FULL NAME › Jasmin ‘Jas’ Malaya Summers (formerly Santos)
AGE › twenty nine
GENDER › Cis female (She/Her/Hers)
FROM › Phoenix, Arizona
LODGING › Holly Boarding House
PRIOR EMPLOYMENT › Writer, Journalist
NOW PLAYING › Still by Bombay Bicycle Club
trigger warnings: death, murder, blood
No one could ever find a bad word to say regarding Miguel Santos. He was handsome and charismatic, kind and funny. Neighbours loved him, co workers loved him, friends loved him— but no one adored him as much as his daughter, Jasmin. Miguel absolutely doted on his only child, showering her in gifts and treats, but by no means was she spoiled. You see, the toys and fine clothes, the trips to theme parks and to Disneyland: they meant nothing material wise to Jas, who only ever wanted to spent time with her adoring father. With her mother a well known designer, Jas had always related more to her father’s humble backgrounds apposed to her mother’s glamorous world.
Jasmin still remembered the first night he left, as clear as day. She remembered her small hands clinging to the soft bed covers, her favourite teddy clasped under her arm. “I’m going away on a work trip tomorrow morning.” Her father had told her. “But I’ll be back in three days.” True to his word, in three days he returned, but even through her child eyes, Jas knew something had changed. Miguel seemed—- happier? He had a glint in his eye and a skip in his step. He had even returned with flowers for her mother, a sight Jasmin had never before witnessed. Her parents’ cold reception grew warmer, their fighting gradually stopped— her father’s trips continued.
Miguel’s trips occurred every few months, and upon each return home he brought gifts for his two girls: clothes, jewellery, perfumes— and neither suspected anything out of the ordinary– until the locket. Upon first receiving the gift, Jasmin was overjoyed. It was so grown up, so shiny, so beautiful; a silver oval shaped pendant held by a long silver chain. She remembered throwing her arms around her father’s neck in gratitude, hugging him tight, reassuring him how much she loved her gift. She put it on almost immediately, vowing never to take it off. It was only upon later inspection that evening. Jasmin felt possessed to open it, clicking her nail under the clasp, slowly peering inside. A picture of a baby met her, laughing innocently, his white baby grow smudged with— Jasmin sat up. Was that blood?
Telling her mother had sealed her father’s fate, and he was arrested that night. The blood on the locket matched a young woman, the most recent victim of the Arizona Ripper. It didn’t take long for the police to pick out the dates of her father’s ‘work trips’, each one perfectly correlating with the Ripper’s murders. As soon as pictures of Miguel were released to the public, the police were overrun with calls and tips; a search of their house revealed false licenses, chloroform, even photographs of the victims. The gifts he had brought for Jasmin and her mother all turned out to be taken from his victims: scarves, jewellery, handbags— all taken from dead women. The thought made Jasmin sick to her stomach, feeling violated, betrayed—— the man she had looked up to, had adored her entire life, was a cold blooded murderer, a serial killer, and only one of Arizona’s most wanted.
Though still only thirteen, Jasmin was painfully aware of the trial, damaged by each day her mother had to stand up in court, how they had to sit there and watch people speak against him. Miguel Santos, the Arizona Ripper: he was famous, one of the most talked about and reported killers of his time. Two days after his sentencing Jasmin and her mother moved away, as far as they could. For a time they resided in Paris, her mother changing their surname to Summers and finally starting up her own fashion company. As her company took off and her name began appearing in the media, her mother grew paranoid, and moved them to Milan with the intent of expanding her business, but Jasmin could see straight through the facade. She watched as her mother fell apart, a physical shake now a permanent defect of The Ripper’s crimes. The pair only finally returned to America when news of Miguel’s execution reached them. Knowing the lethal injection had finally rid the world of his deceitfulness, Jasmin and her mother moved the fashion empire to Manhattan, where Jas finally began to feel herself again.
As the years past, people began to forget who she was. Puberty had blessed her with a completely different face, her mother had given them a new name, and with her father’s death, Jasmin had been given a new, and free life. In the years that followed, Jas studied hard, educating herself at NYU, finding a journalism job upon graduation, and writing ever since. The one gift her father had given her that remained was her dark mind, perhaps inherited from him. Horror fiction became her flare, writing endless morbid poetry, short stories: her head often buried in Lovecraft, or King. As writing didn’t make much money when before the ‘big break’, Jas kept her job as a journalist, writing articles for a blog called ‘The Graveyard Online.’
Jasmin had never actually set food in Boot Hill, forever knowing it as her father’s former killing ground. Of course her editor had no idea he was sending The Ripper’s own flesh and blood to write a series on his murders, lodging her in the very hotel he had used for his… deeds.
❝ believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see. ❞
FACECLAIM › Shay Mitchell
AUTHOR › Bee
