Kazek Siewicz

[Kazek Siewicz]

SIEWICZ, KAZEK 

Kazek Siewicz Eighteen years old polish american No occupation, too shy to apply for jobs. Straight HEIGHT: 6'1 WEIGHT: 165 lbs APPEARANCE: Thick, wild, and out of control dark brown hair. Aside from a cleanly dressed body and outstanding hygiene, his hair protrudes out in different directions, and is often messy. As much as it bothers him, he fidgets too much throughout the day and grabs at his hair when he's uncomfortable, which makes it almost impossible for it to stay in the right place. He has dark eyes and an olive skin tone. With bags under his eyelids and chapped lips, Kazek often looks tired and distressed, but because he comes from a rather wealthy background he is always dressed in nice clothing and looks clean-cut from the neck down. LIKES: people-watching silence reading painting cleaning DISLIKES: pillows without pillowcases pain poverty spiders the dark being feared grass physical contact dirt men blood violence HABITS: grabbing at his hair biting his knuckles washing hands/clothes repeatedly over and over sleeping under the bed re-arranging room every two days FEARS: being abandoned being hated himself OVERALL: Gentle, obsessive compulsive, innocent, anxious, stressed, tired and paranoid. His hands must be washed, his clothes must be clean. Always. He changes his clothing close to 6 times a day and needs to wash his hands periodically, this is a direct result of a past trauma, and is his way of coping with it. He is extremely uncomfortable with physical contact, and relates it to violence. He loves the company of others, but he's often very quiet and struggles in social situations. When he does become comfortable with a person, however, he is likely to get extremely protective, and will remain loyal until the day he dies. He gets an average of 4-5 hours of sleep a night, resulting in the bags under his eyelids. He is obedient and well-mannered, a trait he has possessed his entire life, he has a hard time standing up for himself, and over the past four years he has grown more and more introverted, shy, and timid. HISTORY: "I grew up with a single mother. She is a very sweet woman, my poor mother. She was once beautiful, but time has not been kind to her. Still, she is beautiful to me. You see, because of the money that she had it was difficult for her to find a good husband. She was constantly seeking love, and because of this I was left alone quite often throughout my adolescence. I didn't mind though, she was always there for me when it counted. And I will be there for her, always, even if she can't understand why I had done it. In a predominately polish neighborhood, I grew up attending a public school. It humbled me in more ways than one and although it may be hard to believe, I did have quite a few good friends. Most were from lower-class struggling families and worked several jobs to keep food on the tables. Although we came from drastically different social classes it somehow did not matter, we were family. I often brought money and clothes for my friend Anastazy and his family, you see his father worked at the coal mine and farmed. His mother worked in the Deli, as well as fostered the mentally ill children. They were a nice family, with big hearts. They had almost nothing for the children, so I brought what I could. In turn, my mother was always given the freshest vegetables from the farm, and best cuts of meat from their Deli. The families all had a support system, supplying each other with what they could and trading amongst themselves to survive. I remember I could always walk into one's house and feel welcome, like I belonged there. The mothers got together every weekend to talk about their children and husbands and how hard their work was. And my poor mother, running, frantically would try to find her worst pair of clothes before she joined them, so she could fabricate stories about her work, her husband, and her child. Usually she loved to dress in fancy expensive gowns and jewelry to look nice for my father and other men, but when she went to meet the mothers, she would dress so simply. My mother was like this you see, she often changed her appearance, or the way she acted to gain the affection of somebody else. Why couldn't she just see I loved her the way she was? And even though the other mothers could see right through her, they listened to her fabricated stories of her work and husband and child, and accepted her. This continued for years until we had gotten older, and the cruel nature of the world set in. Annual safety procedures at the mine slowly grew brief and hurried. Anastazy and his father were blown to bits in a coal accident, the mine gave proper condolences and was shut down. The money stopped flowing into their household and his mother could not continue the foster business, and so she slowly lost touch with the world. My father passed away when I was nearly twelve years old, I remember him, but I never knew him. He was a good man, mother says. He loved me and her very much and worked hard to make sure we had what we do now. He was a business man, any other detail about him I cannot recall. My mother went into a depression for a year after his death and in this time I found that I had grown mature far earlier than any of my peers, and so we slowly grew apart. Death does this kind of thing to you. I suddenly felt responsible for everything, especially to take care of my mother after my father's passing. She had become delusional, thought she had found love again with a new man a year after, but she had not, I knew by the way he smiled. He always smiled. That smile that was fake, the smile that was forced. We both pretended, and we did it well. I pretended that I wasn't thinking these awful things. He pretended he was content, pretended he was in love with her. But he was not. He was in love with her money, and slowly he began to twist her mind and heart. I knew. He didn't have to explain himself, he couldn't. I didn't give him enough time. After too many nights of a drunken rage I had enough of seeing my mother, pulled out from under the bed to be beaten, begging forgiveness for her mistakes and begging him to stay. I had enough of seeing the bruises on her arms, I had enough of seeing her aging face, I had enough of seeing her cry, I had enough of pulling her blinds up and begging her to come out of her room, begging her to step out of the darkness and remember what life and love felt like. Slowly she began to resent me, I've had enough of the games and the lying and the cheating and the violence, so I did what I had to. She screamed when she found him. She wanted nothing to do with me, she was appalled, horrified, she couldn't understand that I had done it for her. That I was only protecting her. She couldn't stand the sight of me and after four years of the court system and psycho-analysis alongside other boys with severe psychiatric issues, she requested I be sent to a school out of state and no longer wanted to be my legal guardian. It broke my heart."

