Status: Boop.
Echos of Silence
Introduction- Layna
Layna Shrader was angry.
She was angry that she was born in a small town, she was angry that she had the desire to get away, she was angry that she ran off to New Orleans, she’s angry that she was raped, she’s angry that she came back to her small town with her tail between her legs, and most of all, she was angry that this was her life.
Layna came from a simple background: her father worked construction, her mother styled hair, and she had an older brother and younger sister.
Layna Maeve Shrader was nothing special. Her red hair fell in loose curls, her blue eyes were too big for her face, and she had a light colored freckle to the right of her full lips. She was just pretty.
She was slim, but she wasn’t toned- probably from the brownie batter ice-cream she eats by the pint. Her rear had a nice curve to it, but still jiggled when she walked. Her breasts were a large DD, but her stomach was soft and flat. She was quite short, standing at a mere five feet three inches.
Layna moved from the small Tennessee town of Twin Lakes two days after her highschool graduations to New Orleans. She didn’t want to go to Louisiana, but it was the only other place after Memphis. She had dated guys while in Twin Lakes and she dated in New Orleans, but never was serious with anyone.
She was utterly alone in a large city.
Being raised in a small town didn’t change her common sense: she always looked over her shoulder, she was always aware of her surroundings, she always locked her doors, and she never took alley shortcuts.
Unfortunately, after five years of New Orleans, she was raped from behind in the parking lot of the bar she worked at and was left laying on the concrete with a long gash on her left ribcage. No one was around to help her, so she picked herself up and drove to the hospital where she never breathed a word of the rape.
Two weeks later, she moved back to Twin Lakes and back to everything she wanted to desperately get away from.
Now she was sitting at her parents’ kitchen table, boiling with anger and about to start the same waitressing job she had as a teenager.
“Fuck my life,” she mumbled as she downed the last gulp of coffee from her mug and slipped her worn out converse on her feet.
She was angry that she was born in a small town, she was angry that she had the desire to get away, she was angry that she ran off to New Orleans, she’s angry that she was raped, she’s angry that she came back to her small town with her tail between her legs, and most of all, she was angry that this was her life.
Layna came from a simple background: her father worked construction, her mother styled hair, and she had an older brother and younger sister.
Layna Maeve Shrader was nothing special. Her red hair fell in loose curls, her blue eyes were too big for her face, and she had a light colored freckle to the right of her full lips. She was just pretty.
She was slim, but she wasn’t toned- probably from the brownie batter ice-cream she eats by the pint. Her rear had a nice curve to it, but still jiggled when she walked. Her breasts were a large DD, but her stomach was soft and flat. She was quite short, standing at a mere five feet three inches.
Layna moved from the small Tennessee town of Twin Lakes two days after her highschool graduations to New Orleans. She didn’t want to go to Louisiana, but it was the only other place after Memphis. She had dated guys while in Twin Lakes and she dated in New Orleans, but never was serious with anyone.
She was utterly alone in a large city.
Being raised in a small town didn’t change her common sense: she always looked over her shoulder, she was always aware of her surroundings, she always locked her doors, and she never took alley shortcuts.
Unfortunately, after five years of New Orleans, she was raped from behind in the parking lot of the bar she worked at and was left laying on the concrete with a long gash on her left ribcage. No one was around to help her, so she picked herself up and drove to the hospital where she never breathed a word of the rape.
Two weeks later, she moved back to Twin Lakes and back to everything she wanted to desperately get away from.
Now she was sitting at her parents’ kitchen table, boiling with anger and about to start the same waitressing job she had as a teenager.
“Fuck my life,” she mumbled as she downed the last gulp of coffee from her mug and slipped her worn out converse on her feet.
♠ ♠ ♠
So, I'm going to do Carys's introduction, then the rest of the chapters will be in first person. I'll list whether it's Layna or Carys.:)