Post by emma scott on Jul 27, 2010 0:02:12 GMT -8
emma lillian mae scott
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name: melinda
age: under thirty
gender: female
writing experience: if I don't write something every day I get testy
how’d you find us?: I helped make us!
a favorite book: the Guests of War Triology by Kit Pearson
other character(s): Ethan, Noah, Liam, Adele, Kaelynn, Ainsley...
name: Emma Lillian Mae Scott
age: eighteen
citizen? upper or lower schooling?: lower
previous residence: Nashville
eye color: blue
hair color: light brown
height: 5'6"
distinguishing features: scar on her right knee from when she learned to ride her bike
four good personality traits
four bad personality traits
three quirks
important people
history“…and they lived happily ever after.”
Emma Scott never had to dream of what it was like to be a princess. By the time she was five she had won her first Grand Supreme pageant title and the spare bedroom of her small Nashville home was converted to display her ever-growing collection of sashes and crowns. For her part Emma loved the pretty dresses and having her hair styled; she adored people looking at her pageant headshots and remarking that she looked just like a doll. That was the fun part, the story leading up to happily ever after. There’s a reason the story always ends before reality sets in.- - - - -
Renée Davidson had always vowed that she would never follow in her mother’s footsteps. To be pregnant and penniless at sixteen was a nightmare she refused to envision. It didn’t matter how many times her mother had told her that it was her birth that had brought meaning to her life, Renée was certain that her life had cost her mother the opportunity to live. Their life was not a bad one. Jennifer Davidson made certain to save as much as she could from her waitressing job to ensure that Renée never went without. While her Levi’s came from the thrift shop, at least she had them. Rather than see the love enveloping her mother’s actions, all Renée could see was the sacrifice. Every week she would pour through the various magazines her mother would bring back from the diner after patrons had left them behind. With shining silver safety scissors in hand she would clip images of celebrities and the wealthy; of beautiful homes and exotic destinations and glue them all into scrapbooks. Those images were the future she knew she would one day have and they were Renée’s most prized possession. There was nothing that would keep her in Tennessee.
When she was eighteen, Renée packed two suitcases: one with her clothing and a second with her scrapbooks with the intent to never return home.
New York, she quickly came to believe, had its favorites. While everyone had a dream only some had luck. Renée had none of the latter. Auditions were hard to come by and when she managed to obtain one she was told she needed an agent; agents told her that she needed more experience and so she existed in a bleak purgatory of fractured reality.
After a year of trying, Renée enrolled in school. She knew she was burning the candle at both ends but could see no alternative. There was no one waiting to help her fulfill her dreams. Instead she needed to work harder and try alternative methods. One day, when she had made her mark, people would look back at her persistence and marvel. It was the interim that was unappealing. She loathed her job in a small Italian restaurant but loved the dinner the owner insisted on serving his staff each night. Any parallels to her mother were denied. After all, unlike Jennifer Davidson, Renée was working toward something. She would never settle. As her life settled into a dull burn behind tired eyes, Renée moved through the monotony of life, wondering if this was really all there was for her.
And then she met Kelton Scott.
Renée had read enough books and been dragged to enough movies to grasp the concept of love at first sight. She thought it was nonsense and would lecture her friends whenever the topic arose. Love was gradual while lust was instant and only foolish, drunken girls confused the two.
She had picked up a shift from Marie that night and felt as though one foot was firmly planted in exhaustion and the other in delusion. She could barely see straight let alone remember an order which was why she had begun to repeat them back to the customer before placing it at the kitchen. For reasons she couldn’t fathom this had earned her two complaints that evening alone with the promise from the manager that she would be out with the third strike no matter how busy things were. Renée hated Ray and was certain the only reason he had it out for her was because she’d refused to sleep with him. As miserable as he made her life she couldn’t bring herself to quit – the tips and hours were impossible to compete with. So she smiled and apologized instead and made her way back to ‘the pen’ to finish her shift.
