JAKOBS, aleksei jonathon

[aleksei jonathon jakobs]

aleksei jonathon jakobs

punch your lights out, hit the pavement
that’s what i call entertainment
causin’ problems makes you famous
all this violence makes a statement

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - basics
AND I THROW MY HEART BACK TO THE OCEAN

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aleksei jonathon jakobs.
nicknames:
aleks, leksei, leks, a.j., j.j.
sex:
male.
age:
seventeen.
birthday:
thirtieth of april.
grade:
junior.
orientation:
bisexual, but pretty queer.
diagnosis:
personality disorder; level 5.
problem:
Well, where to start? If we start with his behaviours, Aleks is what his teachers always described as a ‘trouble child’. He loves to torment people, loves knowing that his mark could be left on their lives forever if he does it well enough. And he doesn’t feel bad in the fucking slightest for doing it, in fact, he loves it. He doesn’t have a conscience; nothing holds him back from his domination. In fact, everything pushes him towards it; his lust for power, his need for control, his want to see people squirming in mental and physical pain beneath him. He can be criminally dangerous, and even though he’s only attempted to kill one person in his life, that really only been because after the consequences of that one attempt, he wants to wait, plan it out longer, wait till he’s over eighteen, so he can make provisions, be independent, so that when he needs to he can slip under the radar easily.
Then Aleks also has a problem with his mood. He can swing extremely quickly into depression, self-destruction, and suicidal ideation. Then of course, there’s his psychosis. His detachment from reality and, of course, his hallucinations and voices. The hallucinations and voices have gotten a lot better, at since when he was first admitted into Bluebird, or at least less frequent, but it varies. The thing is, however, that you could write pages about Aleks problems, if you decided to go into details. But the basics? They’re above. So go on, read up on him. But trust me, even if you do, you’ll probably still end up surprised. Aleksei is like that.
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- - - - - - - - - - - appearance
BUT IT DON'T GO FAR, IT COME BACK FLOATING

