Dominic Mae Hayes {finished}

[Dominic M. Hayes]

Dominic Mae Hayes !
"I wanna get lost in some corner booth,
Cantina Mexico,
I wanna dance to the static of an AM radio"

THE DAY WE MET WAS LIKE A HIT AND RUN
and i still taste it on my tongue

[/b][/color] Dominic Mae Hayes
nickname(s): Dom, MayHay, Nic, Hayes, Most call her Grayer
birthday: August 14, 1992
age: Seventeen
sexuality: straight
race:chosen
powers: Elemental Control & Memory Manipulation
grade: 12
major: Aire - Foreign Languages
Canon or Original: Original
[/font][/size][/ul]

THE SKY WAS BURNING UP LIKE FIREWORKS
you made me want you oh so bad it hurts

[/b][/color] Five zip
body type: In shape, toned, petite, curvy
hair and eyes: Long dark brown wavy hair, Pale steel eyes
clothing style:Simple and sweet. She doesn't flaunt anything nor care to do so. Not that she doesn't dress up, but she doesn't dress like a bum either. She cleans up like a gem, as do most people. Normally flaunting a pair of fitted jeans, some assortment of layered tank tops with either a hoodie or cute jacket of some sort over top.
overall appearance:Let's face it, Nick's short. Standing only five foot nothing and weighing in at only 102 pounds, she's a little girl.
Don't be fooled though.
Her long brunette locks against her sun kissed face make her pale grey pools have a real pop to 'em, always being the focal point on her face, though, her Calvin Klein aviators normally hide them. Her pearly whites, straighten not by god, but by man himself, having braces in her earlier years, making them as straight as a bamboo stick also are a great feature on her fascade, and that's if she smiles. Seriously. Nick is gorgeous, and she doesn't even know. Her style is simple and cute. She doesn't try to dress up or accentuate any part of her body. Having a scar that runs along down her rib cage, she's not the one to flaunt her skin everywhere. Plain and simple. Though, being blind helps nothing either. [/font][/size][/ul]

I USED TO BE LOVE DRUNK
but now i'm hungover

[/b][/color]
-Dirt bikes
-Guns
-Running
-Guitar
-Ballroom dancing
-Up beat / classy music
-Singing
-Soothing voices
-Touching someones face
-outdoors
-Other languages
-Water
-Pressure
-Dancing in general
dislikes:
-Ice cream
-Being inside
-Standing still
-Catty girls
-People who don't use manners
-Boring people
-Alcohol
-Pop
-High heels
-Bikes
-Rules
-Being touched
habits:
-Clenches Jaw
-While sitting, her knee always bounces
-Some part of her body has to be moving, like a fidget
-Bites nails
-Curls hair around finger almost all the time
secrets:
-Her real name
-She was 10 when she was beaten at school. Sent to intensive care for two weeks.
personality:Nick was one crazy girl. She's was loud and energetic, witty and a smart ass, and definitely wasn't shy. She was the kind of girl who would back you up regardless of the situation. She was super athletic and loved to be outdoors. Though, like anyone else, she had her moments. Mention a certain subject and right away she would close up. She got along with anyone and everyone. She was an extremist so to speak. She was the type of girl willing to try anything worth while to the max of her physical limit. Though she wasn't afraid to speak her mind, and she loved to talk, though Nick very rarely talked or even mentioned things about herself. Though, after the incident, her personality has changed drastically. She's still a smart ass and sarcastic as hell, but she's not that bubbly friendly girl she used to be. Now she's quiet in large even small crowds, snaps at people, and shies away from everything that comes close. Judging and critiquing everyone as if she was some stuck up rich bitch. Nick is still just as active, going for runs on a familiar trail or road, still dancing, though her ballroom classes had come to an end. She wanted something without a partner. [/font][/size][/ul]

YOU DROVE ME CRAZY EVERY TIME WE TOUCHED
now i'm so broken that i can't get up

[/b][/color] Claire Brea Thomas/35/Physical therapist
Step-mother:Joanne Sarah vandenBorn/40/deceased
father: William John vandenBorn/42/Deceased
siblings: Adam Tuck vandenBorn/13/Deceased
other family: None
history:Nick grew up with one rough life on the street. I know right!? thinking the street could be such a rough place?!? kidding. Step-mom, Dad and older brother POW! Dead when she was only three. Sent away to grow up in a foster home due to her parents nonexistence will they left, Nick was basically in the shitter. She had to earn her food, her money, she had to earn the right to live there basically. Begging others on the street, selling narcotics and anything else she could get. Sweet seven finally rolled around and Nick got the biggest smack to the face. Her real mom had found her. Emotions that were unknown ran throughout her mind, I mean, she was only seven, yet Nick matured faster then ever. She had too. her mom was beautiful, kind, and to Nick, perfect. With proper care now, Nick was living the sweet life. Her mom was loaded with money. Life was good.