Tips were always higher when working in ‘the pen’ – a sunken area where college boys got drunk and watched sports loudly. It had earned its name because of the impossibility of keeping it clean and the fact that the patrons that flocked there were all pigs. That night was no exception. She’d lost count of the number of times ‘Chuckles’ had grabbed her ass that night. He had hair that was dyed every shade of the rainbow and was coiffed into a Mohawk; he’d earned the name not for the hair but for the way he chuckled each time his hand found purchase on her rear. The blood pulsing hotly through her cheeks drowned out the sound of the boisterous laughter and music. If she hadn’t needed the job, Renée had every intention of telling ‘Chuckles’ exactly what he could do with his roaming hand but knew it would earn her another complaint so she bit her tongue instead. Kelton Scott, on the other hand, did not.
In the years that followed whenever Renée looked back on that night she could not pinpoint the instant that she fell for Kelton. But somewhere between him telling ‘Chuckles’ to take it easy with his hand because it was the only thing that would be giving him pleasure that evening and the moment he had thrown ‘Chuckles’ out, she had. That night, Kelton Scott came home with her.
They started dating after that evening. At least that was what they called their frequent evenings together. No matter the plans they always found themselves lost in each other’s arms, their clothes and agenda in a pile on the floor. In Kelton, Renée was able to reclaim the dreams that had slipped through her fingers when she was unaware. He came from a wealthy family who had his future mapped out. As they lay entwined beneath the sheets he confided his dreams to travel and pursue music. He had seen the world growing up but wanted to do it on his own terms; make his own mistakes. Renée was always included in his plans. Both of them dreamed of a future together where they would have everything they had ever dared to dream and for a time it seemed that nothing would stop them.
That was until Renée was late. Six home pregnancy tests and a trip to the clinic confirmed her worst fears.
She agonized for weeks over what to do, terrified to tell Kelton what had happened. No matter how often she had professed that she was pro-choice when faced with the option she couldn’t bring herself to terminate the pregnancy. It didn’t seem fair that her child should suffer for her mistake. Besides her own mother had raised alone and she had turned out fine – she could do this if need be. At night, as Kelton snored softly beside her, Renée studied his face, committing each feature to memory. She knew he would sacrifice everything to be with her and their baby and couldn’t allow that to happen. As much as she wanted to be with him, Renée knew that one day he would grow to resent her for the life he had lost. And so, before Kelton ever knew he was to have a child, Renée packed her bags once more, leaving a hastily scrawled note on a pillow as explanation.
Her pregnancy was difficult, compounded by her displeasure over returning to Tennessee to live with her mother once more. She had weighed her options carefully and knew that she would need support in the beginning. Without Kelton her own mother was the best alternative and from the moment Renée had arrived on her doorstop, Jennifer Davidson had done nothing but make her daughter feel welcome. While she appreciated her mother’s hospitality and unquestioning guidance, Renée found herself hoping for the one thing she knew would never happen: for Kelton to arrive and rescue her once more.
Finally, after nine agonizing months, Emma Lillian Mae Davidson was born.
The first year was difficult and despite her gratitude toward her mother’s free babysitting, Renée was feeling smothered. Each time she set foot in the same diner that her mother had worked at she felt another piece of her dreams shatter. She was becoming exactly who and what she had promised never to be and it destroyed her. Though it was not the life she had ever envisioned for herself, Renée knew it was her responsibility to ensure that her daughter had something better – a real dream to aspire toward.
For a year she steadily placed half of her tips in a savings account while scouring Nashville for a job. It may not be New York but it was better than the sneeze-and-you-miss-it town they were calling home. When she finally found a job as a receptionist at a record label she was elated. Unlike the first time she had left home, this time she promised her mother that she would be back with Emma to visit at least once a month. Becoming a mother herself had taught Renée the importance of family. She may not have agreed with all of her mother’s choices but she did love her.