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natural foncé brunette tipped into a deep black by boxed dye, cropped shorter in back while his fringe grows long over his eyes.
eyes:
a piercing cerulean blue, inherited from his mother, with almost black lashes lining them.
face:
Aleks’ ivory skin, ebony hair, and ice blue eyes are reminiscent of some warped Russian snow-white, a feminine beauty in his features having been inherited from his mother. His fringe often obscures defined cheekbones and swing over the top of a widely bridged nose, since even when he does deign to push the blackened mess over his ear, it quickly falls back over visage, just too short to stay put. Pink, plumped lips often find themselves with a cigarette pushed between them, ends curled up in a predatory smirk, or open slightly in his trademark giggle, and smattering of freckles lightly covers his nose if he spends too much time abroad. Oh yes, and then a gauge in his right ear, ranging anywhere between 8mm and 16mm, depending on how bored he gets, and how much he wanted to enrage the fuck out of his parents/teachers/co. What fun.
body:
At a height of six foot and one and a half inches, and yet only weighing one hundred and thirty pounds, Aleks dips just below the healthy weight range into ‘underweight’. True, he’s never exactly been anywhere near overweight, but this is simply a marker of his self-destruction, through his restriction and over exercise, for whenever his mood dips below a certain point, food no longer remains on the agenda for him. He does have a light definition of his muscles, but since he himself abhors that chiselled hacked beefiness that some boys seem to strive to achieve, he’s never really wanted to get much stronger. Even if he did try, he probably wouldn’t be able to achieve it, for Leks has the long, stringy muscles of a runner, not the hard packed ones of a body builder. Pale skin is littered with a mix of bright and black tattoos, to reclaim his own body back to him, a body that he sometimes feels he has no control over. Laid over these, on the insides of arms, the outsides of thighs, laced on the Achilles tendon, glistening white collagen is adorned by fresh new red welts, occasionally slipping mistakenly into the outline of intricate designs and memories.
fashion:
Leksei always liked to disprove his stereotype, and this applies most certainly to his appearance. He’s a rich kid, he’s a private school kid, and he’s Russian. Yet, he doesn’t wear Jack Wills, Abercrombie, Prada or anything of the sort. Instead, apart from the essentials (loving bought by his mother’s P.A. and sent across the ocean, so that her darling son won’t have to wear ‘that trashy American gear’), his clothing consists of a strange mixture of expensive, deliberately distressed leather jackets and jeans, and then threadbare items of clothing picked up from his time loitering in Camden market. The initial group of clothing is made up of a time before his parents began to dock his allowance for his delinquency, not quite too small, having been bought ‘oversized’ for fashion. The latter are rejects ends from old charity shops, scrounged up with the fag ends of his allowance. His style could be described as ‘street’, or ‘london-esque’; he perfectly fits the ideal of the street fashion that the metropolis is famous for, with torn dark skinny jeans, old battered army boots, an anarchical distressed t-shirt, and on top, always, a well-worn leather jacket, his hair pushed haphazardly over his eyes.
playby:
ashley stymest
overall:
By a first impression, Aleks is a messy, slightly anarchical, disobedient teenager. He’ll be lounging against a brick wall on the side of the road, posture simultaneously seductive, predatory and hostile. Chin up, eyes following you down the road, hips cocked to one side, toes kicking tin cans into the wheels of passing cars. Every now and again, perhaps after leaning forward to light a signature Marlboro Reds, he’ll push a hand backwards through his hair, raking his fringe off his face, but within minutes, it’ll be hanging over icy blues once again. The dishevelled, slightly torn items of clothing which adorn his body certainly help his cocky, confidant attitude come to life, along with the dark messy hair, both hair and garb contrasting starkly with his alabaster skin. His entire attire leans towards the darker side of the spectrum, the only colours being possible mute tones on faded t-shirts, or the edges of boxers showing under dark jeans, the monochrome palette matching his complexion. The whole vogue could be considered quite ‘hardcore’, with possibly the skinny jeans being the only items in his wardrobe which leans itself more towards femininity, and then the occasional smear of charcoal eyeliner smudged across lids, along with, when he can be bothered to dress up, chains looped around his neck, small intriguing pendants hanging from their apices. However, although his clothing may not be that effete, his epicene beauty - mainly seen in his effeminate features, delicate but also sharp, muscles long and wiry, holding none of the hulk and bulk which is the cliché for a male – creates his slightly androgynous, genderfuckery look. Although most mornings Aleks simply throws on what comes first out of his drawers, this is simply out of lethargy and not because he has no concern for his appearance. When he wants to be, the boy is quite stylish and beautiful, in the way only those that wear distressed, dirty clothing can be.
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- - - - - - - - - - - personality
AND I WATCH IT WASH UP WITH THE DEAD FISH

