"Compassion? I don't know the word." Name: Snoh. Age: Twenty-one Height: 5'5 Theme Song: The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen
Backstory.
Isabella Harriet Cassidy. Her name, coupled with a picture of a smiling young girl, adorned milk cartons scattered across Louisiana. She became just another sad chapter in the stories of missing children, a tale of fleeting hope and enduring despair. While some found their way back home, Isabella vanished without a trace, leaving behind only fragmented memories of sitting in the front seat of her babysitter's car.
"Jenny, where are we going? Where's mom and dad?"
"Don't you worry child, we'll be there soon."
Isabella glanced up at Jenny, whose lips bore a faint yet unsettling smile. There was a darkness in her expression, one that Isabella couldn't quite decipher but trusted. Turning her attention to the window, she watched the sunset painting the bayou in hues of gold and crimson as they crossed state lines. In that moment, Isabella's identity seemed to dissolve. Isabella was no more. After thirty minutes, she succumbed to sleep. Little did she know, it marked the end of dreaming like a typical girl, living a normal life, and simply existing as a human being.
Jenny's gentle shake woke Isabella from her slumber. Blinking against the morning light peering through the windshield, she half-hoped to find herself back home. But as she sat up, she realized she was in an entirely unfamiliar place. Confusion knit her brows as she surveyed the forest surrounding them, the distant outlines of a house coming into view. Many many people moved about the farmhouse, their laughter and activity painting a scene of simple rural life. Isabella's emotions were a mix of perplexity and intrigue, a strange excitement stirring within her despite the uncertainty of her surroundings.
"C'mon, there's some people I'd like you to meet." Jenny says.
Walking hand in hand out of the woods, Isabella sensed the weight of eyes settling upon her. Shyness washed over her, prompting her to lower her gaze to her moving feet. Despite her overwhelming curiosity, she found herself unable to meet the eyes of those around her. It wasn't until multiple voices chorused "Welcome!" that she chose to look up. Young and old alike, their friendly waves and kind eyes offered a sense of reassurance. With a small smile, Isabella returned the gestures, even mustering a wave towards a smiling young girl. In that moment, thoughts of her parents faded into the background.
Walking through the crowd, Jenny squeezed Isabella's hand, "Make sure to be respectful, child."
Confused, Isabella shifted her focus to a tall, older man with semi-long, wavy brown hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. He exuded a certain charm and warmth that drew her attention. With a gentle smile, he knelt down and extended his hand towards her. Glancing up at Jenny for guidance, Isabella hesitantly released her grip on Jenny's hand and placed her own in the man's outstretched palm. A serene smile lingered on his face as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After taking a moment, he enclosed her hand in his. Opening his piercing blue eyes, he nods to himself.
"Hello child, welcome. I'm Mac, but everyone here calls me Father..."
Isabella remains silent.
"From this point forward, your name will be Snoh. Like Snow spelled with an H at the end."
Isabella never returned home. She is still considered missing many years later.
Current day.
Snoh blossomed into a striking young woman, her beauty and composed yet alluring demeanor catching Mac's eye. She wasn't exactly shy, just more reserved. Generous and a good listener, she stood out among her peers for her maturity and authenticity. But beneath her calm exterior, signs of inner turmoil lurked. Dark circles under her eyes and chewed fingertips hinted at restless nights and anxious habits, and vacancy in the eyes that reflected an internal numbness.
Raised on the farmhouse, Snoh's life had been easy. It wasn't until she was eighteen years old did trauma seem to shadow her every step. From committing gruesome murders to having her body violated by Mac and a multitude of men. Yet, amidst the chaos, she clung to a twisted belief instilled by Mac — that her suffering served some higher purpose. Despite the pain, she yearned for Mac's warped version of love and found solace in the farmhouse's embrace, a place where she could bury her guilt and seek redemption. Despite the horrors she endured, Snoh's sense of self remained intact. Memories of Baton Rouge and her childhood remained elusive, mere fragments of a past she struggled to piece together. Yet, even amidst the uncertainty, she found moments of clarity — moments where she dared to hope for a future beyond the farmhouse walls.
Snoh grapples with the conflicting desires to trust Mac's intentions and to escape his harmful influence. Once, he cradled her in his arms, promising protection from the world's cruelties. Yet now, his actions only inflict pain upon her, leaving behind a trail of wounds that refuse to heal. Despite the abuse, Snoh finds herself tethered to the cult, her sense of safety warped by a lack of experiences beyond its confines. In her mind, the cult offers sanctuary, even amidst the struggles and punishments it entails.
Every misstep is met with harsh retribution, yet Snoh internalizes the blame, convinced that any anger Mac displays is a consequence of her own actions. When he commands other members to exploit her for trivial offenses, she submits without protest, resigned to her fate. The sting of his hand no longer elicits a flinch; she has become desensitized to the cycle of abuse.
In the eyes of the Mac, she is but a cog in the machine, programmed to obey without question. Her autonomy stripped away, she exists only to fulfill his desires, no matter the cost to her own well-being. Despite constantly abiding, she dreams of a day where things don't have to hurt all the time.
