I knew him like he was a ghost that walked in my light at night. His eyes are down cast, his lips pressed in a firm line, as he waltzes around in circles just slightly off the ground. As he looms around, I couldn't help but admire the grace and beauty that was shown on his face. In ways, he was familiar to me, but how was I to know? His face was ghostly white, his body structure flapping in the wind. Foolishly, I did not think of that till after he was gone. I knew him by the figure that he shared with me; by the large hands that begged me to dance in their leather coated glamour, by his black tux tugging me towards his chest, his masculine scent drifting into my soul. At times, I would beg for him to stay with me - to keep me company in my loneliness - but he would leave in a quick gust. Oh what he would do to hurt me; oh how it seems he had my heart on a string.
So there I would stand, totally unaware of the dangers around me - staring into the cool summer night, wanting nothing more than to feel my father's arms surround me, to comfort me. So, as he came nearer, I held my breath and closed my eyes. "Father." I would say in a low whisper, but he wouldn't react to the words that I hoped would bring a response. And the only feeling that filled my heart was sorrow - he was burning my pride – my dream was becoming a nightmare. So then, I would smile - a brief, perfect, yet sad, smile - and I would turn from him to seek refuge in a mother’s gentle hold but the hold was not that of a mother’s love – it was as cold as ice and as hard as bricks.
In that moment, my life would no longer become mine. The alarms would ring, the showers would run and the bed making would begin with the rise of another day. Like a grudge in your heart, mine would not be so far, for I would slide from my cover’s warm embrace, and I would be sucked into the never ending tangles of living reality. My heart is heavy, my zest is drowned, and I find my feet can barely slide across the wooden planks. I feel enclosed in hatred; I feel the world drifting away.
Now I feel that my heart may no longer choose to beat as another door opens, another freedom chance begins again. I know this has happened, many times, but I am still in a daze, only following the tidal wave of bodies. Hope filled children scurry around me, lining up together as they begin smoothing their lice filled hair. Some fake smiles, some share broken tears, as strangers walk up and down the line; they bark orders, they jerk our earth drawn chins. Still, I don’t dare to look, and I keep my eyes focused on my feet. I hear their footsteps, their mature voices and I feel nervous; my knees begin to shake.
Straighten up, they would say, look your best, but I never really understood that. I never understood why it mattered that I pleased these people that would look at me like I was some piece of meat. There was definitely a lot of confusion as a child, and as I grew all my hopes, and aspirations were lost. Over, and over again. I was pushed around a lot. My hair was yanked from my head, and there were fists thrown in my face. It felt more like a war than safety, and I was royally sick of it. Instead of cowering in the corner, I began to fight back. I got in trouble, but that was okay, it was better than getting hurt.
At ten years old, I got adopted into a family, and I started realizing what it was like to actually have a family. It was hard to adjust, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I'd always think they'd send me back, but they didn't. I had a younger "brother", and two parents, but it never really felt like I was a part of their family. I always felt like the outsider, the weird kid that had weird dreams, and fantasized over better times, even though I was kind of living the good life. My new parents were fairly well off, and my new little brother wasn't too bad to hang out with. I was starting to appreciate what I had, but when things got good the nightmares would become worse, and the better I got, the more my nights would be filled with turmoil. So I stopped, and began to slip back. It was in these moments I got my name 'Scar'. I left my old self, and became this new person that no one really liked, per se, and I was okay with that because then the nightmares would either stop, or become good… and maybe, I even saw my real parents. I don't know why I had such a fascination with my parents, but I couldn't help it.
So that is me. I'm the roughed up kid that doesn't really give a damn about anyone. I prefer keeping to myself, getting what I want and then moving on. After all, it's better that way. It also helps my nightmares. That's my life. Fighting my demons, and getting through. I'm happy, and I like who I have become. No one is going to change me, and I like it that way.
