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Demolition Lovers
Orgins
"Love is an outdated concept created by men to keep women subservient."
That was the motto I lived by for years. It was easy to not believe in love, because I never had a good example of it. I believe my grandparents loved each other. Gran said they did. But Gramps died a few months after I was born. So I couldn't see it with my own eyes the evidence of love. Where you look at your partner, and everyone in the room can see you wouldn't be able to live with out that person in your life. That true un-filtered happiness that comes from love. Yeah, I've never seen it. Not with my parents. Oh hell no.
Kenneth and Kasandra Mason are two of the most un-romantic, odious people I've ever had the displeasure to know. I guess it comes with the territory of being lawyers. Their history is simple. My mother, was one of the first female lawyers in the late 60's. Well for the south she was one of the first. Being as we're from Texas, those redneck assholes didn't really care for 'liberated' women. Hell, even today you still have people thinking like that. That women should be in the kitchen, or the laundry room, living up to their gender roles. Pathetic.
Anyways, my father is the top lawyer in Dallas, and that's how he met my mother. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum of a case. Her client was suing dad's, and she won. Much to dad's surprise. He offered to take her out on a victory drink, and dinner. The night ended up with them falling into bed, and the morning after they drew up docs, on a contract marriage, and eloped. They bought a house, and decided to sleep in separate bedrooms. They still do to this day. They rarely talk. The occasional grunt here and there over a meal. They may look up from their papers to face the other, but that's rare too. The only time they ever do talk together, is either when they criticize me, or praise my siblings. Which is the only reason why the un-holy union happened. To produce spawn, and carry out the Mason name.
So you can see why I said I never had a good stable basis on love. My parents are only together for the reasons stated above, and I really had no one else to base that pesky emotion on. To see it. Books, movies, television, and music romanticize it, but the reality is simple. Love hurts. Or so I've been told. I've also heard it stinks, sucks, bites, ect. So, I'm not completely wrong to shy away from love, avoid it at all costs, and not believe in it. Not that a guy would love me. All throughout high school I was teased and picked on. I was the metal, goth, punk chick. The freak, 'Stay away from her.' they'd say. 'She's a nutcase' they said. The jocks would try to harass me, the cheerleaders would try to humiliate me at any given cost. So no, I wasn't popular, and no, no one wanted anything to do with me.
Not that I cared of course. No, in high school I was too focused on getting the fuck out. With honors. I damn well had to. My sister raised that fucking bar when she was in school, my brother met it, and then it was my turn. Bastards. You see, when having perfect siblings, and you being out of the ordinary it kinda makes life hard. Let me give you a brief explanation on my siblings.
Kathryn Joan Davenport (ne: Mason): Born July 23, 1967. She is an exact carbon copy of my mother. Brown hair, mud brown eyes, fair skinned, thin, short, around 5'3, and perfect. She was head cheerleader, homecoming queen, prom queen, yearbook editor, student council president, and valedictorian. See what I have to live up to? She's also a total snob, stuck up bitch, who at any given moment would try to get me into trouble with our 'rents. She's a lawyer, and is married with an ass for a husband, but has the sweetest daughter you'll ever meet. Katerina Jessica Davenport. But more on her later on in this tale. Trust me my Kit Kat plays an important role.
Kyle James Mason: Born March 15, 1972. He looks a lot like our father. Tall, around 6'1 broad shouldered, sandy blonde hair, but he's got mother's eyes, he's tanned, and perfect. When he was in school, he was star quarterback, homecoming king, prom king, student council president, and he was the fucking valedictorian. See a pattern? He's also funny, smart (obviously), and he typically had my back. He's not snobbish, he's just Kyle. When he was 18 he surprised us all by announcing at the dinner table that he was joining the Marines. Mother was actually tearing up, father clapped him on the back saying 'good job son.' and I was speechless. We had a long talk about it, just the two of us later that night, and I tearfully let him abandon me. Right after his basic training he served in the Gulf War. Which wasn't that long, but still. Scared me shitless. He's married, to a wonderful woman, and has two kids. Kassy Jane Mason, and Kaden John Mason. Yes, there is a pattern with names as well. Family tradition.
Now onto me.
Hello, I'm Kayla Jewel Mason.
I was born on October 31st, 1977. I have dad's (well it's dyed right now) blonde hair, damn near platinum at the moment, with black and purple flames, that I did myself. I have my father and grandmother's ice blue eyes. I'm fair skinned, around 5'6, and way too thin for my own good apparently.
I have a shit relationship with my parents, and the only comfort I had as a wee child was that of my Grandmother. Who I get my birth name from. The first Kayla Jewel. She took me under her wing, and made me into the artist woman you're listening to today. She taught me how to read, write, play a myriad of instruments, draw, paint, bake...everything. She was the perfect southern lady, and she was and is still my hero, and inspiration. She bought me my first guitar, my first drum kit, and first camera. She encouraged me to be whatever I wanted, and to keep my chin up. She was also taken away from me when I was 16. And sadly, I've never gotten over it. Nor do I think I will.