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fire, tattoos, smoking, music, independence, freedom, control, pissing people off, sarcasm, anti-establishmentarianism.
dislikes:
forensic wards, psychiatric wards, jack wills, abercrombie & fitch, diagnoses, people who use logical arguments against him, crybabies, medication.
strengths:
intimidating, confident, arrogant, controlling, stubborn, secretive, sarcastic, vengeful, assertive, amoral, demanding.
weaknesses:
volatile, irrational, prejudiced, callous, egocentric.
secrets:
× his self harm.
× the fact that the attempted murder of his dad was also a suicide attempt.
× he can (in some ways) experience love – it’s just a very different type of love to what most define it as.
worst memory:
His time in Bluebird. Okay, yes, he met some of the only people he will consider true ‘friends’ there – Cam and Josh. But he was also held down, injected, tied up, in restrains for a number of days a number of times. Whether it be mitts, cuffs, or whatever the fuck, it was the worst. Especially when he first got there. After a bit, they didn’t exactly trust him, but he had learnt how to play them. Until they’d realise, and oh look, what’s this you’re giving me, more sedatives? Well, I refuse to take them. Then held down, arms legs, head, back, and a needle going in your fucking arse, shoving all those psychotropic shit pills into you. Of course, after a while you learn to bottle it up, but all that anger, all that rage at them? You have to keep that deep deep inside, not even allowed out through self-destructive pain, waiting for months for them to find you ‘healthy’, and into an environment when you can finally be free. But even then, even when you have your freedom, it haunts you. The fact that at any moment, they can pull you back there. That you have to reign yourself in, just for them. And people wonder why, even when he isn’t depressed, he still considers suicide. Cause you know, if there is an afterlife, at least it wouldn’t have those motherfucking bastards following your every move.
best memory:
Although it may seem strange for a boy who doesn’t experience ‘love’ as we know it, but it would be his time with Joshua. You want to know who Joshua is? Put it this way, Aleksei and Joshua made the most fucked up, and yet perfect couple. Joshua seemed to give him all the power and control he needed, he bent perfectly to the way Aleks functioned, with enough spunk, and yet enough submission to hold Aleks perfectly. Our boy himself considered it a form of love - the only form he would ever accept or be able to manifest – and the two would of continued being together it hadn’t been for the circumstances that got Aleks sent to Hawthorne. So yes, he fucking loves torturing people, but when he does, he loses his sense of reality and thus his memory of it is slightly fuzzy. But his time with Joshua? Is crystal clear, full of pain, blood, control, power, domination, and was fucking wonderful.
desires:
× to have a dramatic death – burning down a building with him in it, going to bluebird, shooting everyone then turning the gun on him, or a sid and nancy type scenario (except with more dying).
× to get revenge on; bluebird, his father, his mother, his social worker, his camhs team, his fucking shitty psychiatrist and more. what exactly the revenge against his parents is exactly for, he’s not certain. he just hates them with a passion.
× to get back with joshua, or have another permanent relationship like that.
pet peeves:
× those little posh, stuck up, good for nothing idiotic private school bastards he had to spend his entire education with.
× people who walk to slow.
× people who wear pastel colours.
× people who lie to him.
× just… quite a few types of people and institutions.
overall:
Aleks is a peculiar brand of teenager. To many people, when they first meet him and don’t see his depth, they simply perceive him as an obstinate, rude, bullying teenager. In reality, he is far more than that. He can be an egotistical, controlling, arrogant bastard who’ll have your kidney if you try to insult him. He can be a self-depreciating, suicidal melancholy teenager who ties ligatures in their bedroom only to be discovered multiple times by the maid. But you see, what’s somewhat interesting is that he can’t seem to find something in the middle, and yet he can be a combination of the two. But in the norm? Leksei is overtly confident and arrogant, walking around as if he owns the place, quick to insult, quick to tease, quick to hurt. He does have the ability to hide this if he wishes, but the thing with being institutionalised is that you give up on the camouflage. Yes, he could hide all he wants, but these people already know the extent of his cruelty. Still, at times he’ll condone covering up his true nature, maybe when seducing a silly little girl into a one-night stand, or when flirting at G-A-Y in Soho, and yes, when in the ‘real world’ he does deign to put up this façade. But in a place he has to live? Too fucking boring. He wants the inhabitants of Hawthorne to be scared of him, he wants to leave them scarred, remembering him for the rest of their lives. The feeling of power which accompanies that of knowing you have changed someone’s mindset forever is heady, to know that they’ll remember you in their nightmares is glorious. Then there are the few people you could say Aleks ‘likes’. Even over these, he exerts a form of control and power, but you see, anyone he ‘likes’ will have at least a smidge of submission to him, or he never would consider them anything other than victims. Perhaps Cam, his almost sister is outside this rule, but then again, it’s the exception that proves the rule, isn’t it?
Then his depression, the blackened spirals, which are a constant undertone, and then dip down, like craggy abysses. Aleks hates himself, Aleks knows he’s ugly, he knows the most his life could come to will never be enough, that the best he do will be an impressive suicide. He’s the type who would run away from a psychiatric unit to simply massacre a village and then kill himself, so that for years in the history books his name will be down, that the possibly hundreds of people who his killings affect will feel his control over their lives for years to come. And then can you imagine, if you planned the massacre well? Made it so that you slipped from house to house slowly, carving people up, seeing their blood paint the walls, seeing how silent you could make their deaths, how painful. But back to the depression, yea? In some ways, it’s the only part of himself which others view as ‘normal’. The carving up of his arms, the burns with adorn his skin, the choke marks around his neck; these are the signs of adolescence according to some, and they see this side of him as ‘typical’. However, where the deepest of those cuts spring from is entirely not normal. You see, Aleks has a side that we haven’t gone into yet. Which doesn’t really fit anywhere.
The side of him emerges when his subconscious finds it all too much. When his brain overloads, and the mania and the psychosis emerges, mixed with the voices, the confusion, the energy, the leaps of the brain. It’s his worst side, it’s where he cannot control any single inch of him, and the only way to end it is through pain and death, of both others and himself. It’s a crazy headspace, full of perverted fantasies, detachment from reality, with hallucinations and the works. It manifests itself slightly differently every time, never the same twice, but always as badly remembered. Sometimes he’ll have a fuzzy outline of what happened (usually when the voices and images are not present), whereas at other times he won’t have the faintest idea time had even passed. When this happens from more than a few hours, Aleks can get very disorientated, muddling up days, weeks, even months. When he’s inside of these episodes, his emotions are the only thing which rule him. There is no rationale, no cold calm calculation. It’s simply pure animal instinct.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - history
BUT IT AIN'T QUITE DEAD, IT JUST IS LIKE THIS

