EVANS, jeremy stephen

[/i][/color][/size][/font]
r e m i n d s m e o f y o u. s o m a n y t h i n g s i s h o u l d n 't h a v e m i s s e d. t h e m o r e t h a t i p u s h,
and the more you resist. it's easy to say it's for the best when you want more while you leave me with less.[/color][/font]

Full Name:

[/color] Jeremy Stephen Evans.
Nicknames: Jer, Jer-bear (by his mother only).
Age: Seventeen.
Birthdate: April 11th, 2003.
Sexuality: Homosexual.
Gender: Male.
Problem: Suicidal.
Grade: Eleventh.
Clique(s): Nerds & Loners.
Classes:

[/justify][/blockquote][/size]


i know you're fine, but what do i do ?[/i][/color][/size][/font]
i k n o w y o u 'r e f i n e, b u t w h a t d o i d o? i 'm a w a k e, a n d t r y i n g, w h i l e y o u 'r e s l e e p i n g
like a babe beside him. i'm on the ledge while you're so god damn polite and composed.[/color][/font]

Height:

[/color] 5’ 8”.
Weight: 195 lbs.
Hair Color: Blond.
Eye Color: Blue.
Notable Features: There is a large series of scars across his forearms which show where he has cut. There are a few marks on his inner thighs as well.
Play-By: Alexander Ludwig.
General Description: Jeremy could easily be described as a gentle giant. He has a very healthy, muscular physique from working out often and eating right. He has short blond hair that’s usually very messy and a darkish yellow skin tone. He is of fairly average height for a boy his age, though he is slightly heavier than average due to muscle mass. Many of his teachers have described his smile as one that “lights up the room,” though they rarely ever see it. Additionally, his electric-blue eyes, though mesmerizing, hide behind long eyelashes. [/justify][/blockquote][/size]


and i know you see me, and you're making it ,[/i][/color][/size][/font]
l o o k s o e a s y. w h a t c o m e s a n d g o e s, i 'd g o w i t h o u t. i k n o w y o u 'r e f i n e b u t w h a t a b o u t
fallout , fallout , fallout, through the fallout. fallout, fallout, through the fallout. well now there's him,[/color][/font]

Likes:

[/color] Books, reading, museums, learning, hot showers, the quiet of an early morning, peaches, serving in volleyball, palm trees, naps, Super Mario, romantic comedies, chick flicks, summer rain.
Dislikes: Talking to people, changing in the locker rooms, misogyny, missing his mother, bullying, physics, lollipops/suckers, cauliflower.
Strengths: Compassionate, good listener, very intelligent.
Weaknesses: Self-deprecating, too nice for his own good, terrible at volleyball.
Fears: His father; drowning; bumblebees.
Disorders: Unipolar depression; deliberate self-harm; Stockholm syndrome.
General Description:

Jeremy Evans is quite a bit more than meets the eye. To most passersby, he looks like a typical meathead jock. Those who have classes with him know that he’s positively brilliant. But honestly, he is defined by neither of these attributes. He is happy about his intelligence, but he claims that he simply loves school and learning, hoping to get into an Ivy League school one day. Most people don’t know the real Jeremy Evans because he is very distrustful of people. He has a hard time letting people in. He is most definitely not rude to people; he simply is not the most socially apt person you might come across. He gets nervous around people easily and prefers being with a book to being with another person.

What most people don’t know about Jeremy, though, is that he is probably one of the nicest kids in the world. He cares very much about other people’s feelings, and this often turns into a double-edged sword. While he is concerned about other people’s happiness, he also cares about what other people think of him, and that often impedes him from making friends and breaking out of his social shell. The very few who have gained his trust know that Jeremy is compassionate, gentle, and, when he feels comfortable enough, he can very affectionate towards his friends. He is uncommonly kind, even to people who are known to be rude in the community, and he is cursed with the ability to see only the good in people. He is not the kind of person to hurt someone’s feelings easily, but he is so afraid of the possibility that he tries to speak as little as possible. And when he does speak, it’s often in jagged, stutter, uncomfortable speech.

But Jeremy is not aware of the fact that he is pretty much an angel. His humility limits him from taking pride in most things. Even when he gets a good score on his schoolwork, which is very important to him, he often chastises himself because he knows he can always do better. Anything less than an A means failure.[/justify][/blockquote][/size]


and now there's me. the secrets you give ,[/i][/color][/size][/font]
a n d t h e s e c r e t s y o u k e e p. a n d n e v e r t h e l e s s, i t 's n e v e r y o u l e t. t h e m o r e t h a t i g i v e
and the less that i get. don't tell me to fight, to fight for you. after this long, i shouldn't have to[/color][/font]

Mother:

[/color] Katherine Steele-Evans, 48, status unknown.
Father: Stephen Evans, 49, incarcerated.
Siblings: None.
Pets: None.
Other: Helen Marquardt, middle-school librarian.
History:

I was born in a little city called Shawnee, Oklahoma. I’m the only child of Katherine and Stephen Evans. Before he was sent to jail, my dad worked for Pfizer. My mom left us when I was eight years old, so I don’t remember what she did for work. My mom used to brag to people that I was getting straight A’s since kindergarten, and it always made me blush. Other stories she used to tell were about me not being very talkative in class, but for some reason, I liked to hug a lot of my classmates. My teachers would write notes home and say I was very affectionate. How things have changed since then.

