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Lindsay Thompson RN, BSN, TCRN Chapter I: Grass Roots Lindsay was born into a moderately wealthy family in July of 1999. Her father, Chris, was a military veteran employed in the upper levels of management for a massive logistics company that often took on defense contracts. Her mother, Angela, despite a Masters' degree in Business, stayed at their home in Rockford Hills caring for her only child: Lindsay. As a kid, Lindsay was extremely well-to-do, minding her manners, chores and schoolwork with finesse and great promise. While her family was certainly not the wealthiest on their block, something she was often reminded of by kids at school - they never struggled to make ends meet. The child never went without, and even at 25 years of age she can still hear her fathers' words in her mind. "Lindsay," he said; heavy eyes staring the young girl down as he stood over her. "Get your ass in school, and stay in school. You're going to graduate top of your class, this family has a reputation to uphold.. Even your mom has a degree." All things considered, Lindsay's young life was rather unremarkable in most ways, other than a few heated weeks here and there where her and her mother were staying at her Auntie's house in Paleto because her father had gotten too friendly with his secretary at the time.. She still remembers the tears in her mothers' eyes on the phone with her father, the venomous words exchanged and the eventual cave-in her mother always displayed. It is of worthy note, however, that during this period, Lindsay's hair began to gray at the roots, a genetic predisposition passed down from her grandmother - she was nearly sixteen and dying her hair every three months to keep it blonde. She felt it gave her a better chance at making it into a D1 college if she looked the part of a studious, young woman with no remarkable qualities. "Just don't stand out." She told herself, wanting all of the odds to be reduced to one thing - her GPA. Chapter II: The District In 2018, Lindsay graduated top of her high school class, being recognized as the class Valedictorian. She spent that summer reviewing thousands of colleges, and set her eyes on only one: George Washington University. Although it wasn't in D.C. proper, at least as zoning was concerned - it was in Arlington, close enough to really be considered de facto D.C. During her first year, she was the perfect student. Straight A's, volunteering, electives, worthless activism - you name it. She did it. Lindsay had set her sights on a degree in Business, considering it to be an easy, low-risk segue into the same field as her father, and had confirmed with him several times over that he could in fact give her insider connections with those who ran the business. Her future looked incredibly bright. Nothing lasts forever, though - near the end of her first semester at school, small acts of self-care disguised as acts of rebellion began to seep into the young woman's life. Lindsay was all alone.. for the first time. She could decide who it was she wanted to be, and at the time - this was no radical change. Every so often, she didn't take her fathers' phone call, or she skipped a class here and there to spend the morning exploring D.C.'s rich culture. There was so much to see, and she felt freedom for once - no father over her back, no mean names degrading her worth to what she could do in school or other. It was here where the ground-work was laid for permanently altering changes. Accountability to her studies and family were moot, now. She had the keys to the kingdom, and she knew it. Besides, the idea of being a business drone never interested her much - it simply made her family proud. Chapter III: Trench As all young women do, Lindsay fell in love. A boy in one of her electives - creative writing - won her heart nearly immediately when she encountered him out and about. "Uh, yeah -" He said, taking a pull from his cigarette with a watchful eye of the blonde girl as traffic ran in a circle through Dupont. "Most of my friends jus' call me Trench around here." Trench challenged all of her ideals - he was so radical, and fired up. He wanted true action - not to sit and bitch, but to take it to the streets. Real activism. When he wasn't busy spouting anarcho-communist rhetoric and tagging government buildings with a large "A" symbol.. He was rather sweet, really. Her eyes would flicker over him while he described the sub-species of a plant they'd frequent on Sundays off 13th Ave. Him and his friends often congregated in this entire area, punks walking the streets of D.C. with a chip on their shoulder so wide you could see it from the swagger-laden walk two blocks over. Trench was inclusive of Lindsay, seeing her as a lost puppy that was filled with curiosity - but most importantly. Impressionable. You see, as time went on - Trench became more and more deeply encased in his activism. He ended up withdrawing from school altogether - the words he uttered to her on the block of 15th and Massachusetts outside of a dive bar around 2 in the morning still rung in Lindsay's head if she ever thought about him. "College is a fucking sham - it's what they want you to do. It's.. It's part of their game. You just can't see it." He'd say, running his palm over the side of his near-shaved head. "They're making a fool out of you, and you just sit there like a punching bag and take it. How's it feel, knowing your whole life is just a game for someone else?" His words cut deep. Deeper than she cared to admit to anyone, even all these years later. He became her everything. She was one of the most dedicated members of his small anarcho-communist group, not even fully understanding all of their ideals. She.. saw it as a form of love, undying dedication to her man in an act of self-sacrifice. When Lindsay's father called the next afternoon after