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jonathon dorian jakobs – chairman and chief executive – forty-nine.
rosalina dmitrievna tarasova jakobs – heiress – forty.
siblings:
n/a.
other relatives:
dorian charles jakobs – paternal grandfather – seventy-nine.
elizabeth rose williams jakobs – paternal grandmother – seventy-six.
dmitri nikolaevich tarasov – maternal grandfather – seventy-four.
anzhela vladimirovna petrova tarasova – maternal grandmother – sixty-five.
history:
There’s an absolute truth in saying a child’s history (and from that, their problems) begins years before they were born. For Aleksei, we can either start at one end of the story, or the other. Surprisingly, both are relatively similar. But for ease, we’ll start with the oldest parent, Jonathon, Aleksei’s father. Brought up in a traditionally English manner in the middle of the countryside, Jonathon (or J.D., as most of his friends called him) was sent away to Eton at eleven, where he stayed to complete his education, before heading to Cambridge. He was an average student, but had a way of manipulating people with his charm that gave him a leg-up on the business ladder, able to have his own, fully owned first house in the center of London when he was only twenty-five. And yes, maybe, possibly the whole nepotism deal had helped him get there, but by the time he met Rosaline, when he was twenty-nine, his skill at talking to clients and charming fellow colleagues in the boardroom was what was pushing his towards the top, constantly away on business trips, adorned with flashy suits and shiny Rolex’s.

Now, you ask, how did he meet Rosaline. It was another office party, quite boring, the alcohol dry and tasteless. And then a beautiful blue eyed, dark haired girl manages to spill her cheap red wine all over his white shirt. Of course, to begin with, there was quite a lot of confusion, since Rosaline very clearly did not work in the offices, and yet what was she doing here? Gate crashing it? As it turned out, he father was on a business trip to England, and had decided to visit his little girl at university while he was at it, before bringing her to a party he had been invited to by a client to talk over the deals. A young girl, barely twenty years old, a regular heiress. At first, J.D. had only thought of seducing her, but as he got to know her he began to… Not so much fall in love with her, but see the advantages to a relationship between them. Her father was a powerful man in this business, having contacts all over the place, and a marriage to his only daughter would certainly boost his already high status. Secondly, although her family were the nouveau riche, they were certainly rich. And the last two points were simple; their children would be beautiful, and of course, the most important one – she was beautifully simple enough to fall for his charm and he could keep it that way.