The earliest memory I have of anything, anything at all, is when I was eight years old. My mother and father were fighting while I was sitting on the stairs. She came over to me and said, “Be good, Jer-bear.” That was the only time in my life anyone had ever called me that. And after she said it, she went right out the door and never came back. She left us. I miss her so dearly. I guess I try to be a good kid for her, because that was her last request. I stayed out of trouble, did all of my homework – I guess anything a parent would want for their child.

I began to cut myself when I was about twelve years old. My mother's departure really upset my dad. He was so depressed that he forgot to pay the electricity bill one month, a period of thirty days we spent in darkness. I had gotten into the habit of staying after school to help the librarian because I couldn't finish any schoolwork at home, what with no artificial light in the evening. At least, that's what I told my dad. The junior high library was sort of like my refuge. I was there an hour before school started and after school ended everyday. I didn't want to go home because I knew my dad would want to vent to me again, tell me it was my fault that mom left -- that it was all because of me he didn't have his 'Kitty' anymore. My father worked in the sales division of a pharmaceutical company, and he was a very convincing man. Sometimes, I even believed him. I don't really know what made it so intriguing -- the sharp, pointed end of the compass. By the time I was thirteen, I was officially cutting myself a little everyday. I guess I felt inventive, revolutionary -- who knew the tool was good for more than just drawing circles in geometry class?

It was shortly after that when my father started to touch me in certain places. He seemed to come around on my thirteenth birthday. Now that I was a teenager, he suddenly seemed a little more agreeable. He convinced me that he wasn't mad at me anymore, so I was willing to come back to him and be there for him. I felt that it was what I had to do in order to be a good son, let him touch me and hold me. That was the only time he was ever happy with me. If I didn't do what he said, he'd get mad and yell at me, tell me again and again that it was my fault mom left. I tried to stay at school as much as I could. It was my safe haven. But I still had to come home at night, and stay at home on the weekends. That was when it was the worst. Luckily, he only approached me in the dark, so he never really noticed the cut marks on my arms. Even if he did see them, I don't think he would have cared. It probably even excited him a little, but we never talked about it. Before I went to sleep at night, he used to undress me and rub me down in baby oil. He told me that was what fathers did to take care of their sons, and I believed him because he told me I was a good boy. And once, he even told me that he was proud of me. At the time, I thought he was being honest and genuine, and I can't tell you how much that meant to me. He had sex with me for the first time when I was fourteen. I didn't say I didn't want it. I never said "no." I did what he wanted because he was always angry with me when he didn't get to touch me, and I didn't like to see him like that. I think, now, that he was just playing off of my innate compassion; I can't stand to see people unhappy, and he knew that. That night, he told me that he loved me, and I believed him. I didn't know that he had video taped us and put it on the internet until I came home from school one day and saw him watching it.

The year I turned fifteen was a most horrible year. They started making us do group projects, and that meant I had to go to other people's houses and work with them. This seemed to make my dad very jealous. When I'd get home, he'd tell me he had been lonely for me, and that made me feel bad. He would say, "Come over here and help make me feel better, son." I never did anything to him; he always just did it to me. And after he was finished, I would sit in my bed and cry, wishing that I had my mommy to hold me and make it all better. It was so hard to watch my classmates and their affectionate moms. It made me really miss my mom. I was very sad that year, but it didn't affect my performance at school. I had made a good impression on the high school librarian as well, and I quickly became friends with her as well but she didn't know much about me. All that she knew was that I was good at alphabetizing and remembering the Dewey Decimal System. One morning, it was very early, and I was sitting by myself outside the locked library. The school was empty, and I started to feel very lonely for my mom -- so much that I started to cry. I had never cried in public before, and I am intent on never doing it again. The librarian caught me and she asked why I was crying. It was, in truth, a mixture of things, but I told her I missed my mom. I then told her that my mom had left me and my dad, but I didn't tell her anything else. She said to me, "You shouldn't feel bad about that, sweetie." And I asked why. She said, "How could she ever leave such a good kid like you? It's not your fault at all." I was still hurting a lot, but that made me feel better. I didn't cut that day.