Their apartment was small and cramped but was still home. Renée knew it was not permanent. Her dreams had changed with her the arrival of Emma. She no longer wanted fortune and fame but a small home with a fenced yard for her daughter to play with. Emma was becoming more beautiful every day, anyone who saw her agreed. Their neighbor, Mrs. Schelter was especially smitten, charging pennies to watch Emma while Renée worked and eagerly inviting the young family over for tea on her days off. Renée enjoyed the company. Since the birth of her daughter her social sphere had shrunk to include her coworkers and mother. She could tolerate Mrs. Schetler’s attempts to set her up with her son if it meant she could converse about something deeper than Dr. Seuss. That was, of course, until she met Donovan Schelter.
He was smitten with her and her daughter from the beginning and it didn’t take long for Renée to fall in love with him. Their courtship was brief and perfect – picnics in the park and long, whispered conversations over a bottle of wine once Emma was settled for the night. Within a year of meeting they were married, Donovan happily adopting Emma as his own. They moved out of the small apartment and into a small bungalow. For the first time in her life, Renée was utterly content.
Emma loved Donovan from the beginning; loved the stuffed animals and pretty dresses he bought her. She eagerly anticipated Saturday outings to the park or zoo and though she was only four when they married, she loved the fact that when he was around he mom was a lot more fun.
Donovan was not wealthy, nor was he ambitious. He was content in his job as produce manager for a local grocery store and had no aspirations to move ahead. Coupled with Renée’s salary they had enough to pay the bills and afford small extras and didn’t understand why Renée fretted over savings for Emma’s college fund. He hated to see her worried because it meant he would have to listen to her repeat the same thing over and over without ever finding a solution – he preferred Renée when she was happy and kissing him, not stressed and talking.
“I’ve got it!” he announced one day, slapping a brochure onto the round kitchen table. Renée reached for it, curious, her brow creasing as she read the curved headline. “America’s Dollz?” she read aloud before dropping the pamphlet. “Why on earth would you bring this home?” Donovan walked around the table, draping his arms over his wife’s shoulder and resting his chin on her head. “Dontcha see? This pageant’s the solution to your problem. Says right inside that the grand prize is five hundred! That’ll pay for everything and still leave money to put away for her future. With ‘er purty face and big blue eyes she already looks like a doll. We can’t lose, babe. Larry at work gave me all sorts of connections and stuff.”
Still frowning, Renée reached for the brochure once more. “I don’t know, Donny, it just seems weird. There’s a lot of sick people in this world—”
“Not in the pageant world there’s not,” he interrupted with a wave of his hand, dismissing Renée’s concerns. “I went with Larry to one the other weekend. His niece was competing. All the kids loved it. Hey, Em! Whatdaya say? Want to wear a pretty dress?”
The first pageant had been a disaster. Her dress hadn’t been up to par with the other girls; her hair too simple and her makeup too natural. Despite Renée’s insistence that it was a sign Donovan knew it was merely an opportunity to learn more. Emma soon found herself outfitted with secondhand costumes filled with glitter and trimming. Her favorite was the pink cupcake dress with its short flouncing skirt and layered crinoline. Donovan’s friend Larry acted as her coach, helping her practice routines and blowing kisses for hours. Emma didn’t mind. She loved the attention Donovan lavished on her, especially after she had won her first title but that was the only part she gained enjoyment from. She hated getting up on stage with everyone watching; hated the way other girls and their mothers appraised her as she awaited her turn on the stage. It was cutthroat and harsh until the crowning. By that time there was nothing anyone could do to change the outcomes.
Her enjoyment came from the piano lessons she took every Wednesday evening from Mrs. Olynchek down the street. Emma took to the piano with ease. She had an ear for music and could easily play tunes she had heard over the radio from memory without ever reading a note. Mrs. Olynchek tried with no success to convince Renée to allow Emma to pursue music but Donovan would hear nothing of it. Her future – their future – lay in pageants. After all, beauty was what someone noticed when they first met, not how well they could play an outdated instrument. In an attempt to maintain the peace in her household, Renée convinced him that piano should be Emma’s talent and was able to grant her daughter an additional class a week.
For two years Emma’s life consisted of pageants, school, and music lessons. Friendships were limited to classmates and the odd girl who was not caught up in the competition. Then, on the eve of her seventh birthday, everything changed.