For Rosaline’s side of the story, you simply have to follow the path of a Russian girl sent off to boarding school from the age of seven till she graduate from university. Although academically she was relatively bright, possibly simply from the amount of money her father had poured into her schooling, it had never interested her, and she had continued onto university simply to appease her family, and less for her own gain. And she constantly craved attention. She found it too, a pale skinned snow-white beauty, but the attention she received was always short lived, for her constant craving for it often turned people off. And then of course, every single time the inevitable ‘meet the parents’ came, her boyfriends would be turfed out on their arses by her high standard father. So of course, when she met J.D., a talented, handsome man who never tired of giving her attention (or so it seemed), and that her father seemed to approve of, she rushed headfirst into the relationship. And really, for her, it felt perfect. Although Jonathon was often away on business trips, he would constantly be sending hr streams of small gifts and notes, letting her feel lavished in attention. When she complained about being lonely, and needing someone to go shopping with, he got her a P.A. who did exactly that. For J.D., it was easy enough. He had a skill in reading people, and knew exactly how to play it so that Rosaline fell straight into his arms. Yes, maybe in some way he loved her, but it was for exactly the same reasons that she ‘loved’ him; they gave each other exactly what they needed. Rosaline was beautiful, amazing in bed, and could be calmed by the peace offering of attention. J.D. was charming, generous, and as his status in his business increased, and he earned more and more money (helped quite generously by both his and Rosaline’s father), he gave Rosaline more and more.

But of course, as the story always goes, Rosaline only wanted one thing. A child, her very own little toy doll to play with, to dress up and take for walks in the park. So, on her twenty-second birthday, she confessed this to J.D., and immediately afterwards he proposed. And Rosaline stopped taking the pill. With six months she was pregnant, and within seven she had been married. However, apart from that, nothing in their schedule had changed. He was always away on business trips, she was constantly spending money on frivolous shopping trips. Of course, she believed that when the baby was born that maybe he’d stop a bit. No, of course she did expect John to stop altogether (even though she may have wished it a bit), but didn’t the thought of his new born bundle of joy make him want to stay put just a bit?

On April thirtieth, the day Aleksei Jonathon Jakobs was born, Jonathon Dorian Jakobs was in Taiwan on a business trip, and Rosaline Dmitrievna Jakobs was crying her eyes out in a hospital bed. The next day J.D. had rolled in, apologising profusely, gifts in hand, but a week later he had flown out again, this time only to Germany. But then, you think, at least Aleksei had an adoring mother who played with him all the time? Not really. You see, Rosaline was still only a child, really. She only wanted a baby so that she could make it wear pretty outfits, and to take it out so that pretty ladies could coo at it. But when it shriek when she tried to place it in outfits, or puked on her when she tried to show it to the old ladies, she gave up. Hiring a wet nurse (because really, people expected her to breast feed?) and a nanny, on top of the already hired household staff of a cook, two cleaners and a gardener, Rosaline transferred all the boring jobs of looking after the child to these people, and only kept the ‘fun’ parts for herself. Which were few, mainly baptism dress shopping (Russian Orthodox, obviously, her father would have it no other way), and taking Aleks out occasionally when her friends wanted to meet him.

So yes, Aleks grew up with both an absent father and mother. But it wasn’t all bad. His nanny was like his mother to him, constantly with him, looking after him, the works. Her name was Katherine Barrows, and she had been twenty-seven when Aleks’ mother had first hired her. She had been hired for one main reason reasons she had taken Russian at university, and was fluent in the language. Of course, there were a few other reasons. Boy-short mousey brown hair, covered in freckles, with no cleavage to speak of, Kat was pretty but only in a tomboyish way. Which was to be expected, what with her being gay and all. Although Rosaline didn’t particularly care for ‘those types of people’, the knowledge that this woman would not hit on her husband when he was home relieved her immensely. Of course, you might argue that the girl was quite young for a full time nanny, but then when she had explained to Rosaline that she had spent the majority of her life looking after four younger siblings when her mother had died, coupled with the other factors, Rosaline had hired her on the spot.

She had been the perfect nanny for Aleks. Having raised her four sibling, who were all exponentially younger than her, his temper tantrums and the such didn’t give her that much trouble, though she had many scars and marks from the bites he had given her. Why did she not complain, you ask? Well, you see, Kat was one of those people with a heart made of marshmallow fluff. Having lost her own mother, seeing this boy being deprived of his parents simple made her heart break (especially since neither of them were dead, simply selfish), and for all his mood swings she felt she could ‘fix’ him. And for this reason, even though he inflicted so much pain on her, she never resigned, or gave up, simply kept on trying.

