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malcolmbrights-a · 5 years

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Claudia Daviau / Paranormal Bio

tw: death, crime themes, bullying, brief description of corpse, adultery

At the age of two, I was adopted by Susanna and Ivan Daviau. Susanna could not have children and Ivan wanted them. They were both busy people who cared for me in their own ways, but were much too invested in their personal lives to really give me the attention I wanted. Since I was usually in the company of nannies, I found myself growing more attached to them. And while my nannies were great and helped me grow into the woman I am today, they all eventually left me.

One nanny, in particular, had grown rather fond of me, and I her. Her name was Lucinda and she would read with me every night. A majority of the books were silly; mostly Dr. Seuss and Shell Silverstein. While others stuck with me and helped shape my adult life. Although the detectives in Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes were fictional, I found their search for answers admirable. I began to pretend to be those detectives and began to search for the hidden truths and secrets found in the lives of people around me.

My mother thought it was a waste of time and wasn’t having any of it. She tried to ignore it, at first. In her mind, if she got me to try new things – piano, ballet, fencing – I’d get over my newfound interest; but I didn’t. The more she tried to push me away from my new-found hobby, the more invested in it I became.

During this curious phase of my life, I discovered my father would throw away the letters my mother would give him in the mornings. I learned that my older brother pretended to be the son my father wanted him to be, instead of thhe bored guy who smoked pot by the side of the house. I learned that my sisters were flawed as well. Most importantly, I discovered my mother wasn’t the perfect wife and mother she presented herself to be in front of her friends. She was filled with secrets that ranged from one-night stands to having a son I didn’t know about. A son who had gone missing, whose body had yet to be found. With all this information in mind, I finally opened my eyes to the fact that the world was flawed and that everyone made mistakes.

When I was thirteen-years-old, my mother sent me away to a boarding school across state. She also fired Lucinda, which crushed me like nothing else had. I suddenly felt lost and more alone than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I never forgave my mother for Lucinda’s loss, either. I began to hate her and made the effort not to reply to her holiday cards. I wanted nothing to do with her. I thought she was attempting to ruin my life.

During my stay at boarding school, I had picked up a few friends. The girls were my age, intelligent, and enjoyed my company – weird quirks and all. Being around them, I learned they held their own secrets as well. Though I could easily tell their secrets to everyone, I didn’t. I trusted these girls. The girls I didn’t trust, however, I did reveal the secrets I learned about them and they weren’t very happy about it.

One group of girls, who called themselves ‘The Gems’, hated me. After they bullied a friend of mine, I snitched to our teacher that I had seen one of the girls smoking in the schoolyard. I assume she got into a lot of trouble because during one of the free days we were allowed to roam around town one of the bigger girls in that group had ganged up on me and put me over her back. She took me to a nearby cemetery where the rest of the girls were. They gave me a talking to and beat the shit out of me. When they left me, I learned something new about myself …I could see ghosts.

[title]What I warn you to remember is that I am a detective. Our relationship with truth is fundamental but cracked, refracting confusingly like fragmented glass. - Tana French, In the Woods[/title]

I’m not bullshiting, either. I was no ‘Long Island Medium’ pretending to see things for money. I could actually see what I assumed were ghosts. The first ghost I ever saw came to me in the cemetery I got beat up in and she was very kind to me. At first, I thought she was some random passerby who wanted to give me a helping hand. But when I reached out to her, my hand went right through her and I freaked the fuck out. I ran right out of that goddamn cemetery and I never looked back. My friends all assumed I looked as mortified as I did because of what had happened to me with The Gems. I let them believe that, too. I was too horrified and too embarrassed to tell them what I had seen. They would think I was crazy. More annoyingly, I’d be made a laughing stock.

After that day at the cemetery, I dedicated myself to my studies. I adored my friends, but I no longer could identify with them. I had seen a dead woman and I could no longer shake the image away. I had matured from the experience and hid in my books and studies, instead of putting myself out there as I had before. Until that day, I did not know what it was like to have a secret I did not want anyone to know. I had dedicated most of my life to discovering secrets, and now I was scared of someone finding out mine.

Due to my vigorous study sessions, I graduated a few years earlier than my classmates. Graduating was a freeing experience, but I continued to see and hear things. I knew it would be something I would never be able to get rid of, so I promised myself that I would not let my little gift get in the way of how I lived my life. This was why, when I studied at Columbia University, I made the effort to make friends and involve myself in school activities. I put in lots of effort to be social, while putting in even more effort to make my way into a career as a psychiatrist.

After surviving my residency, I found myself working the emergency psych unit in New York. It was a lot of work. People were always in need of assistance. There were rarely ever any breaks because I was always on my feet. It was my job at the psych unit that made me realize how speaking with ghosts wasn’t as terrible as I was making it out to be. Some of the patients I saw would sometimes pass and I usually stopped what I was doing to try and communicate them. Like their living counterparts, they had secrets. The only difference now was that their secrets had the capability of helping them. I wound up helping a few of them, while a few others were stubborn and decided they didn’t need help, that they got a better kick out of fucking with me. And as much as I enjoyed my job at the emergency psych unit, I decided to change career paths in order to pursue a career as a police officer.

Working as a police officer was exciting. Even when I was doing nothing but handing out tickets and telling party-goers to turn down their music, I was having the time of my life. I felt much happier as a police officer than I did as a psychiatrist. However, once I was given the shot to work as a homicide detective, I got to combine my love of puzzles with the information I’d learned while studying psychiatry.

After about a year, I was given the opportunity to work on an interesting case with one of my colleagues. Her name was Rachel and she was beautiful in a Hitchcock blond sort of way. She was also incredibly good at her job, and for that I admired her. The case started out minor, as though it would be solved in a week or month’s time. But as we dove deeper into the case, we both began to notice things were more complicated than we assumed they’d be.

The mutilated bodies of several of our missing victims had been found in various parts of Los Angeles. We assumed the killer would have gotten bored after six murders, but we discovered differently about a month later into our investigation. With one of the victims escaping, we learned we were biting more than we could chew. The news was surprising to both Rachel and I, and when we reported our findings we were told to let it go.

Obsessed with the case, I began to get bored. All I could think about was victims I had tried to find who were found in various parts of the city. I was furious that we weren’t given any answers. Even worse, I felt like the answers were hiding right under my nose. It was a stupid move on my part, but I used my spare time to dedicate myself to the case. From a good friend who took over the case, I discovered that there had been a new body.

I walked to the scene of the crime, claiming to one of my old colleagues that it was important for my work. Of course the crime scene was still as cluttered and messy as the others, and of course, the body had been found somewhere out in the open. Like all the other bodies found, the parts of the victim I could see looked as though she was ready for a date – make-up perfectly kept, opposed to mascara stains, and well-styled hair. Not only that, but when her home was searched, none of her technological devices were found. An important thing I noticed was the fact that I shared similar characteristics of these young women – I had brown hair, I was tall, and olive toned skin.

With this in mind, I continued my own investigation by putting myself on dating apps and websites. In the process, I discovered the killer I had stupidly went in search of. Instead of the killer being a man, the killer was a woman. To make matters worse, this woman wasn’t some random woman who was bored and decided to go on a killing spree – this woman was Rachel. Since I had no back-up, Rachel showed me her true colors. I thought she was going to attack me like she attacked her other victims, but instead she shot me twice, leaving me to tumble down the stairs, before telling me to watch my back.

#c: claudia darling #maybe???#im in love w this old bio i found like......fuck #writing that all down would be DOPE #elliesfinishedworks #i wanna join a supernatural group when i have time......cause im love #or a want plots w this version of her #GOD

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