When I was in high school I was the head of the drama club, president of the debate team, president of the art club, yearbook photographer (and editor), & choir soloist. I was on the swim team, and I was valedictorian. I had to be, that was the deal I made with my father. If I became valedictorian I could choose whatever college I wanted to go to, and for the summer before he'd send me to Rock 'N Roll Fantasy Camp in NYC. I worked my ass off, and it worked.
I never attended any school dances, I wasn't peppy enough to be cheering material, and I generally disliked people. I was hated by my teachers, who would always compare me to my brother and sister. My parents looked down on me for not wanting to be a lawyer, but a photographer instead. What really fucked them up was when I said I wanted to be a drummer. I played the drums to relieve the stress and anger I had.
And my entire Jr. and Sr. years of high school, to keep up with my busy schedule I was doing massive amounts of speed, cocaine, cigarettes, and coffee. That was my diet. My freshman year of high school I weighted 130lbs. My graduation day, I weighted 90lbs. And no one noticed. No one noticed that I was wasting away to skin and bones. No one except my brother. It was the first time I'd seen him since Gran's funeral, and it was at my graduation...
"You look like shit Kay."
"Thanks."
"What happened to you kid?"
"Stress? Parents? Losing Gran?"
"I'm sorry. Kid, if I had known, I'd have visited more often...maybe get the unmentionables off of your back."
"It's fine, well it's not....but it will be. I'm going to Fantasy Camp."
He grinned at me, nudged my chin and said,
"Give 'em hell kid."
And give them hell I did. Camp changed everything. For the better or worse, it's still debatable. I'd say in the long run for the better, but at the time the summer of '95 was an interesting cluster-fuck. That led me to drop all walls, to break rules I hadn't broken, and to finally know what everything I was missing felt like. It was filled with music, movies, drugs, and alcohol.
I said before that I didn't believe in love, and I didn't....until I was 18. Then I met him, and I fell, and fall hard I did. He was everything I wasn't looking for, and yet I was at the same time. His hazel eyes stole my breath away every time he looked at me, his smirk made my knees weak, and his voice made my insides all mushy. Damn him. Damn Gerard Arthur Way.
Our story begins with myself, walking into the dorm I'd have to share with the raven haired man that has my heart, and we'll go from there. It's been an interesting roller coaster, and I'm finally happy I can share the story with someone. Strap in lovelies, you're in for a bumpy ride.
That was the motto I lived by for years. It was easy to not believe in love, because I never had a good example of it. I believe my grandparents loved each other. Gran said they did. But Gramps died a few months after I was born. So I couldn't see it with my own eyes the evidence of love. Where you look at your partner, and everyone in the room can see you wouldn't be able to live with out that person in your life. That true un-filtered happiness that comes from love. Yeah, I've never seen it. Not with my parents. Oh hell no.
Kenneth and Kasandra Mason are two of the most un-romantic, odious people I've ever had the displeasure to know. I guess it comes with the territory of being lawyers. Their history is simple. My mother, was one of the first female lawyers in the late 60's. Well for the south she was one of the first. Being as we're from Texas, those redneck assholes didn't really care for 'liberated' women. Hell, even today you still have people thinking like that. That women should be in the kitchen, or the laundry room, living up to their gender roles. Pathetic.
Anyways, my father is the top lawyer in Dallas, and that's how he met my mother. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum of a case. Her client was suing dad's, and she won. Much to dad's surprise. He offered to take her out on a victory drink, and dinner. The night ended up with them falling into bed, and the morning after they drew up docs, on a contract marriage, and eloped. They bought a house, and decided to sleep in separate bedrooms. They still do to this day. They rarely talk. The occasional grunt here and there over a meal. They may look up from their papers to face the other, but that's rare too. The only time they ever do talk together, is either when they criticize me, or praise my siblings. Which is the only reason why the un-holy union happened. To produce spawn, and carry out the Mason name.
So you can see why I said I never had a good stable basis on love. My parents are only together for the reasons stated above, and I really had no one else to base that pesky emotion on. To see it. Books, movies, television, and music romanticize it, but the reality is simple. Love hurts. Or so I've been told. I've also heard it stinks, sucks, bites, ect. So, I'm not completely wrong to shy away from love, avoid it at all costs, and not believe in it. Not that a guy would love me. All throughout high school I was teased and picked on. I was the metal, goth, punk chick. The freak, 'Stay away from her.' they'd say. 'She's a nutcase' they said. The jocks would try to harass me, the cheerleaders would try to humiliate me at any given cost. So no, I wasn't popular, and no, no one wanted anything to do with me.
Not that I cared of course. No, in high school I was too focused on getting the fuck out. With honors. I damn well had to. My sister raised that fucking bar when she was in school, my brother met it, and then it was my turn. Bastards. You see, when having perfect siblings, and you being out of the ordinary it kinda makes life hard. Let me give you a brief explanation on my siblings.