Her mother was at the local box store collecting various last minute items for her birthday the next day leaving Emma alone with Donovan. He had decided to give her a day off from practicing in light of her birthday and Emma had been happily playing house with her Barbie’s when he had come to her room. There was an amused smile on his face as he stood watching her and Emma didn’t acknowledge him. “What are you doing, love?” he asked as she tucked her dolls in for the night. “Playing,” she replied, not looking up. “Looks fun. You know, I know a new game that just you and I can play… You can’t tell yer mom, though. It has to be our little secret.”
Emma had eagerly agreed. She had loved secrets and it wasn’t the first time Donovan had let her in on something that her mother knew nothing about. Every Christmas he would show her some of the presents he intended to give her or sneak her a candy when Renée’s back was turned. Secrets with Donovan were always good and fun. Until this one.
The game was called “Mommy’s and Daddy’s.” Donovan touched her in places she shouldn’t and told her things she didn’t want to know. He only stopped when he heard Renée’s car pulling into the driveway. With a wink he reminded Emma of her promise and told her they could play the game again soon.
She harbored her dark secret for two years, hating the game but scared that she would get in trouble for telling after she’d promised not to. She began looking for reasons not to be alone with Donovan – school projects or extra music lessons. Piano quickly became her escape and Emma began composing her own songs so she did not have to think what was waiting for her back home. But Donovan always found a way to continue their game. Whether it was slipping into the bathroom while she took a bath or tucking her in at night, he was there, promising her that she was beautiful and loved. His words could not erase his actions and each time he touched her, Emma felt dirty and wrong until one day at lunch she confessed the game to her friend. Tears streamed down her face as she recounted each time with precise detail. A teacher supervising the lunchroom overheard and reported it.
It only took a moment for her entire world to collapse around her. She never made it home from school that day, Children’s Aide arriving to take her into their care instead. She was placed in the care of the Grants’ – an elderly couple who also fostered two other girls. While they were kind to her, Emma hated them because they were keeping her from home. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to see her mother or Donovan; why she was made to talk about the game she played with him over and over with the social worker. All she knew for certain was that if she had never said anything, she would be in her own room once more.
There was little room for questioning in the case against Donovan Schelter. They had Emma’s testimony along with her friend and teacher’s. Fluid samples matching his DNA had been found in her bed and on her underwear. Despite all the evidence and claims, Renée could not be swayed. She wouldn’t marry someone who would lay a hand on her daughter and would have known if he had – Emma didn’t keep secrets from her. When it had been suggested that perhaps, just this once, Emma had kept something, Renée had laughed and declared that it was nothing more than a game to try and make her pay more attention. Emma and Donovan spent a lot of time together preparing for pageants so it only made sense that they had secret games as well. It sounded preposterous to think that a game with a title as harmless as “Mommy’s and Daddy’s” could be anything more than the two of them playing house – a game that every child played. Even after Donovan was found guilty, Renée maintained his innocence and tried to convince Emma to recant her story. When the court-appointed chaperone reported this, the custody hearing was moved up.
Emma was sequestered to a small room at the back of the courthouse with a social worker. She was given plenty of crayons and paper to occupy her and the Grants had bought her a new doll to help her be brave. Emma didn’t tell them that she didn’t really play with dolls anymore and had thanked them and brought it with her. She felt silly carrying it into the courthouse like a baby but didn’t want to offend them. As she idly drew flowers in the garden and talked with the social worker she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was about to change and she would never be able to get her old life back.
No one understood why Renée refused to acknowledge what her husband had done to her daughter. The judge, like everyone else involved with the case, wanted to return Emma to her mother. Exasperated he had finally asked Renée what her intention was when Donovan was released on parole. With a bright smile, Renée had turned to him and sealed Emma’s fate. “He’d come home, of course. We’re a family, your honor and this misunderstanding won’t keep us apart. If you’re worried about him and Emma after this story she told don’t be. He told me yesterday that he’s already forgiven her.”
The ruling took Renée’s breath away – the state was awarded custody of her daughter and any visits with her would be sanctioned.
