A/N: Before I say anything, I've used this character in my story Fall into Silence... She's my favorite character, okay?! Don't judge me! I just really like the story and I can't even... Sorry, I'll stop freaking out and get on with this haha.689Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf1nBzdgGXz
Name: Hex (formerly Hestia and Sarah)689Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn4CuWSwozY
Age: 18
Gender: Girl
Appearance: She has wavy brown hair, is small and muscular, and has hazel eyes. She usually wears her black leather jacket and signature combat boot. She often carries a messenger bag filled with a variety of lockpicks, weapons, and other objects that are more normal to be carrying around.
Personality: Hex often acts strong, wry, and sassy, but underneath, she is terrified of chaos and deep feelings, like love and happiness. She feels like she must always remain in control and aware of everything. She can be violent when threatened, which is because of her past encounters.
Backstory: Hex was kidnapped when she was 7 and found 4 years later. Her kidnapper, named Paul, replaced his dead daughter with Hex. She was found by an FBI agent named Chris. Chris was cut out of her life when she was 16, after she filed for emancipation. Her mother agreed, claiming Hex was "too much to handle" and acted out with "destructive behavior." (Her mother is crazy and a b*tch). She abandoned her family and now considers her family to be her high school best friend, Bo, and the son of Chris, Sterling, whom she met a short time after her rescue. Bo is the closest thing Hex has to a brother.689Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZCw8xFdOoU
Story Genre: Fall into Silence is a mystery/romance/thriller/noir story... It's a bit of a hybrid...
I'm including the first chapter. You can check out the rest of it by going to my profile if you enjoy the first bit!689Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqO9EaI7d0e
Chapter One- Quiet Night
Hex had always been quiet. She never spoke in high school classes, and now that she was older and living on her own, that fact hasn’t changed. People still know her by her face, even if she doesn’t say a word to them. Hex was the last victim of the serial kidnappings in 2004 when she was seven. She was found four years later. Now 18, her face is still on magazines, a mark of a past that Hex would rather forget. Every year on the anniversary, her photo shows up again and again, and the reporters start calling. She never gave an interview, and neither had the person that found her.
She was found by an FBI agent she knows as Chris. His full name is Chris Ashton, but since he found Hex in 2008, she’d only ever known him as Chris. Hex stopped talking to him when she was 16, but he still sent her cards on her birthday. After her dad left, Chris wanted to take care of her, but her mom insisted on doing so herself. Hex’s mother thinks Hex became wild over the four years she was away from her, but the truth is that Hex has always had a part of her that wanted to lash out.
After Hex was found, she started taking fencing, archery, gun safety and shooting classes, and kickboxing. After her dad left her mom for his slut, she took on even more activities, like rock climbing, martial arts, and dancing. Dancing didn’t seem like something she would’ve enjoyed, but it helped her with flexibility and expressing herself in a way that didn’t involve violence. Hex felt in control when she danced and when she went to the shooting range. Control, defense, and awareness were the things she started working on when she was rescued.
Everyone wants to know what happened. She tried erasing the memories, but they made an imprint in her mind.
Hestia was outside, tossing the ball to her dog, Bear, when the ball rolled under the fence. She told Bear to stay put and slipped through the gate. She was scanning the pavement and ran into Paul. He was holding the red ball that had rolled under the fence.
“Excuse me, sir, I think that’s my dog’s ball,” she said meekly, shrinking under his hard gaze.
“Where do you live, little one?” he asked. Hestia pointed at her house and he walked over and tossed the ball over the fence before turning sharply and grabbing her arm in a tight grip.
“What are-“she started, but he covered her mouth with his other hand and dragged her towards his car. He opened the trunk and pulled out a piece of rope as long as her arm. Holding Hestia’s wrists together, he quickly bound them and picked her up over his shoulder before tossing her in his trunk. She passed out in the darkness, and when she came to, she was in a small dark closet-like space. There was a bucket to go to the bathroom in, a thin mattress, and a fold up chair. Hestia was startled by the door opening and saw the man kneel beside her.
