reply to post by desertdreamer
Just finished typing up the intro/background for my character. I'm going to copy/paste it here so it'll be easier to figure out when to bring her
into the story. If there's anything that you think needs to be tweaked or anything that should be added to tie it in to the story-line better let me
Emma Fields sighed audibly as she sat staring out her father’s kitchen window. She’d heard the same speech several times over the last year and
knew what to say and when to say it without even listening. As much as she wanted to just get up and walk out, she knew she was obligated to sit and
wait for the speech to end as it always did: he’d say he wasn’t bailing her out anymore, and she’d swear it wouldn’t happen again.
“Emma, are you even listening to what I am saying to you?” Robert asked. “I can’t afford to keep bailing you out of jail every time you decide
to break into a warehouse.”
Still staring out the window she answered, “Yes, Dad. I heard you. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“I just don’t understand what’s happened to you,” he said. “You’re 19 years old. You should be in college right now, not skulking around
at all hours of the night breaking into buildings. If your mother were here…”
She stood up abruptly, her chair clattering backwards across the room, and started for the door. Voice harsh with anger she said, “Well she’s not,
is she? She died almost a year ago remember? I have to go.”
“Emma… Emma, get back here,” he called after her. But it was too late; she had jumped in her car and slammed it into reverse before he even made
it to the front door.
That was new. He’d never brought her mother up during these little speeches before. Emma didn’t like to think about her, it brought back too many
fond memories followed by the harsh reality that there wouldn’t be any more memories. It was much easier to just not think about it.
She blamed herself for her mother’s death, though she’d never admit it to anyone. It had been raining the night her mother died. She was running
late coming home from work and Emma had been angry with her for not making it to her gymnastics competition. An oncoming driver swerved to avoid a
section of road that was already flooded and hit her head on, killing both of them instantly.
“Get a hold of yourself, Emma,” she said aloud. “Nothing you can do about it now, so stop dwelling.”
Glancing around she saw a Wal-Mart coming up and flipped on her turn signal. She hadn’t been able to stash her lock picks before the cops showed up
the night before so she’d have to make a new set. Once inside, she was headed for the hardware department to pick up a few tools that would suit her
purposes when the camping gear caught her eye.
On a whim, she grabbed an Ozark tent, a sleeping bag, water purifying tablets, and other gear she knew she'd need. Month-long camping trips had been
common in her family up until her mother died. Her father had always insisted that everyone should know how to survive away from civilization for an
extended period of time, "just in case".
She paid for everything with a credit card she’d swiped from her father’s wallet a week before that he still hadn’t noticed was missing yet. By
the time she’d made it back to her car, a plan had been formed. There were plenty of areas around Carta Valley that were sparsely populated and she
needed some time alone.