands against his back. He did not stop. The voice that once guided me was now silent. I was placed on the chair, he looked up to me, anger was on his face.
“You DO NOT hit daddy” he smirked “Now I’m going to have to punish you as well. Why didn’t you just let us have fun Anne?”
“Stab him” it was the voice, my hand was moving on its own. It reached up my skirt and to the knife. The hilt was in my hand, what was I going to do?
I stabbed him in the eye. He screamed and smacked me, I pulled the knife out and stabbed him in the throat, it was ‘she’, the voice that guided me. Up and down up and down.
His big hands gripped my throat and face but I did not stop. Blood was everywhere, the dirt, our bodies and on the surrounding environment. His hands fell. He stopped moving. I dropped the knife, I felt nothing.
Looking up I witnessed the field. White Delilah flowers were everywhere. One caught my attention, over its white petals was my father’s blood. I walked to it, and smelled it. It was so pretty. “I am Delilah” said the voice said. “I will keep you safe”
I wish I could have spoken to mother, told her what daddy did but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But now I had my freedom. Years following I followed the voice. My pleasure for killing increased and soon I stopped hearing her as a voice she simply became a part of me.
Anne is dead to me, she died the moment she found liberation. I am Delilah; murder is not only my hobby and past time, but my career. And I love it.
Strength: 1
Intelligence: 2
Speed: 4
Stamina: 1
Blood Thirst: 8 + 2 (used drugs)
Revenge:0
Inertia: 1
Stealth: 13
Combos:
Weapons Of Choice: Soaring Fangs (20), Throwing Knives (20), The Puffer (40), Cavalar Cloak, Desert Eagle (Silenced, 9 rounds per clip), Penetrators (x3 Rounds), Cryogenic rounds(x2 Rounds)
Status Point (Both used prior)
Inventory:
Throwing Knives: 200
Soaring fangs(x2): 10,000
Status Point: 4,000
The Puffer(x2): 2,000
Cavalar Cloak: 25,000
Desert Eagle: 2,000
Handgun Silencer: 700
Penetrators (x3): 300
Cryogenic rounds(x2): 2000
$48,200 spent
Account Balance: $3,800
No Rest For The Wicked [M] OOC
Originally Posted by V
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