The weekend after my exchange with the librarian was probably the most difficult one of my life. That was when I came home and saw my dad watching the videotape that he had made of us. I got really scared, so I ran into my room and locked the door. By the time he was upstairs, I was already cutting like a madman. He was at the door trying to be gentle and get me to come back to him, but I didn't respond. Since I wasn't saying anything back, he started to get mad and bang on the door. I think that was about when I started to pass out from the blood loss. His anger had exploded with him breaking the door down, but when he found me, he couldn't stop the bleeding. The next thing I knew, I had woken up in a hospital. I saw my dad there crying; he hugged me and said, "Don't you ever do that to me again." When the doctors asked me questions, I could do nothing but tell the truth. I did tell them I had tried to kill myself; I can't be a dishonest person. They prescribed me medication and recommended I see a psychiatrist, and they let me go home a few days after. It was the beginning of the school week still, and I wanted to go back, but my dad said I had to stay home and rest. When he brought me home, he suddenly changed from the compassionate father he was at the hospital. He told me, "No wonder your mother left us. She gave birth to a freak child." In a quiet voice, I said, "It's not my fault." That was the spark that lit the powder keg. After he heard me say that, he held me down and began to penetrate me. But I said "no" that time, and I told him to please stop. He didn't listen.

I returned to school for two days that week. On the first day, I was sort of in a daze. The librarian said she was worried about me, and I told her I was fine. By that time, I was pretty convinced that I was a very evil person. I had caused my mother to leave me, and it was because of my weakness and ineptitude that made my father do those things to me. I was clearly not fit for human life. The next morning, I went to school like I usually did so that my dad wouldn't get suspicious. But instead of going to the library as I had always done, shortly after the janitors had unlocked the school and turned on the lights, I went behind the school dumpsters and started to cut myself again. I was intent on committing suicide for the second time. The librarian had come to school late that morning because she stopped to get herself breakfast. It was only by a sheer fluke that she happened to stop to throw away her trash in the dumpsters after getting out of her car, and she saw me lying there. My secrets were no longer secrets anymore.

[Previous Doctor/Psychiatrist's Note: Stephen Evans, Jeremy's father, was in litigation for several months until the Shawnee County Courts charged him with multiple counts of statutory rape, incest, and possession and production of child pornography. Before going to jail in March of 2011, Mr. Evans was one of the leading sales representatives for Pfizer, the second-largest pharmaceutical firm in the United States. The court hearings were prolonged due to the judge's hesitance at tarnishing the man's and the company's good reputation; the defendant also had access to some of the best lawyers who gave the counterargument that the child, motherless as he was, was emotionally and psychologically unstable, and thus prone to telling lies about his own loving father. When Jeremy came to our firm, a drug test revealed that he had had high amounts of illegal substances in his system. This was surprising to us, Jeremy, and his former teachers because he claimed wholeheartedly that he had never taken drugs before. A further investigation of the Evans household revealed an extended series of empty bottles and syringes with the Pfizer logo on them. With this late-coming evidence, the court eventually found Stephen guilty, placing additional counts of reckless endangerment of a minor onto his record. It was later discovered that Stephen had raped his son multiple times, many of which Jeremy has no current recollection. There were also several accompanying videotapes of the sexual conduct, only one of which Jeremy actually saw with his own eyes. Recent findings also indicate that some of the videos may have been sold to or shared between potential buyers or some of Stephen's co-workers at Pfizer, thus creating a grave PR crisis for the company.

We recently had an intervention with Jeremy wherein one of our attendants was unable to turn off the television in time, and Jeremy was able to learn of the entire scandal on the news. He has been with us for about two months now, and during the first month, he was still quite shy but getting along well with our other patients. Ever since he heard about that on the news, especially with the passing around of the videos, he has become much quieter. We fear that he may be regressing again, and that he might be experiencing an illogical extreme of the Stockholm Syndrome. He told us that he wanted to go visit his father for his seventeenth birthday and he repeatedly tells us that his father is sorry, that he's a good man. He also feels that his father's co-workers are good people and that the passing-around of the videos is just a rumor. We have referred him to your facilities with the hope that you can better serve him.] [/justify][/blockquote][/size]


i know you're fine, but what do i do? i know ,[/i][/color][/size][/font]
y o u 'r e f i n e, b u t w h a t d o i d o? i 'm a w a k e a n d t r y i n g w h i l e y o u 'r e s l e e p i n g l i k e a
babe beside him.i'm on the ledge while you're so god damn polite and composed.[/color][/font]

Alias:

[/color] Anthony.
Age: 22.
Time Zone: MST.
Other Characters: None.
Code Words: STOLEN BY ALICE.[/justify][/blockquote][/size]


this template was made by alice. it uses the lyrics
for "fallout" by marianas trench. do not steal,
alter, edit, or use without her permission or she will
send the evil monkey in her closet after you. you have
been warned.[/i][/center]