Kathryn Joan Davenport (ne: Mason): Born July 23, 1967. She is an exact carbon copy of my mother. Brown hair, mud brown eyes, fair skinned, thin, short, around 5'3, and perfect. She was head cheerleader, homecoming queen, prom queen, yearbook editor, student council president, and valedictorian. See what I have to live up to? She's also a total snob, stuck up bitch, who at any given moment would try to get me into trouble with our 'rents. She's a lawyer, and is married with an ass for a husband, but has the sweetest daughter you'll ever meet. Katerina Jessica Davenport. But more on her later on in this tale. Trust me my Kit Kat plays an important role.
Kyle James Mason: Born March 15, 1972. He looks a lot like our father. Tall, around 6'1 broad shouldered, sandy blonde hair, but he's got mother's eyes, he's tanned, and perfect. When he was in school, he was star quarterback, homecoming king, prom king, student council president, and he was the fucking valedictorian. See a pattern? He's also funny, smart (obviously), and he typically had my back. He's not snobbish, he's just Kyle. When he was 18 he surprised us all by announcing at the dinner table that he was joining the Marines. Mother was actually tearing up, father clapped him on the back saying 'good job son.' and I was speechless. We had a long talk about it, just the two of us later that night, and I tearfully let him abandon me. Right after his basic training he served in the Gulf War. Which wasn't that long, but still. Scared me shitless. He's married, to a wonderful woman, and has two kids. Kassy Jane Mason, and Kaden John Mason. Yes, there is a pattern with names as well. Family tradition.
Now onto me.
Hello, I'm Kayla Jewel Mason.
I was born on October 31st, 1977. I have dad's (well it's dyed right now) blonde hair, damn near platinum at the moment, with black and purple flames, that I did myself. I have my father and grandmother's ice blue eyes. I'm fair skinned, around 5'6, and way too thin for my own good apparently.
I have a shit relationship with my parents, and the only comfort I had as a wee child was that of my Grandmother. Who I get my birth name from. The first Kayla Jewel. She took me under her wing, and made me into the artist woman you're listening to today. She taught me how to read, write, play a myriad of instruments, draw, paint, bake...everything. She was the perfect southern lady, and she was and is still my hero, and inspiration. She bought me my first guitar, my first drum kit, and first camera. She encouraged me to be whatever I wanted, and to keep my chin up. She was also taken away from me when I was 16. And sadly, I've never gotten over it. Nor do I think I will.
When I was in high school I was the head of the drama club, president of the debate team, president of the art club, yearbook photographer (and editor), & choir soloist. I was on the swim team, and I was valedictorian. I had to be, that was the deal I made with my father. If I became valedictorian I could choose whatever college I wanted to go to, and for the summer before he'd send me to Rock 'N Roll Fantasy Camp in NYC. I worked my ass off, and it worked.
I never attended any school dances, I wasn't peppy enough to be cheering material, and I generally disliked people. I was hated by my teachers, who would always compare me to my brother and sister. My parents looked down on me for not wanting to be a lawyer, but a photographer instead. What really fucked them up was when I said I wanted to be a drummer. I played the drums to relieve the stress and anger I had.
And my entire Jr. and Sr. years of high school, to keep up with my busy schedule I was doing massive amounts of speed, cocaine, cigarettes, and coffee. That was my diet. My freshman year of high school I weighted 130lbs. My graduation day, I weighted 90lbs. And no one noticed. No one noticed that I was wasting away to skin and bones. No one except my brother. It was the first time I'd seen him since Gran's funeral, and it was at my graduation...
"You look like shit Kay."
"Thanks."
"What happened to you kid?"
"Stress? Parents? Losing Gran?"
"I'm sorry. Kid, if I had known, I'd have visited more often...maybe get the unmentionables off of your back."
"It's fine, well it's not....but it will be. I'm going to Fantasy Camp."
He grinned at me, nudged my chin and said,
"Give 'em hell kid."
And give them hell I did. Camp changed everything. For the better or worse, it's still debatable. I'd say in the long run for the better, but at the time the summer of '95 was an interesting cluster-fuck. That led me to drop all walls, to break rules I hadn't broken, and to finally know what everything I was missing felt like. It was filled with music, movies, drugs, and alcohol.
I said before that I didn't believe in love, and I didn't....until I was 18. Then I met him, and I fell, and fall hard I did. He was everything I wasn't looking for, and yet I was at the same time. His hazel eyes stole my breath away every time he looked at me, his smirk made my knees weak, and his voice made my insides all mushy. Damn him. Damn Gerard Arthur Way.
Our story begins with myself, walking into the dorm I'd have to share with the raven haired man that has my heart, and we'll go from there. It's been an interesting roller coaster, and I'm finally happy I can share the story with someone. Strap in lovelies, you're in for a bumpy ride.