Alt of
Ranavalona, general preferences found there apply.
Nineteen and freshly out on her own, Andrea is a bold and independent girl, ready to have her fun in a fresh world of freedom. It's not that she's been oppressed at home, or really has anything she's eager to get away from, it's just that... well, the things she likes are much easier to enjoy when Mom and Dad aren't around. They've always been good and supportive, but all the questions and conversations really grow exhausting after a while.
It was simple, small things at first. Kitchen knives under her bed. Boys and girls, disheveled and fearful, slinking out of her bedroom window and running off before any grownup could identify them. Flattened, ruined remains of tiny creatures staining the driveway. Grisly, horrible drawings of people meeting horrible ends, or stories she'd write about the ways she'd destroy the world if she had the powers to manage it. She'd been to two or three different psychiatrists, but it was easy enough to be pleasant with them, drag things out for a few weeks, and be sent on her way.
The vast majority of people she encountered through her high school years knew one Andrea. She's the cute little girl at the metal shows. She's the sweet, quiet girl in Pre-Cal, drawing in her notebook, or the one with the boots you can hear halfway down the hall. The ones she's brought home with her, though, know the rest of the story.
Andrea wants to watch you bleed. She wants you to beg through tear-filled eyes, not even knowing what you're begging for. She wants to know how hard she can stomp you before your skull pops beneath her heel. She wants to see to what limits you'll push yourself, and maybe how far you'll lower herself, just to make her smile. And if she can ever figure out a way to get away with it, what she really wants is to watch you die.
