Kennel: P28
Section: Common Creatures.
Name: Nelle.
Breed: Some sort of wolf. Working on the subspecies.
Age: 2 human years. Maturity of a 15 year old.
Why do you want this animal?&What will you do for this animal?: He will go to a home that will take care of him with art and stories. I promise you he will be taken care of well and all of iBrevity's preferences will be lived up to.
Personailty: At first he was a very irritable, normal teenage boy who loved his mother. He was very close to her, compared to his father, who he was close too, but didn't really hang out with him all that often. After his mother's death, everything changed. He is touchy, every little thing set him off in anger or tears. He is emotional and doesn't want to do anything. He sort of.. died.
Likes:
Sharp things.
Cutting himself.
The girl he is staying with.
Dislikes:
Anything that reminds him of his mother.
Sad stories.
Annoying things.
Art:-
Other:-
I was lost in the shadows, forever being 'Emo Boy'...
[quad world, meaning quads with human feelings and role.]
Tears were dripping down my face, making my fur a darker shade as it got wet. Sniveling, I stalked through the midnight streets, making sure to stay in the dark, not wanting to be seen by anybody on this horrid day.
My paws were dragging, and my head was hanging low, only a few things could get me in this mood, and one of them had happened.
My mother died.
~
A few weeks later…
She was on my mind, all the time, I could get her off.
I missed her so much, and I hadn’t realized it ‘til now what it would be like without her. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her to death and always was with her, but the fact that she is gone now, I just never thought, or prepared, about it, and the only way I could possibly rid myself of that pain, was other pain, pain that wasn’t caused by her.
-
I was in class, and my pencil broke, I cussed a bit, being more sensitive than usual to the smallest things, and it scraped against my skin, leaving a small cut that didn’t even puncture my skin, but it hurt. A lot.
I stared at it, taking my mind off of everything. I was wondering why I hadn’t thought of this earlier, I knew in my sub-conscious that it wouldn’t help my lifestyle, but I could already tell I was addicted.
-
The next day…
There was already numerous cuts up and down my arm, but I didn’t care, although many of my friends who noticed did…
A close friend of mine (a girl), Keali, was staring at my arm; I could see her staring out of the corner of my eye. I made eye-contact with her and they she dropped it, “Why are your arms covered in scratches?”
She gave me this look that says she obviously knew where they were coming from, and in return I gave her a serious look to keep quiet. Luckily, no one had heard since they were either staring into space or listening to the teacher’s language arts lecture. When I looked back up, though, the teacher gave me a look that said to keep quiet.
What would this world be without ‘looks’?
~
One week later…
I stared at the ceiling, sweat dripping down my face and pain searing through my arms. I tried hard not to feel, or look, at the blood dripping down my arms and onto a towel I laid on the desk so my dad wouldn’t get suspicious.
My mother wasn’t even on my mind as I did this, which is what I loved. I wouldn’t have to feel the emotional pain that made me not think straight. Those pains made me want to crawl into a ball as tears welled in my eyes.
Since the pain was overpowering me and letting my heart beats pound in my ears, I didn’t hear my father’s diesel truck pull into the drive. Not until he came into the house announcing he was early did I take any notice to him. I cursed to myself and tried to get rid of my blood and the towel (which was a bunch of paper towels) without him seeing it, but it was too late. As he opened my door, his eyes widened more and more as the seconds went on.
The first thing that came out of his mouth was my name, then a long, screaming lecture followed about how I would be kicked out and I was defying everything and my mother wouldn’t have wanted this.
When he stopped, all I could do was cry. I grabbed all of my things (backpack, cell phone, etc.) and left, left my father standing there to take care of my little sister by himself.
~
A couple days later…
I went to her house, Keali’s, and her mother gladly accepted me into her house. She was a single mother who lived in a different town, but still enrolled her daughter into my school. She didn’t know my father, so I knew I was safe for a while.
This is sort of work in progress, but done for now.
by Skylarr. » Tue Oct 12, 2010 1:07 pm 