For Aleks, childhood was simple. He didn’t see Rosaline as a mother, he saw her in the way that you might see a godparent, the same with his father. He had called Kat ‘mommy’ from the moment he had learnt the word, calling Rosaline ‘mama’, a word he didn’t even realised was related to the word ‘mommy’ till he was four. J.D. he named ‘pa’, mainly at Kat’s coercing, afraid she would lose her job if Rosaline or J.D. heard Aleks calling her ‘mommy’. He was naturally a troublemaker, but he got away with it, at least until he began attending full time education. And that was when things began to go down hill. Cause, you see, that was when Kat wasn’t able to hide his mischief from his parents any more.

Even though Rosaline spent no time with her son, she still had an image in her head of him as a perfect angel, and spent time gushing about him with her friends. Of course, when Aleks got kicked out of his first school at the mere age of six, after multiple suspensions, punishments and detentions, you would think that this view maybe changed. But it didn’t. Rosaline vowed that it was the school that was wrong, not her darling angel. Over the next five years he was kicked out of six more schools, what Aleks personally liked to think was some sort of record, before he eventually was turned away from all private schools, and was sent to a specialist state grammar, with Kat ferrying him back and forth between private tutoring and ‘anger management’ classes, which the final school which had kicked him out had recommended.

For more about Aleks as a person, well, there was truth in what one head teacher had said after Aleks had bitten off the tip of his finger. He was an evil little fucker. He was bratty, spoilt, and has frequent temper tantrums for no apparent reason. He was always a playground bully, making the other children cry, and at home he bullied as well, whether it be Kat, the cook, one of the cleaners or even the gardener. Of course, there were then the pets which he had demanded – hamsters, goldfish, gerbils, rabbits, chinchillas and more, which ended up burnt, flushed down the toilet, microwaved and much much more. As he grew up, he began to appear more calmed, and was charming towards his teachers, but then they would find out sometime later that the charm was simply means to an end after some god-awful prank of some kind was played on them.

However, even with all of this, you could still try to claim that Aleks was simply a spoilt, bratty child, and that was all that was wrong with him. Of course, in his thirteenth year of life this was proved completely incorrect. Why? Because he ended up in an adolescent forensic ward for attempted suicide and murder.

But let’s go back a bit, and I’ll tell you what the world wasn’t seeing of Aleks. At the age of eleven, he had begun to self harm. Wait, actually, maybe I should go back a bit more. When Aleks had been ten years old, he had first connected with this out of control feeling he sometimes felt. These mood swings crept up on him with no warning, skewing his whole perception of everything, and he was beginning to realize the voices he sometimes heard, and the things he saw weren’t actually real. He never really tried to control it, but when the down swings came one day, he had considered killing himself. He hadn’t actually gone through with it, but he had snuck down to the kitchen to get a huge knife, taking it back up to his room. In the end, the knife drew blood, but simply from his legs, no where near his arteries. This was on the day after his eleventh birthday.

Over time, things got worse. Aleks began to self harm regularly, thinking of suicide more. But not just the death of himself. He also thought in depth about the death of other people. Most of all his Pa and Ma. His Ma, however, he could wait to kill. His Pa? Never. To begin with, it was only a need to hurt him, to make him feel pain, how interesting and perfect it would be, so much better than simply torturing a hamster. But it grew to something far, far, far worse. Did Aleks know why he wanted to kill his father? Not really. Maybe somewhere deep in his subconscious he had realized, but not as conscious thought. So a month or two after his thirteenth birthday, when his father was home, and he had created diversions so that everyone was out of the house, he bolted all the doors, locking them from the outside before climbing in via a window, so that no one could leave, and then disconnecting all phones, he set a fire. He had locked his father in his office with J.D. realizing it, and then set the fire so that the heat would seep in first, scaring his father, before the flames would come and consume him. to make things extra certain, he had pushed furniture up against all the walls of the office, so that even when it was all burnt down, the debris would be too thick to push through. And then for himself. He went to the room directly above his father’s office, and set up a noose so that the moment the floor gave in, he would die. Of course, he also overdosed on his mother’s codeine tablets and alcohol, but he knew that wouldn’t kill him, because he wanted to be alive when his father started to shriek for help.

