Katherine Plamondon

[Katie Plamondon]

Status: Fuselage

Name: Katherine Plamondon (Play-mohn-don)

Age: 16

Occupation Back Home: Student (Highschool, with College French Courses)

Appearance:





Nationality: Caucasian, Irish/French Canadian-American

Residence: Victorville, CA

Skills: Katherine speaks fluent French and is just learning Italian. On top of that, she is very artistic and quite the little actress. She picked up the ability to pickpocket from her younger years.

Weaknesses/Bad Habits: Since Katherine’s good at learning languages, she’s a grammar freak. No matter who they are, she will correct a person with bad English. It hurts her ears to hear the language mutilated and she makes that fact known. It can alienate people and can annoy the hell out of everyone.

Katherine has many cuts on her body. Some think she's a self-injurer, but she vehemently denies it. A few are very deep and have been neatly stitched closed by black sewing thread.

Frequent Moods/Expressions: Katie is very emotional child. She is depressed and volatile, frequently isolating herself from those who wish to help. She fights any help before caving in, although she really just wants someone to take care of her and make her feel loved.

Reason For Flight: Katie was on her way home from studying abroad in Australia: not her first choice with the foreign exchange services.

Item From Wreckage: Her worn teddy bear from her childhood. His name is Suitbear.

[Katie Plamondon]

Flashback

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
February 14, 2002.

The pain from his betrayal was almost too hard to bear. Almost. She looked down at her forearm as she split a scab with her fingernail, causing tendrils of pain to shoot up her arm. Katie smiled slightly and let out a relieved sigh.

To bleed by her own hand was almost like a release for her. In one aspect of her life, she had total control. No fathers were there to control her emotions and no medical problems were there to control her life. Only her. The fourteen year-old picked up a red-stained towel and pressed it to the wound. It was clean, but had been used too much to get the color out.

Once the bleeding stopped, she picked up the razor blade and ran it across a small patch of unblemished skin on her arm, pulling a thin line of blood to the surface.

It was a vicious cycle, but it made her feel. It seemed that these days, not much did. Katie let out a broken laugh as she remembered when her father tried to get her to stop. He'd pleaded with her and when she had asked him to quit smoking, he said "That's different." He'd seemed like he cared so much about her, while at the same time, he was molesting her. The stupid, betraying, son of a bitch.

The worst part was that she still wanted him to love her. Sometimes, she caught herself wishing with all of her might that she'd wake up the next morning and he'd be in bed with Mom. Nothing had happened and her family was happy. Every morning when she woke up, it was a hard disappointment.

Setting the razorblade down, she wrapped another towel around the new cut and began to cry, deep heaving sobs that came from the depths of her soul. She cried for the innocence lost from her childhood, the father she would never have, and for her family that had been split apart by her father's stupid mistakes.

He'd abused her for five years and had simletaneously told her he loved her and played the perfect father. He was a hypocritical bastard and she wanted it all to be a dream: that he loved her enough and hadn't been selfish enough to abuse her that way. He'd screwed up her life so much, and it hurt.

[Katie Plamondon]

"Do you want us to catch him or not?"

While sobbing, Katie looked up at the two policemen and nodded fearfully. "Y-Yes! I can't do it, though! I just can't!" She began to shake nervously, looking around with wide eyes. "I want my mommy. Let me see her! I won't do it!" She cried harder into her arms, feeling dirty and used while sitting at the interrogation table. All she wanted was her mom and suitbear. The policemen wouldn't let her. "You can see your mom after you make this call. We can't convict him without a confession, you know that."

Well...she didn't. She was twelve and had just told everyone about how her own father had touched her for five years. Katie felt dirty and used and all she wanted was to hide under a rock and never come out.

They'd eventually let her see her mom, but not alone. All she'd said was to only do it if she wanted to. When she said that, they took her back in and continued to try and convince her. She broke after awhile and, crying, went over to the phone with the policemen.

"We'll write out what we want you to say. You don't need to think about it." She merely nodded and dialed the number. Fear struck through her as her father's voice came through over the reciever. "Dad...I'm over at Courtney's and she wants me to talk to you about something." She looked over at the paper and paled slightly, looking up at the policeman, sighing. "You touched me, Dad. Why did you touch my..." She paused, "my nipple?"

He was silent for awhile, then became angry. "I haven't touched you, Katie! Why would you say that?" Before she could reply, he asked, "Are the police listening, Katherine?" Katie shook her head, as if he could see it, "No, daddy. I'm over at Courtney's. She says what you've been doing is bad and I needed to talk to you about it." He became even angrier, "Why are you trying to break up our family, Katie? Do you want us to be separate?"

She slammed the phone down and broke into sobs, getting up and running back to the room where her mother was, ignoring the shouts of the policemen for her to come back.

They caught up with her and grabbed her arm, but she began to scream, bite, and kick, giving herself enough time to run to her mother and fling herself into the woman's arms.

And as she began to sob brokenly, Katie Shaughnessy knew she was safe, at least for now.