“Remember me? I’m Paul.” Hestia scrambled away from him, knowing he was a bad man. “It’s alright Sarah,” Paul murmured to her.
“My name isn’t Sarah, its Hestia,” she said. He smiled and shook his head like he was entertained.
“It isn’t Hestia any longer. Now it’s Sarah. And you don’t have your old family anymore. Now you have me. I’ll take care of you,” Paul said gently, reaching over and running his fingers through her hair. Strands of it got caught in his fingers and he stared at them, a small smile forming.
“I just want to go home,” Hestia whimpered.
“Your home is here now, Sarah,” Paul replied.
The entire experience was horrific. She tried everything to forget, and her mom has gone through therapists like a knife through softened butter, but nothing can help except being in control and noticing everything. The rescue is the one thing she actually wanted to remember. After a while, she adjusted and played the role of Paul’s daughter, Sarah. She truly believed she was Sarah. She forgot her own name.
Paul and Sarah were on the rug in the living room, playing Spoons when the doorbell rang. It was storming outside and Paul’s wife, Dinah, went to answer the door. Paul glanced at her and she smiled, a signal that told him she understood.
“Stay here Sarah. If anything happens, you take the gun and go,” Paul whispered. She nodded and Paul went to join Dinah at the door. She went upstairs and leaned over so she could look into the solid metal art piece that hung above the dining table. Sarah reached in and her thin fingers curled around the automatic they kept there. Sarah slid it into her pocket, checking that the safety was on first, and pulled her shirt down so it was covered. She listened to the neighbor explaining why he’d come.
“The phone line was dead, and I need to call my wife to tell her I’ll pick up the kids next week instead of this week,” he explained, his voice muffled. Sarah began to back up. If his phone line was dead, chances were that their phones were down too. She edged into the office and picked up the phone. The dial tone sounded in her ear. The neighbor had been lying. Sarah froze and slowly crept down the stairs. She clung to the wall and watched the neighbor. Paul met her eyes and her lips formed the word “liar” silently. He almost imperceptibly nodded and turned back to our neighbor before pulling the gun out of his holster that he always wore. The neighbor smiled and shook his head.
So many things happened at once.
“You figured it out,” the neighbor said. The man moved quickly and knocked the gun from Paul’s hand before yanking his arms behind his back and cuffing them. When the gun skittered across the floor, the safety was off and a single bullet was released with a loud bang, hitting Dinah straight in the head, blowing it to bits. Paul had been looking at her, giving her a look that said “run away.” Sarah watched as parts of her mother scattered and let a small shriek of “Mother” escape her lips before she spun and ran. Tears made the halls blurry, but Sarah knew the route to the back door. She heard the footsteps of the man pounding behind her, but she got to the door first. As she was about to open it, his arms wrapped around her.
“I’ve got you, it’s alright. It’s over now,” he whispered. Sarah struggled against his chest, then fell limp, slumping over, and small sobs escaped her lips. He held her until she relaxed, then set her down and turned her to face him. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sarah Miller, sir,” she answered, staring into his kind eyes. He regarded Sarah for a moment before shaking his head.
“What is the name you had four years ago?” he asked. Sarah hesitated, trying to think of where she had been four years ago.
“Hex?” she said, the foreign word coming out sounding like a guess.
“Do you mean Hestia? Are you Hestia Blackwater?” he asked her. Hex froze and her eyes filled with tears. They began to trickle down her cheeks and she stifled a cry.
“I think… I think that’s me,” she whispered. The man knelt beside her.
“My name is Chris. I’m going to take you outside. There will be people that want to ask you questions, but you don’t have to answer. I’m going to take you to see your parents and sister,” he told her. She nodded and he led her to the front door with a hand on her back. He led Hex out into the dark night, which had been made lighter by the flashing of red and blue from police cars. He opened the door to his black truck and she clambered up into one of the leather seats.
“I’m taking you home,” Chris told her. Hex nodded and looked straight ahead, out the window.
A/N: The italics are flashbacks, just FYI. I really like this story, it's one of my favorite pieces I've written so I decided to use it. Sorry if it's too much!689Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6u0pvHE8YH