Side Characters
"There is no perfect world, but I'll make one." Name: Mac Lee Wilbur A.K.A. Father Age: Fifty-three Height: 6'3 Theme Song: (Don't Fear) The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult
"Who knew the enemy could be this pretty?" Name: Colette Amalia Davenport Age: Twenty-four Height: 5'6 Theme Song: Expecting by Andy Stott
Backstory. Colette Davenport was born into a family of immense wealth, a fact she never questioned during her childhood. She grew up surrounded by the trappings of affluence—the sprawling estate, the retinue of staff attending to her every need, the daily security escort to school, and the imposing walls that encased her privileged world. From a young age, she glimpsed the promise of the future her father had envisioned—a place of pristine perfection, where nothing could ever go wrong. Sector One, where Colette spent her entire life, stood at the forefront of progress in technology, quality of life, and economic prosperity.
In the schools of Sector One, discussions often revolved around the other sectors. Sector Four, portrayed as the most impoverished, was depicted as a realm inhabited by individuals viewed as animals—barbaric, greedy, and deemed a threat to societal order. Their living conditions were dire, characterized by rundown homes and grueling labor in exchange for basic necessities. Sector Three, on the other hand, offered a semblance of stability and societal harmony, comprised of modest apartments and government employment opportunities. Referred to as the "Willing Working Class," its residents could attain a better life than those in Sector Four through hard work and the long hours demanded by most jobs, leaving them firmly in the low-income bracket. Sector Two catered to the standardly wealthy and middle class, boasting significantly better living conditions than Sectors Three and Four. It was home to many in law enforcement and the military, yet disparities still existed, though significantly less pronounced than in the lower sectors. Meanwhile, Sector One remained reserved for the elite few, accessible only to those born into immense wealth. Even residents of Sector Two faced stringent security measures and exorbitant costs to visit, making Sector One an unattainable dream for the majority. Colette's father designed the infrastructure of the sectors that every country in the world now uses to divide their people.
Colette found it difficult to grasp the extent of her family's wealth, her perspective colored by the lens of being a Davenport. Power held sway in their world—if someone couldn't serve you, they simply didn't matter. Her family lived by that creed. She observed her father's treatment of the household staff, the laborers in his fields, and even her own mother. Everyone seemed to straighten up and comply in his presence. Despite this, Colette held a special place in her father's heart. William Davenport adored his daughter, lavishing her with anything she desired. With their vast resources, there was little she couldn't have. She was destined to inherit his wealth and influence, carrying on the family legacy. While others faced strict standards, Colette could speak her mind, often eliciting a chuckle from her father. He treated her with tenderness, all the while instilling in her the belief that she would one day be the most powerful woman in the world. Despite the affection she received, Colette couldn't ignore her father's abhorrent behavior. In her teenage years, she found amusement in the horror that flashed across people's faces in her father's presence. He made her want to strive for the same.
On one particular day, everything changed. On her eighteenth birthday, her father sat at the end of her bed. He shook her awake from her cocoon of blankets and pillows, a departure from the usual morning routine. It was very early.
"Wake up darling, today is a very special day."
He instructed her to prepare within the hour and meet him outside the estate, providing no further explanation. Complying lazily, Colette hurried to get ready as quickly as possible. She took extra care to adorn herself beautifully for her birthday, ensuring she looked her best for whatever celebrations the day held in store. Stepping outside, Colette's gaze fell upon an armored truck, with a butler standing beside the passenger door, his hand resting on the handle. As she opened it, her father came into view behind the wheel—a sight that puzzled her. He rarely took the wheel except for joyrides in his cars. This departure from his usual behavior left her perplexed. Climbing into the vehicle, she watched as the butler closed the door behind her, exchanging a glance with her father, silently questioning the change in routine.
As she buckles her seatbelt, she asks, "What's this? Where are we going?"
He starts the vehicle, his smile wide but his gaze ahead of him.
"I'm going to show you the other sectors."
Present Day.
Colette Davenport emerged into adulthood as a captivating yet contentious woman. Despite adoring the perks of immense wealth—lavish shopping sprees, freedom from mundane chores, and a life untouched by concerns—she found herself wrestling with a profound sense of emptiness. This void was fueled by her simmering resentment toward her parents and the predetermined path laid out for her future. While she indulged in the extravagances of her upbringing, Colette couldn't ignore the empathy stirring within her for those outside the gilded confines of Sector One. This empathy unsettled her father, who viewed it as a potential obstacle to her inheriting his power. Even her mother, Marie, shared his apprehensions. She always outwardly projected unwavering support for her husband's plans. To Marie, Colette's dissent represented a disappointing departure from the expected compliance. On her eighteenth birthday, Colette embarked on a journey through the three other sectors with her father, only to be confronted with a harsh reality. While her father extended benevolence toward the struggling masses, Colette saw people who could be her friends, classmates, even her own parents enduring unimaginable hardships. Witnessing people reduced to desperation—scavenging for sustenance, succumbing to addiction—shattered the caricature of the "barbaric animals" she had been warned about. Caught between the desire to uphold her family's worldview and the nagging tug of empathy, Colette retreated into bitterness. Cloaked in resentment, her heart and mind grappled with the conflicting truths of her privileged existence, navigating the complexities of her identity in a world defined by wealth and power.
Colette is often perceived as a captivating yet unkind presence, exuding a charm that is impossible to resist. She relishes in teasing others, delighting in the art of keeping them on edge. With her freckle-dusted cheeks, ocean-blue eyes, and silky brown hair, she casts a spell that few can escape. Despite her allure, there are moments when she longs for someone who will challenge her, someone who will dare to tell her no and put her in her place. Until then, she will continue to navigate life on her own terms, reveling in the power she holds over those around her.