their late-night conversation, she let it ring. Not that she was awake - the studious girl completely asleep after a cocaine and alcohol fueled evening with Trench and his friends in a garage somewhere in East D.C. That was really only the beginning, though. Things began to spiral, and only gained momentum - Trench began to delve into hard drugs with all of his friends, using it as a steady stream to pay their income. As time went on, Lindsay had forgotten altogether to even dye her hair blonde again - an ugly, mottled mixture of blonde and white. Tattoo ink stained her skin more and more with each week, work done by an unlicensed artist in a back shed. She was found most days strutting the streets of the District with Trench and his friends, heavy leather boots guiding them down the street to whatever was happening that day. Chapter IV: A Second Chance Days rolled into the next at this point - a vicious cycle of heavy drug use, tattoos, alcohol induced mania, and punk-rock. Lindsay began to be a bit of a preacher herself, becoming one of the more dedicated and vehement members of Trench's crew, even as his lover. She truly began to believe the things he told her to. Until one night, at a bar they'd took the metro to over in Georgetown. It began like any other Saturday evening - the usual pleasantries in Trench's friend Snot's garage. Freebasing heroin. Blaring Suicidal Tendencies over loudspeakers and sitting in a haze of smoke. Lindsay was glued to Trench, half-nodding off between songs before he'd gently pat her face to wake her up. Climbing into Snot's old van, off they set for Trench's favorite punk spot. A mess of flashing lights pitched in an industrial building that hosted a litany of D.C.'s punk, being the who's who of the scene. She can't remember how it began, or what events lead to it.. All she remembers is nodding in and out speaking with her friend, Becca. A fight broke out in the corner, some preppy capitol hill fraternity boys showing their neck in a place most unwelcome for them. She remembers hearing a crash, then the music stopping as the police arrived. Lindsay never did get her bearings enough to be coherent that night - but when she saw the body spread out in the corner of the warehouse, she felt sober in an instant. Her blue eyes stared down with lack of any understanding. This wasn't what the movement was about - Trench preached non-violence and true action.. How did it come to this? Snot grabbed her arm, yanking backward on her. She stumbled over her own feet, too high to even register what was going on - partially from the shock, the rest from heroin. She sat in the van with Trench and his friends, and as the tinfoil went around one more time, covered in a brown substance they inhaled through a straw - Lindsay took another hit. A mistake, on her end. She can't remember much after that, other than feeling like she couldn't breath. Her words slurred, and inevitably the boys didn't take her concerns serious - half out of lack of understanding, but the rest out of pure neglect for her feelings and presence. It wasn't until she collapsed that they scattered like flies. Trench pulled his phone out, staring at Lindsay struggling for air mid-OD. He dialed 911, and before he called.. His heavy boots were heard running. Lindsay was left alone, struggling to breath as her subconscious wonder if the last thing she'd ever see was a fucking garage-ceiling luminescent lamp above her. Luckily, Snot's mom came home early that night - during the men's escape she was passing through the house on her way to the garage to tell them to turn it down. Still in scrubs, when she opened the door the last thing she expected to see was a college girl passed out on the floor, barely breathing. She kneeled, and felt her pulse, eyes spotting the bunched up tin-foil with brown streaks - she immediately screamed and ran for her SUV, scrambling and panicking - the Narcan was in the glovebox. Bolting back, she pressed the spray into Lindsay's nose, compressing the plunger. She began to smack Lindsay's face, calling out to her. It was here that Lindsay began screaming. She can't remember much of her hospital stay, other than being quiet and seen by several nurses that went above and beyond to take care of her. The entire experience changed her for good. When she returned to Trench and his friends - they welcomed her with open arms and at first she accepted it. After her first hit of Heroin, she sat still, thinking. Her heart began to race with fear. She stood up and stumbled out without any words. Pulling the garage door open as they all call out to her, asking what her problem was, Lindsay tread down the street to the closest overnight CVS. Stepping in, she found a payphone and called her dad. All she remembers from the call is crying heavily, and begging for forgiveness. She promised that if he gave her one more chance, she'd see college through to the end. Chapter V: The Rush It took some greasing and string-pulling with everyone her father and her knew - but Lindsay had recovered just in time for the winter semester that year. Her father gave her some breathing room at first.. She'd been through a lot, and at this point he was genuinely afraid. Suddenly, Lindsay found herself one day soon sitting in a dormitory bed, eyes up at the ceiling as she digest her cafeteria dinner, thoughts wandering back to Trench and what her were up to. Not a single call, letter - silence from the man. She wondered if he had ever cared about her. It's often said that time heals all wounds. Lindsay didn't have time - she had a degree to pursue - but this time.. She went straight to her academic advisor. Her entire soul was compelled in a new direction: Nursing. She often thought about the woman, Snot's mother, that had held Lindsay's head in lap, pushing Narcan up her nose. The mother had visited several times during her hospitalization - something that can't be said for Trench. In a way, Snot's mother was the first person that truly expressed unconditional care and kindness for her, with no regard for her mistakes or past performances. And it was then, Lindsay landed at the foot of the GWU School of Nursing. She was behind all of her peers by nearly an entire semester, but with hard work and dedication made up for it. Her father required her to take on RA duties - supplementing the costs of her living, but also keeping her walking the straight and narrow. She grew tired of the duties, but knew she had a long way to climb. It was here that Lindsay decided to stop dying her hair blonde - rather, she embraced her signature all-white look she still sports, even today. This was partially due to laziness, but mostly due to no longer seeing herself the same way. Lindsay was incredibly withdrawn and tried to lay low, keeping her head down. She worked on her schoolwork, and minded her duties - other than that she'd only be seen at the cafeteria and her room. But one day was different - she met a woman in a study group who was kind, sweet. Well put together and spoken. She wore a crewneck sweater, reading "ΑΔΠ, Do or Die." - Asking about it, Lindsay got her first real introduction to the idea of serving in a sorority - Alpha Delta Pi's Alpha Pi chapter. It wasn't long that she spent brushing elbows with these women before she got the opportunity to rush the chapter - receiving a bid her Sophomore year. Here, everything changed. Lindsay moved into the sorority house, joined by other like-minded, studious and successful women. Lindsay finished her stay at GWU with a rather unremarkable record, minding her studies and being active within the sorority. She graduated in the top 10% of her class, and took her NCLEX-RN. Receiving a first-time go, Lindsay was now a Registered Nurse, holding a Virginia license at that time. Her future had much to be decided on, but one thing was for sure - she wasn't returning home to San Andreas, any time soon. Chapter VI: Rose City Bzzz, bzzz Lindsay sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. She looked at the clock beside her bed, yawning. 10:02 AM. Bzzz, bzzz Lindsay jumped alive at once. Holding the iPhone to her ear, she heard the voice of a young woman over the line. "Hello! Is this Lindsay Thompson?" It asked They'd contacted her back after the two weeks or so since she'd originally met with the Nurse Manager. Lindsay threw her hat in the ring for a staff nurse position at Providence of Portland Medical Center. After finishing school - and resolving to not come home.. Lindsay settled on Portland, OR for her next destination, known across the USA for it's beautiful rivers, good food and love for social justice. She'd never been, but had two friends from her class that were locals that'd recap stories of their life as teens. She'd contacted them to help get settled in the area with friends. Oregon was a largely unremarkable time for the young woman. She had a strict schedule. She worked Monday, Wednesday and Friday with alternating weekend shifts. It was here Lindsay really began to grow into the woman we see now - true independence and healing. She had no one to check in with other than her Nurse Manager. Communication between her and her parents largely dwindled during this time, and Lindsay spent most of her money each check on eating, or going out with friends. Lindsay began regular therapy sessions at a local clinic and began to truly unpack what it meant to be her, and what life was for her at this point. Lindsay truly loved Oregon, and all the friends she made and nights spent under the beautiful yellow glow of the Pearl Districts' tree lights. But eventually.. it grew stale. Lindsay began to lose purpose.. working more, going out less. Friends from her class had begun to marry, or have children. Lindsay spent this time largely single, and liked it that way. But still. She'd begun to become less and less involved, on account of everyone around her seeming to move on. The conversation she shared with her father after nearly two years of corresponding via email, or letters was tense to say the least. Lindsay thoroughly despised the man, but had grown to realize he was family. Anger and resentment hurt her more than him. So much time had passed, and Lindsay resolved to bury the hatchet before she lost her parents in years' time. Setting a date on a calendar, Lindsay began to contact med centers, clinics, and other healthcare facilities in the greater San Andreas area. Chapter VII: The Return to Los Santos Lindsay groaned, setting a cardboard box down. She'd never.. lived in Davis until now, but she saw no reason to fear it. Lots of people lived here, and to think herself above it, or.. god forbid, live with her parents? Out of the question. Lindsay was going to be independent, even if she was living off of her savings' account for a few months. Her apartment wasn't glamorous, but.. It was a roof, and she could just buy extra stuff to keep it locked up if need be. It's not like she had anywhere to be, anyway. Lindsay decided to spend this time productively - she worked on transferring her nursing license from Oregon to San Andreas, contacting the SABON promptly with the documentation necessary. Other than that.. it was just a waiting game. She'd met a few people during this time, starting to reignite her friend groups. But otherwise, Lindsay just.. sat around. She filled most of her days with watching TV, hanging out with her mom, or visiting the beach. She liked her life, but.. She got the itch again. She had an entire plastic tub in her closet of only scrubs and they just.. sat there.

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Rose Dyer from the suburbs of Bakersfield. A young nursing student thrust into the hustle and bustle of one of the biggest and busiest hospitals in the city of Los Santos.