VARGAS, marilyn christine

[Deleted]

MARILYN CHRISTINE VARGAS

FULL NAME: Marilyn Christine Vargas

NICKNAMES: Mare, Mari.

AGE: Nineteen

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Straight

STATUS: Single

GROUP: Student.

GRADE: Sophomore

MAJOR: Culinary

JOB OCCUPATION: Waitress at Hal's Diner

HAIR: Long, dirty blonde hair

EYES: Brown

SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: n/a

TATTOOS: A small elephant on the back of her neck. 

PIERCINGS: Her ears

PLAY-BY: Lili Simmons

LIKES:

• Cooking
• Baking
• The show Chopped
• The show Cupcake Wars
• Coupons
• Making her own money
• Challenges
• Knowing she's done well
• Negotiating 
• Humming

DISLIKES: 

• Showing weakness
• Failure
• Admitting she needs help with something
• Douchebag boys
• Sweet Tea
• The smell of cigarettes
• When women depend on a man
• Wasting food
• Being video taped
• Being broke all the time. 

FEARS:

• That Edward gave up his life and dreams for her, and that he resents her for it. 
• That Edward will wake up one day and realize he doesn't want to be in her life anymore.
• Turning into one of those women who depends on a man to make a living. 

SECRETS:

• She's never been on a date in her life. 

PERSONALITY: From a very young age, Marilyn has been independent. She knows she can stand on her own two feet, even when things are going against her. She doesn't rely on anyone, except for Edward. She can also be very stubborn. She's hard-headed, and she can often make other people angry with her stubbornness. She's a good talker, and she can usually talk things in her favor, such as getting a discount on an item or something like that. She can be pretty cheap, and she doesn't see the point in spending so much money on something that could be bought in an off brand or with a coupon. She can be sweet, once she warms up to a person. Just because she's good at getting her way by her words doesn't mean she necessarily likes people. She doesn't trust anyone except for Edward, and that took a long time to achieve. 


She's funny and a big goofball around the ones that she does trust, but people don't really get to see that side of her unless they catch her off guard. She's always living her life to make Edward proud. She feels bad that he dropped his life to take care of her, and she feels that she owes him. 

MOTHER: Lorena Hudson - 35

FATHER: Kerry Campbell -35

SIBLINGS: Penny Hudson - 18 

OTHERS: Edward Vargas - 32 (Guardian since the age of 12)

PETS: Bubbles - Pug

HOMETOWN: West Monroe, Louisiana 

HISTORY:
I was born in Louisiana on December 14th, 1996. My parents were young, very young. They were sophomores in high school, but they ended up dropping out to try and raise me. The only reason they kept me was because other's said they couldn't make it with a baby. They were always told to give me up or abort me, but my mother wanted to prove them wrong. I guess that's where I get my stubbornness from.  They both worked two jobs, but eventually my mom ended up pregnant again. It wasn't my father's child; it ended up being one of my mom's bosses' kids. Needless to say, my dad became abusive towards the little one who was named Penny. He treasured me and put me on a pedestal because I was his. He began drinking and cheating on my mom. 


The more they argued, the more they both worked. Neither of them wanted to be home because that meant they would have to see the other one. From the young age of four, I realized that I had to take care of not only myself, but my little sister as well. I potty-trained Penny and fed her. I tried dressing her as best as I could, but I was a child and my color coordination was a bit off. When I turned six, Kerry got black-out drunk, nearly killing Penny. I called the paramedics because my mom wouldn't. She was too afraid they would take her children away, but I knew that if she didn't get help, she would end up dying. They came and saved Penny, but that was the last time I saw her. The two of us were taken from their home, and the two of us were shoved into a home. 


I never found Penny again. I was bounced around from foster home to foster home. I was often told I was a problem child because I wasn't warm and loving like the other children were. I always took care of myself, and I didn't really talk much. I guess it irritated people. I would often cook meals for myself, which I ended up finding a passion for. At the age of eleven, I was placed in a group home. It wasn't terrible. They left me alone, for the most part. They let me take care of myself. The other children didn't really talk to me, unless it was to tease me about how big my mouth was. 


After a few months of that, though, one of the older boys started picking on me more and more. He would trip me down the stairs or one time, he cut my hair in my sleep. The house leader did nothing but scold him for it, and the teasing got worse. I decided that if they weren't going to do anything, I was going to do something about it. So, instead of going to school, I hitch hiked my way to New York State. 


The truckers I drove with were kind and understood my story. They took care of me for as long as they could before leaving me in the hands of one of their trucker friends. They bought me food and drinks. They even bought me little treats of ice cream or a trinket from a local gas station. When I got to New York, I had no where to go, so I went walking around with my backpack of belongings. I stayed on the streets for about three months until it became winter. That's when I decided I needed to find shelter. I found a beat up apartment, that I thought was abandoned. I opened the door, and I made myself at home. It was furnished, but I thought that the place had just been condemned or something. I fell asleep on the couch, and I woke up to a light turning on and a man sitting on the coffee table in front of me. 


I apologized and about left, but Edward stopped me. He wanted to know my story. I didn't tell him at first. I thought he would send me back to Louisiana, and I didn't want to end up bouncing from home to home again. So, he told me his life story. He talked for hours before I realized that I could talk to him, even if it was just a little bit. I told him that I had run away from my group home and that I thought the place was abandoned. I told him I would leave him alone. But he told me he wanted me to stay, at least for a few days while he figured out what needed to be done. 

Edward treated me wonderfully during those first few days. I still didn't talk much or anything. All I did was take care of myself. I made my own food, got my own drinks, etc. He offered to get me food or pour me some juice, but I just looked at him and sat still. Grown ups were never this nice, except for the truck drivers. After a few weeks of me staying there, he told me that I would have to probably go home or at least tell the cops that I was here. He didn't want to get in trouble. That's when my walls came down. I burst out crying. That had been the first time I cried in years. He wrapped his arms around me, and from then on, I opened up. 


Once I calmed down, I told him my entire story. I let him get me some packaged cookies and milk. I even fell asleep on his shoulder. The next morning, he applied to become a foster parent, and he started doing his training classes. From that moment on, his entire life was revolved around me. He petitioned to be my foster parent, and the state allowed it after hearing the words come from my mouth. 


Growing up with Eddie was the best thing that had happened to me. He let me cook him meals, even if they were unedible. He pretended they were amazing, instilling confidence in me that I still hold to this day. He always told me that I had the talent to do anything I put my heart to. He also butted heads with me, since I was stubborn. If he told me not to do something, I would usually end up doing it just to show him that I could in fact do it. But for the most part, he was the perfect parent. 


To this day, I still live with him, but I'm in college and working to help support the two of us. The older I got, the more I realized just how much he had done for me. So, the day I turned eighteen, I handed Edward a paper. I had changed my last name to his last name. It was the least I could do. Plus, I didn't feel like a 'Hudson'. Edward Vargas had raised me, and I felt like a Vargas. 

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