Jeremy Stryder (Ex)
29th of August 2017
Transverse displaced fracture of the fibula; required immediate surgery
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to do something of matter. Something that stood out to me and allowed me to be happy. My Parents always told me that they wanted to see me succeed. I wanted that too, but in a different way. All they were thinking of, is how much money I would earn and how I would “present the family” or something like that. I just rolled my eyes in those conversations and told them whatever they wanted to hear. I knew I didn’t want to be a failure, but I also knew that I didn’t want any more of their stupid rich people bullshit. Like Charity Gala’s and auctions, piano & violin lessons that I wasn’t even interested in. But I had to keep the great family name and reputation going. I had to walk beside them, wear the most expensive and beautiful dresses, smile and never show that I was a rebellious teenager who just wanted to get away from it all.
My Parents were Entrepreneurs in the Car Industry. Even my Grandparents on both sides were well off.I guess if you have a wealthy family, it’s just super easy to keep it going down the line, you know?My Dad owned several Tesla dealerships and warehouses. My Mom would do all his paperwork and administration crap. The way my dad looked at his cars never reflected the love he gave me. I hate materialistic people that literally think they’re better than everyone else. I know I should probably just be grateful for the family I was given, but money can’t always buy you happiness. It’s especially tough when you are a child and want to play and go on adventures but the only thing that matters to your parents is their Entrepreneur circle of friends. It gets super annoying and repetitive to live a life like that.
I never went to public school. I was always home-schooled & everyday was super busy with some sort of lesson in the evening. Whether it be piano, violin, learning some stupid language that I hated or having my dad try and get me to win all the children’s youth golf tournaments. I was always expected to succeed. If I ever came second or third, my dad tried to bite away his frown but failed most of the time, making me feel like a total failure. Any wrong note in my piano recitals got me into shit with my Mom, who took it overly serious that I became some sort of pianist when I was older or whatever.I don’t think my Mom & Dad ever agreed on what they wanted me to be. I feel like they wanted me to be too many things at once, which it kind of turned into eventually.
I got to that age of fifteen or sixteen where they couldn’t do to me whatever they fuckin’ wanted anymore. I rebelled and locked myself away. Even crashed my Dad’s Tesla into a lamppost on the main highway in Atlanta.The whole circle of friends slowly started to realise that the Taylor’s “oh so perfect” daughter was slowly starting to fight her parents instead of showing off for them. It was a great feeling to see them all look at me with disappointment and anger written into their faces.I just wanted to be me. Not some fake-ass rich chick that can literally buy anything she wants.
I finished school with good grades. Not for my parents, but for me. Decided to go to med school and, I guess, make my parents proud in one way or another. Although the amount of stress they put me through, they were still my parents and I only had one pair of them. A lot of times I would try and talk myself into loving them, trying to see the positive side of things and forget about the way they really are. I moved onto campus and finally had some alone time from my parents, allowing me to do whatever I wanted. I spent a lot of time on the computer. Tumblr, Reddit and watching all sorts of daily vloggers on Youtube when I wasn’t studying. At the same time, my love for blogging was growing. I was writing about my Life and sharing it on the Internet. It got super popular and I finally had some sort of happiness in my Life.It felt great. I started doing semi-daily vlogging on Youtube and even that took off to a thousand subscribers or so. Not an excessive amount but enough to make me feel wanted.
About two years of med school passed. I was happy, but my parents weren’t. They got wind of the vlogging after my dumb friend leaked one of my videos onto their Facebook profiles without me realising. I hadn’t used Facebook in the last couple of years, since I wanted to stay away from my parents as much as possible. They let hell loose on me during my time off campus, visiting them back home. The arguments and yelling must’ve gone on for over an hour. I lost my shit, I absolutely lost it. I told them exactly what I thought of them for all my life. Neighbors started knocking on our front door at nearly midnight, complaining about the noise.
I ended up running off that night. Caught a train from my hometown Alpharetta back to Atlanta. Slept on a rusty park bench in the middle of nowhere. No clue where I was. I didn’t want to go back to campus and I certainly wasn’t planning on staying in that shithole with my parents any longer. I just had enough.
Someone heard me crying that night in the park. Someone called Lincoln. He sat down next to me and we talked for the longest time. I felt like me and him just connected and he shared a very similar story, told me what he was doing in a park in Atlanta at one o’clock in the morning.That night we both needed a friend and we found one in each other. Two strangers that literally had never met one another before.
After that night, everything completely turned south. I started rebelling against everyone, my family, my professors and my friends. On campus, I did things on purpose to get sent away or something.Looking back at the whole situation, they sure were my parents but I didn’t ever receive any love from them, so I was done trying to be the perfect daughter.I started letting my anger out on other people. Verbally. A few times even physically. I got caught beating the crap out of some guy off campus. I started doing illegal drug businesses and managed to get my ass booted out of medical school. My parents were beyond words at this point.
I was living on the street. I had no home at campus since I got kicked out. I had no desire to ever return to my parent’s heritage and just wanted to be left alone. I had to stop vlogging, spent most of my money on campus rent, random crap that I thought I needed and booze. Lots of it. I started betting and lost the last few cents I had left. My money had disappeared into thin air. I lost all care in the world. I just wanted to be with Lincoln and as far away from my parents as possible. Lincoln was the only person in the entire world who seemed to understand me and what I had been through.
Somehow my parents managed to track my cellphone down that I still had on my dad’s contract. Never came to my mind that he still paid for it. They both showed up with a couple of police officers who dragged me away from Lincoln and into their minivan. I was sitting in that office, my arms crossed as I listened to my parents rant about me to the cop who was sitting behind a big, important desk made out of dark wood. He pulled out the criminal record & track of everything I had been doing. The latest shit bottled ontop. I broke into Lowe’s one night when I was freezing cold and was captured on the security footage, resulting in another add-on to my little folder of brownie points.The decision was made. They were going to lock me away and have me attend a court trial. Somehow, after a very classified conversation with the cop in charge however, my dad managed to get my punishment down to social hours. I wonder what trick the smiley fuck pulled out of his rich ass entrepreneur’s sleeve.
He apparently had a business associate, or as I put it, a rich idiot from his stupid circle of wealthy friends, that happened to have a few agriculture businesses in southern Russia & Chernarus. I agreed to getting my ass over there and serve my social hours, hopefully build up a new life from my mountain of mistakes and, most importantly, get as far away from my parents as possible. I talked my dad into allowing me to take Lincoln with me, promising him that he would start a career or something like that. I wasn’t really at any point in life to make demands in my situation, but it seemed to work for whatever reason and Lincoln boarded the Jet with me the following week.
The family’s private Jet left around six o’clock in the morning on the 4th of July and after hours of flying, landed at Novigrad International Airport in Chernarus, where me and Lincoln were supposed to start our new lives.