Initially Emma went to live with Renée’s mother, Jennifer. Emma had been convinced that she would finally get her life back. Jennifer’s home always smelled of gingerbread and she was able to take piano lessons once more. Music quickly became her escape and Emma’s talent was no longer denied. No one ever mentioned Donovan and what had happened to her except during her court mandated therapy sessions. Emma didn’t care about him or his game and worried instead about her mother. She hated that they never had enough time together – that their picnics always had a social worker watching each move as though it might mean something else. No matter who she asked about when she would live with Renée once more she received the same answer: “Just give it time.”
Renée and Jennifer planned the reunion well and believed they had covered every possible scenario. Both knew that Emma was better off with her mother and wanted to reunite them despite what the court said. Renée’s mind was sound and she had never done anything to harm her daughter and never would. All it took was a scribbled note slipping from Renée’s pocket to derail her plans and Emma to find herself in foster care once more.
Kelton Scott had spent his lift searching for the child he had never met. The love he had once felt toward Renée had become as thick and acrid as crude oil. He had spent too many years trying to understand why she had left and denied him a relationship with his first born. After all they had shared Renée must have known that he would’ve given everything up for her and their child. In the end he decided that was what had made her leave. She wanted him to maintain the dreams they had shared late into the evening and believed if she’d left he would. She had forgotten that she had changed him and that his future lay with her. Finding them had consumed him but every clue had resulted in a dead end. Renée had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand and left nothing but embittered memories behind. He poured himself into his studies as he tried to forget his pain. His father was ecstatic with the shift in his sons’ attitude, proudly telling everyone of the academic achievements Kelton received. With time he found it possible to open his heart to another. He began dating Meaghan Lewis during their senior year and married her that summer but he never stopped looking and Meaghan never questioned his need to find answers to his past.
Emma was sixteen by the time he found her. Gone was the sweet doll-like girl, replaced by someone who felt hollow and undesired. Her appearance brought her a lot of attention with the boys at school and her past gave her no reason to not give them what they wanted. The only piece of her past that she clung to was her music, taking lessons from the music teacher at her school as an extracurricular activity in exchange for working in the cafeteria once a week. Foster care had left her feeling dead. In the five years since she had been removed from her grandmother’s custody she had lived in eight different homes, being moved not because of behavioral problems but because there simply wasn’t enough room. Whenever she was asked Emma assured people that she was fine. Everything was always fine. The moment she began to dwell on her life she knew she would shatter. When her latest case worker brought her to meet Kelton she waited for him to shake her hand and disappear forever, not bring her into their home.
Both Kelton and Meaghan tried everything to make Emma feel welcome in their home. She had her own room and bath; designer clothes and car – anything they thought she could want. While she was grateful for their attention a part of her resented them and the lives the Scotts led. When Kelton urged her to change her last name from Schelter, she had agreed hoping that it would help her belong but it only alienated her further.
Her destructive relationships with boys continued. In each one she searched for someone who would love her and keep her safe – who would be able to see what she went through with the same confusion as she did. Everyone said that Renée and Donovan were monsters but she couldn’t bring herself to share that opinion. They had loved and cared for her and she hated that a part of her had enjoyed the game she had played with Donovan.
Kelton watched his daughter helplessly. He wanted to encourage her and rescue her from all she had been through but Emma was adamant that she didn’t need anyone to save her. He encouraged her music, secretly pleased that they shared that after none of his other children had inherited his passion. Most of all, he tried to give her a home and space. That was until he found her with a boy in his study. Furious he had thrown the boy from his house and demanded to know what Emma was thinking. “I’m your father, Emma! You deserve better than that punk. You should respect him”
She had stared at him with blank eyes. “No,” she said without any trace of emotion. “You were a sperm donor.”
At a loss as to what to do, the decision was made to send her to France for school. Meaghan had attended and deemed it to be a quality establishment. While Kelton was reluctant to lose his daughter, Emma was eager to get away and start a life where no one knew anything of her past.
if you could be anywhere, where would you be? I'd be four. Just me and my mom and everything would be perfect again.
character’s play-by: Barbara Palvin
