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Femme Fatales Third Edition – Jane Toppan

The need to be loved is a very basic staple of humanity. Each of us has yearned for love at one time or another be it from a parent, sibling, mate, or friend. When we are denied love, a hole of sorts can be felt deep in our hearts and souls but is normally either filled by someone else or is sewn up and scarred with anger. Sometimes though, an even darker feeling can creep into that hole and spread to the rest of you like a cancer. Eating at you, pulling at you, engulfing you until you are completely devoured by it. This is the story of Jane Toppan. A orphan who was denied love by everyone she had ever met who was supposed to care for her. That basic need to feel love mutated into vicious want to take the lives of others in order to feel needed and sometimes sexually aroused. Brought to life by Sergeon O’Dassey, meet the woman who was among the first of women to find the sick and helpless the best of victims.

My name is Jane Toppan and this is my story.
You probably recognize my name as one of the rare female serial killers. Or maybe we’re so rare a breed that you do not recognize my name at all. That’s fine. Men get all the attention. It was hard getting a man to give me attention, especially when I was anywhere near my “sister” Elizabeth. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

I was actually born under the name Honora Kelly in 1857. My mother I really never knew. She died from tuberculosis when I was very young and my father, well; he was nothing more than a crazy drunk. In 1863 at the age of 6 I was given to the Boston orphanage, which was technically the Boston Female Asylum, and lived there until adopted by the Toppans. They changed my name to Jane. Why I don’t know.

I also don’t know why everyone went crazy for Elizabeth. She wasn’t that f*cking pretty. Oh, so she was not a fat cow the way I was. I ate all the time. I was just depressed I guess. Men didn’t seem to like me and there were no marriage prospects for me save one. He turned out to be a jerk. I thought he loved me and we had something special. Yeah. I found out how special when he left me jilted at the alter. So what?

In 1885 I felt as though I didn’t quite belong. I left home for nursing school, and did quite well I must say. Eventually I started working at the Massachusetts General Hospital. I was pretty much on my own. I mean, I was self sufficient and able to work without supervision. What a primitive hospital. It was filled to the brim with mental patients and unwanted victims, much like the place where my father dumped me as a child. This place was almost completely unsupervised, and what a perfect playground it made for a person like me. I am sure your face is twisted into the “but, why?” expression, isn’t it? Well it’s quite simple.

You see, there were many patients I didn’t like. They rubbed me the wrong way. They were uncooperative, or they just reminded me of how pathetic my life really was. I soon started experimenting on patients with drugs such as morphine and atropine. These two medicines simultaneously offset the symptoms of each other. But the strychnine was my favorite. It would paralyze the nervous system, rendering every part of the body but the head immobile. One could think and speak, but not move. How helpless they were. Ah, such power!

At first nobody suspected anything because these drugs were generally used to calm down anyone unruly. I remember a lot of people never knew what I suffered through in my early years. They called me Jolly Jane, because I was always happy- at least on the outside. But I was never really happy unless someone was dying. That is what made me feel good, dare I say even stimulated. I loved this feeling! I derived a sexual thrill from patients dying. I had to increase it…I had to keep it going…

So I spent a lot of time alone with patients, making up fake charts and medicating them to the point where they would drift in and out of consciousness. It was such a rush to kill them and bring them back, just to watch them die! What a turn on, what gratification I just did not have in my personal life. Sometimes I would even get into bed with them, hold them close to me, and watch the life just fade from their eyes…

I was only at that hospital a short time, however, before I heard rumors that had started circulating about me, that I was stealing personal items from patients and falsifying charts. How in the hell could anyone figure out it was me doing these things? There was no security for crying out loud and I was almost always alone in my rounds. When they fired me I was so angry I felt like lacing all of their food with the strychnine! But at least I wasn’t found guilty of murder…at least not yet.

Happily in 1891 when I was 34 years old, I became a private nurse in Cambridge. This was a lot easier to do my worst. My services as a nurse were actually in demand and I had a lot of patients, most of who died. Then one day, somehow, I came back in touch with my foster sister Elizabeth, who I always resented. Well now, this was a victim a little closer to home now wasn’t it? It’s funny how life comes full circle. Elizabeth came to visit a friend one night and I just had to make her some tea…with a lovely spice of strychnine. It wasn’t too long before she slipped into a deep coma and as I held her, she passed away. Oh it was glorious to watch that bitch finally die…in my arms no less!

After so many of my patients died, the authorities finally caught up with me. Dammit. Even though I was arrested, I did not go to jail. Because I was a woman, I was found to be insane, thus not able to tell right from wrong. Well of course! Women can’t tell right from wrong don’t you know? Fucking men! They should all be poisoned.

So there I was, held for the rest of my life in a psychiatric hospital. They force-fed me most of my food because I thought someone was trying to poison me. Being evil does that to you, it makes you paranoid. It isn’t fair. All I wanted was love, and to be loved and wanted. This is what loneliness does: it forces you to make choices in life you probably would not have made, if only someone loved you…

Jane Toppan 1857- 1938

About Sergeon O’Dassey:
Seregon is originally from Allentown, Pennsylvania, but is now a NYC based full time actress and model. She is a seasoned actress and has been acting and modeling for over 15 years. She has had the opportunity to work in front of the camera and live audiences gaining her a great amount of training and experience. Her experience includes classical and contemporary theatre training as well as film/tv, having studied with Paul Sorvino, Donna Marrazzo, and Rodger Hendricks Simon. Seregon has been published in Playboy, Maxim and Stuff and has been on the Howard Stern show.

See Sergeon O’Dassey Vamp Page!

You can follow up with all of Seregon’s career updates via her website www.seregonodassey.com
 or her Facebook fan page: www.facebook.com/pages/Seregon-ODassey/55049623801


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