Why did the plan not work? Well, it was simply up to fluke. It wasn’t the fact that someone realized that something was burning – no one had realized anything was wrong. No, it was simply due to the cleaner (who was not scheduled to be there), having forgotten her coat, coming back to the house to pick it up, and hearing shouting and screaming. She had gone to investigate, and found the fire burning, only just having gotten into the office, the ceiling still completely intact. She called 999 immediately, and began to search for a fire extinguisher, still in shock, not realizing the obvious truth that someone had set this up. The great thing about living in a posh, central part of town is that the firemen arrive really quickly, you see. They quickly extinguished the fire, before the ambulances and the police arrived, and then began to search the building, them realizing that this had obviously been a planned fire, and trying to find the perpetrator. Of course, what they didn’t expect to find was Aleks, passed out from the overdose and the smoke, noose still around his neck. He had been sitting on the floor, waiting for it to fall through, for the noose was tight, but not enough to have killed him, only enough to leave a purple bruise for the next few weeks. But of course, then things begun to become interesting.

He was first treated as simply a suicide case, put in a pediatric hospital unit, on an IV for seventy-two hours, as the police case began to be put together. Aleks denied having anything to do with the fire, simply stating he had tried to kill himself, knowing that he could certainly not get out of that, so going with it. However, the strange arrangement with the noose made this story slightly unbelievable. His father denied the idea that Aleks could have had anything to do with it, saying that his business rivals may have orchestrated it. But when they found the gasoline cans behind the house, and traced their purchase (cause although the fingerprints were gone, the records from the nearby store weren’t), cased together with the diversions Aleks had conceived to get everyone out of the house being false, the evidence pointed towards him, and the boy was sectioned in a forensic unit.

Bluebird.

Aleks fucking hated it there, from the staff to the patients. He was one of the youngest there, the patients hostile as hell. The first six months he kicked off at least once a day, his episodes of psychosis getting worse and worse, the voices in his head almost taking over, restrained every day, sedated as fuck 24 hours a day. It was hell on earth, because the staff didn’t fall for his charm, and he was one of the only kids who didn’t have major trauma, and he didn’t really want to bond anyway. Each member of staff was patronizing, and even after he began to settle, heavily dosed up on medication, he hated the way he was so boxed in.

For about a year, Aleks remained what society would call a ‘loner’. He didn’t have many friends in there, at least not in more than ‘I’ll get on with you since you live in the same place as me’ type friends. Not as many people fell for the charm and manipulation he could place on ordinary people, and he couldn’t bully people because of the constant observation by staff. He couldn’t self harm, because for at least a year, the lowest level of observation he was on was one-to-one, the highest being seven-to-one at one point. But then, something came along that changed everything quite a bit. Or more precisely, someone. Joshua. Dearest Joshua, just a bit older than Aleks, but someone who he could manipulate perfectly. And then it stopped being manipulation, because in fact he didn’t need it any more. They were always a couple, even before it became ‘official’ (which took many years), the submissive in Josh fitting perfectly to Aleks’ dominant side. Of course, when you’re in a forensic unit, constantly monitored, you can’t exactly do anything physical, not for lack of trying between the two of them, but even so, it was the strongest relationship Aleks had ever had with anyone, in all ways. Joshua made the days at Bluebird pass just that bit faster, and when Aleks began to have his home leave (which of course, he was escorted on by three burly tall men), he would buy things for Josh, things which represented his ownership, from black leather cuffs to just simply a number of t-shirts that then he made Josh wear constantly. He always had a yearning to make his mark more permanent, something that the boy couldn’t removed, but of course, that wasn’t possible.

And then came Cam. Cameron Elizabeth Lynn, the first person he would call a ‘friend’, or even sister. To begin with, they hated each other, their similarities clashing. But after a bit, they learnt that either they could clash, or work together and double the potential they had. At this point, Aleks and Josh were in the closest thing to an established relationship that two people as fucked up as them could have. Aleks had been in Bluebird for coming up on two and a half years now, having been let out a few times for unescorted home leave, and every time causing chaos when he went home. Even with all that time in a hospital, he hadn’t changed a bit – couldn’t change a bit, for his psychosis seemed untreatable by medication, and then of course his bad behavior was a choice, so obvious completely untreatable by the medication they gave him.

