Vicky | twentyfour | SW England

I'm too old to be here.

I post Sims 3 only. And I'm working on some CC for it.

I follow most Simblrs back. WCIF questions are welcome, i can't promise I'll be able to find everything.

I try to keep my posting sims related, but i fail sometimes.
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Years trickled past, weeks passed before I’d even registered the days. I stayed in that same basement. Outing growing my intrusiveness I realized isolating myself from the rest of the kids was pointless. They weren’t the ones I wanted to punish, they were in the same situation as me, sometimes worse. It was a childishness I left with behind.

Talking to the other kids gave me a new perspective. A few had suffered similarly experiences, and as I said some much worse. Hear their story’s snapped me out of hole I’d built myself. Waking up each day seemed a little easier. They’d had built their own world in this place, no matter how bleak the outside world seemed when there’s someone else fighting to make it better place besides you, you can’t help be get involved.

Name - Paige

Gender - Female

Age - 21

Family - Mother: Dead  Father: Unknown  Siblings: None known

Height - 5’4 

Skill set - Hand to Hand combat, Defensive weapons, Gunsmith, Hunting & Skinning, Gathering, Scavenging,Food preparation and Basic first aid

Etymology - Young child

My Mom’s work keep me-us in that room. Now that she was gone I was seen as worthless, just as she’d predicted I would be.

I don’t know why Roman spared me the role of my mother but he did. Later I heard whispers that he let me stay because I stood up to him, I’d stayed and stood my ground. The part longing for a farther hoped me saw me as his child and saved me in some way. That he’d seem something of himself in me. It turned my stomach whenever I heard that.

That room of ours was a commodity, me in that room, alone was a waste. I got put where all other children where kept. It housed eleven other people, give or take, mostly around my age, boy and girls. The basement wasn’t kept to any standard, and no one had ever bothered to make it hospitable Walls were crumbling and the ceiling was caving it.

But the children had made it theirs. They’d separated areas with whatever they could, boxes, old doors. They were resourceful.

Aysi Pratch

He’s on the face of all the demons in my dreams