MADE BY AMLIN OF BTN AND GANGNAM-STYLE

[Kazek Siewicz]

THE LOST CHRONICLES OF KAZEK

Chapter I. the kill

1:25 am, he comes home at this time.

like a tiger on it's pray i am waiting on the staircase, and like a tiger on it's pray i am silent, and unmoving. it has taken me a great deal of time, energy and courage to get here. on the staircase, waiting for my unsuspecting victim. i've reflected on my heart and soul one thousand times in the last hour or so. i have decided that there is a great darkness inside of me, a darkness that i've never known to exist until this night, and a darkness i will forever be a slave of after this day. my poor mother is asleep now, as she always is this time of night. curled with her calloused fingers around a bottle of liquor, her breath is soft and weak, her room is dark, her door is locked. i pray that she does not wake until i am finished with what i must do, and i pray that she will understand why i have done it. I pray she will forgive me. 1:25 am, he comes home at this time of night, puts down his coat, his hat, takes off his shoes. 1:25 am, he comes home at this time of night, sneaks upstairs after his lying and cheating and stealing to get into bed with my poor poor mother.

not tonight. 

like a tiger i am patient, i have been waiting on these stairs for what seems like hours. my stomach is turning but i don't care. my neck is hot but i don't care. my ears are pulsating and my chest is pounding but i don't care, i don't care, i don't care. 1:25 am, and seconds feel like hours, dragging on and on and i can feel the intensity creep in, it's clutching my heart and telling me that i don't have to do this. it doesn't understand the way i understand, it doesn't love her the way i love her. it doesn't watch him come home, pull her out from under the bed like a rabbit taken from it’s burrow, beat her and relish in her guilt and suffering, trick her into thinking she needs him and use her for her sex and her money. 

there's footsteps outside now. every muscle in my body tenses. the air becomes still and the throbbing in my chest has ceased. The knob is turning, my eyes are fixated as i lurk from the dark. the shadows in my mind take control and every movement i make is based solely on instinct. i am not longer in control of myself, there is no way out of this now. the door is opening, but he doesn't see me, it's too dark for him to see me, patiently, so patiently i wait as he sets down his coat, his hat, his shoes.

and like a tiger i attack.

we both slam against the wall and fall to the floor in a sudden flurry of movements. he struggles with me now, squirming and fidgeting under my weight. his eyes lock onto mine and i can tell the very moment he recognizes what is happening. he screams but she can't hear him now, she won't ever hear him again. at this moment i am desensitized, clumsy and brutish in my movements, i violently strike him, and lock my hands around his neck. his hands reach for something, anything, but there is nothing. in a last attempt to save his own life, he punches and claws at my face, but my rage does not allow me to feel. after just minutes of struggling, his face changes color, and i can feel the sharp unshaven hairs of his chin and neck scratch against the palms of my hands. the noises he is making are awful. I'm scaring myself.

my heart was once warm but with each breath he tries and fails to take, i can feel it become cold, calloused and hardened.

his legs are working like mad, trying to throw me off of him but he is weak now. his tongue is working it's way out of his mouth, a desperate last attempt to catch air, and then falls limp and lifeless. so soon it was over, and in this time i remembered how fragile life is. adrenaline still pumped throughout my body and i couldn't stand to look at his face. i ran into the kitchen, shaking and convulsing, and vomited.

the blood.

it was everywhere, i tried to wipe it, the carpet, the curtains. i stripped my clothes, i need them off, they're filthy, they're covered with blood, there's blood, it's on me, it's on me, it's on me, the blood. i rushed to the sink, my ears and head pulsating and my body swung as i struggled for my balance. i threw my clothes in the sink, turned the water on, but it would not clean, i washed them over, and over, but it remained. i scrubbed my hands but no matter how hard i tried they will be from this day forth forever stained with the blood of a savage. 

or, was i the savage one?

that was the last night i slept.

[Alexx Keyson]

Alexx is what you might call a crime hound, a detective of sorts. When it comes to doing research, she can be as ruthless as those slimy crime rag reporters. Not to say that she is mean or rude to anyone personally - that is not it at all. She just knows how to hunt out the right sources and find the good meaty pieces of drama. It is a past time of hers, really - researching local crime and court cases, or even international ones, things that make the late night news shows.

She stumbled upon the case files for Kazek when she was doing some research for a project for school. She was supposed to find a case that represented a crime of passion. They were to find a case and make a ruling on whether or not there was malicious intent in the crime, and make their own case to prove themselves. She did not do her project on Kazek but she knew his court case in and out.

When she met him, she couldn't believe it. She didn't tell him that she knew about the crime. She found out that they had the same sort of obsessive compulsive qualities. She has a need to clean ans be orderly - something that was probably brought on by her trauma in the past. I feel like Alexx and Kazek might actually connect on one level or another. They probably met randomly - I'll leave the how up to you - and got to talking. Let me know what you think - and if Kazek would like Alexx as a friend....

[danny]

yes unnfff i like this cool cool. no one has really inquired or known about the case and although you said she would never talk about it, i think it would be really interesting if she just knew the whole pictures in the back of her head. Although Kazek might get a wee bit nervous if she ever mentions that she's in law classes, only because that's a side of his life he tries to keep himself completely shut off to. And he knows the kind of research they do in those kinds of classes.

Anyways, I think Kaze would definitely be intrigued to find out that he's met another sheep upon noticing her obsessive compulsive tendencies, ( sheep is a word he uses to describe himself and others who he believes are similar to him.)
He'd definitely love Alexx for a friend, he's a gentle giant really, and he feels far more comfortable ( as comfortable as he gets ) around females than males, and when he starts to notice similarities in their personalities i think he'd definitely be willing to open up a little more.
I think these two would be fun to roleplay out, maybe they could learn a little from eachother?