Him and Cam managed to cause the most chaos they could with the amount of supervision they were under for quite a while, before suddenly, Josh was offered a discharge date. Yeah, it was in a few months from then, but it fucking shocked Aleks. Josh offered to act up for him, but instead, Aleks told him to get out, that he’d only be a few steps behind him. And amazingly, he was. For the next six months up to when Josh was discharged, Aleks became an absolute angel, asking for heavy sedatives as soon as he felt his psychosis coming on, and behaving on home leave. Was he doing it for Josh? Not so much. He was doing it for himself, because Josh was his. Of course, Cam found him unendingly boring for a bit, but then it became a game between them, a challenge to see who could get out first, be the best. When Joshua was discharged, Aleks began visiting him in his home leave, still supervised, but now only by parents. And of course, that was the first time they made out, when Aleks was fifteen. And then, a few months later, Aleks was discharged. Obviously, he was still watched carefully by both the police, social services and the mental health professionals, but although he went up and down, he managed to keep it together enough that he wasn’t sent back into Bluebird. Instead, his relationship with Josh flourished. In fact, Josh kept him relatively normal, if he could ever be that. He had stopped taking the heavy sedatives, so he still had his psychotic episodes, but he’d just lock himself in his room and call Josh over, and take it out, normally through sex. What can I say, they had a very kinky sex life, which satisfied Aleks very much.

Then, a few months after Aleks was let out, Cam got out. With Cam now here, Aleks could let go a bit more, knowing that as long as he didn’t get caught, he’d be fine. He also began to cut down more and more on his medication, and his depression crept back up on him. Still, as long as he hid it well he could self-harm, which he had already been doing to knock himself out of the psychosis, just now he did it more. Then tragedy occurred. Well, maybe that isn’t the right word. Joshua’s grandmother, who had moved to Australia whilst Josh was in hospital, died. Josh was taken away for what was initially a two week holiday, but what ended up being a three month one, as his mother decided to stay there and tie up affairs. After two weeks, the stress of not having the outlet Aleks had found in Josh began to rub at him, and after three weeks he got pissed off at his medication and stopped taking it completely. He then began to restrict, his weight dropping down and down. Cam once or twice warned him about making sure not to go back into hospital, but it was no longer something he held any control over, and even though he hid it well, when stole his father’s car, then ended up in an unlucky car crash (which was really no fault of Aleks’ own), and ended up in hospital, his weight loss was revealed, and his BMI had dropped down to thirteen. He ended up in an eating disorder ward for two months (and really, it was one of the easiest places ever to cause people to have panic attacks without the staff realizing), and then on getting out, was immediately sent to Hawthorne. His mother had worried about him being sent back to the forensic ward, still trying to believe that her ‘little angel’ wasn’t really bad, and so to warn against that, had arranged Hawthorne in advance. For his father, it was far better to say to colleagues that his son was off at school in America than that he was in a fucking forensic unit.

So Aleks left Cam, and because of being in hospital, didn’t get to say goodbye to either her or Joshua, who had returned to England during his time in the psychiatric unit. Aleks had attempted to run away once to see both of them, but had been caught immediately by the police. So now there he was, in Hawthorne. And you see, he now had no Josh. He had no Cam. And he was already in a fucking rehab center. So really, what was the point in trying to hide things anymore? So now he doesn’t hide. He shows people who he really is. And if that scares the fuck out of people? Well, it was the desired effect, really.
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OH MY HEART, IT'S A HOUSE IN TORNADO

[/b]
lexxi.
your age:
seventeen.
time zone:
greenwich mean time.
other characters:
n/a.
rp sample:
see american {PSCHO} or another meeting.
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OH MY HEART, IT'S A HOUSE IN THE SKY IN THE EYE OF TORNADO

[/URL] at CAUTION 2.0
BANGBANGBEAUTIFUL at CAUTION 2.0
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[aleksei jonathon jakobs]