By sixteen, Nick was still traveling around, though this time with her mom. Claires' job bounced from town to town, city to city, never staying in one town for too long, yet Nick always made friends, and was forced to leave them behind. Could she call them that? Friends? Was she actually a friend? no one really knew her. She always had different names, making them up as she got to each town, saying she did this or that, but not ever telling the truth. Only once, ONCE did Nick let her guard down, letting a boy, yes I know, of course a boy in. Dean was his name. Dark haired, blue eyes, gorgeous tan and a wicked body. She's blind...how the eff does she know what he looks like? Let's just say Nick has a vivid imagination, anywho....not only did Nick just let her guard down, she brought down the massive brick walls and opened every door and window for him. Then POW! you know her Step-mom?...and her Dad?...and her Brother? Yea, well Dean died the same way they did. How? Well, that's a secret you'll have to find out for yourself....

With that happening, Nick was put in another set back. Now snapping at her mom, saying irrational things that she didn't mean, but she couldn't help herself. Nick was going insane. Short tempered, she would always pick a fight with her mom. Spoiled? Basically.

Now, one almost two years later, Nick has moved on. Letting go of her past, pushing all the memories and bad dreams out, she's starting fresh, as most people do when they go to a new place. Nick is back in the game, and back in focus with a large sum of money thanks to her mom, she's ready to finish school, to close bad books and to open new ones. Though she's back in the game, she's not the same Nick she was two years ago. Things were much different, finding her sight impairment harder to cope with then ever. Finding everything in general harder. Things would never be the same.

{ooc} -.- Bleh....lameee history [/font][/size][/ul]

I'M CHECKING INTO REHAB
cause everything that we had didn't mean a thing to you

[/b][/color] Tree!
role-playing experience: One Billion! Muahaha! Nah, 'bout three? four?
age: Seventeen =]
secret phrase: Flawed =]
anything else: Zip
RP sample:"Why can't I?!" Grayer screamed.
"You know damn well why!" her real mom, Claire, yelled back.
The five foot zip girl stormed down the hallway and to her room, angry expression plastered to her face. Pale steel blue eyes held no emotion, as brows furrowed deep. Tears welled up, but Grayer forced them back, she never cried, and she never would. Hard done by? I think not.

Hands fumbled along the familiar walls as she reached her room, trembling hand covered the door knob twisting it, opening the door wide. She stepped in and turned around, facing the end of the hallway, where she knew her mom was. Without hesitation, she slammed the door, sending a small picture that was hanging on the wall, crashing to the ground. Glass broke and the picture fell out. Head turned towards where the crashing noise came from. Dropping to her knees, Grayer fumbled around, hands sprawled across the floor in search of the picture. "Shit!" she whispered under her breath as she brought her hand back, cradling it to her chest. Her other hand felt over the other, bits of glass were felt in her palm. She winced at the slight pain. Fingers rubbed together, feeling the almost water like substitute, she knew what it was, blood. Deep sigh escaped past her lightly tainted lips as she stood up, careful of where she placed her feet, feeling around with each foot before putting full weight on it. Walking around the glass accident, she made it to her bathroom. Counting the steps in her head, her one good hand reached out, feeling the sink. She turned the stainless steel tap on, cool water running down the drain. She stuffed her blood ridden hand under the water, as the iron like smell filled her nose and throat. She held her breath momentarily as the water washed the blood away.

Reaching for the drawer, she pulled out a pair of tweezers. Hand shook as she placed the grip tweezers over each piece of glass, pulling them out ever so carefully. Releasing the tension on the tweezers, small clanks were heard as the glass hit the ivory sink. Pulling the last piece out, Grayer rinsed her hand once more, and pulled a nearby towel around it. Exhausted sigh released from her mouth as tears once again welled up in her steel blue eyes. Stepping backwards, her back hit the wall and she slunk down, falling to the floor.

Three days had passed, the glass had been cleaned up, blood mopped up from the hard wood floors. Silence filled the house as neither Grayer nor Claire spoke at one another, silently passing each other, eating without a word spoken. Monday was looming around, 'bloody great, just shoot me now, i'm like an old dog in pain, just put me down' Grayer thought silently to herself. First days of school were always the worst, but in her case, it would be that times twenty. Grayer went to bed early that night, spending most of her time thinking about what tomorrow would be like. [/font][/size][/ul]

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this was made by CHLOEOATS of caution 2.0. do not remove this tag, no matter what. lyrics are from love drunk by boys like girls.

[Valerie Lynn Monroe]

ACCEPTED! Go make your claims!