For the record, “Scar” is just a nickname and he goes under the name as a way to not relive the memories of his horrid past. His nightmares are enough. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist in order to figure out where he has gotten the name. At a young age, the infamous movie “Lion King” was always a favorite of his. You would think he would love Mafusa, Simba, or one of the “good” character in the movie. Nope, that just wouldn't do for not this guy. He loved Scar and his personality intrigued him more than any other dismal character in the movie. Due to his favoritism for Scar, he developed more into Scar’s personality and learned more how to be like him and less like himself. His first practice of this new side of him started on his younger foster brother. The relationship between his brother is similar to Scar’s relationship with Simba, however his brother has witnessed what Scar used to be and now has to endure what he’s turned him into – a manipulative Casanova.
Scar’s main concern is his well-being. He’s intelligent, sophisticated, and charismatic. He’s willing to use anyone and everyone in order to get what he wants, and deserves, and if all else fails, he won’t hesitate into using desperate measures to push them into submission. Scar is not a coward, he’ll rather deal with the consequences of his actions than to leave the fight for another day. He does have high pain tolerance. Not the highest, but it’s high enough for him to cope with any pain he may endure, which has helped him through a lot of situations. He’s very cunning and manipulative. Underneath the sweetheart acts he displays in order to make people think he’s nicer than his brother, it’s all just an act, but he does it so well that it seems more realistic than fake. He's a fantastic actor.
Despite all the negatives, there is some good in Scar. He’s loyal to anyone that’s on his side. If you choose his side over anyone else, no matter if he’s right or wrong, he’ll definitely return the favor. Basically, if you scratch his back, he’ll scratch yours without putting a knife through it. He’s able to keep his cool in the worst predicaments, or so he makes himself believe, but there are times where he may crack. But it’s very rare for him to get fully invested into his anger, because he’ll walk away before he lets himself get too far.
If you wear him down enough and get through his exteriors, you will really get to know the person behind the mask of this “Scar”. He’s the safe that needs to be cracked, and his code changes with every person that he meets, making it harder for an individual to figure out how to crack and get inside of his mind. He doesn’t want to feel “weak” again; although he’s scared someone will come along and make him feel those emotions all over again, which is why he’s willing to do all that it takes to prevent it from happening.
When he first came to Ashwick back in 2014, Scar was homeless. He lived in Tent City with his two pit bulls that he took from his foster family home when him and his brother took off to California. When it came out that his brother had lost all their earnings, Scar departed from his brother and went to do his own thing. He used his dogs mostly for hunting purposes. He needed to learn how to survive on his own with no money, no real food, or nothing. This experience taught him a good lesson in survivability. He learned how to adapt and adjust to the environment around him, finding different ways to meet his needs. His brother came back in the picture to reside at Tent City along with him. During an intense argument, Scar wanted to spark an intense fear in his brother by killing his two dogs right in his brother’s face and warning him that he’ll be next if he kept coming around him. His brother must’ve took heed of his warning and disappeared off the face of the Earth. He never really forgiven his brother for losing their—his---money but he’s learning to slowly overcome it to some degree. With his hunting dogs dead, he had to rely on his charm to persuade different people in letting him stay the night at their place. Whenever he got successful in staying the night, he would take a couple of their valuables and go off to sell them to get some money in his pockets.
Being homeless had turned Scar into a big-time thief, almost to the degree of becoming a Kleptomania. Those urges had died down when he met a lucky lady that he persuaded and eased her into his charm. The girl took him in because they eventually became friends with benefits. He had a place to live. What’s the point of stealing when she practically opened her home up for him? Sike; he had a few minor setbacks where he’d stole some things of her and given them to other people who he was attempting to romance at the time. He met a girl named Beauty, who became his first little love interest. He didn’t love, nor care, about her like that. He just wanted her to fall for his charm and make her fall deep in love with him. While successful, Scar couldn’t milk it the way he wanted because he eventually met this naïve high schooler that he suckered right into his charm. With her being more financially stable than him, they got a nice little house together. They wanted to have a family and do all this romantic stuff together. It was more of her idea than it was his, he only played along because he had her wrapped around his little pinky. The poor girl was so naïve and fell so hard for his charm. They started to date and eventually got married. She was so deep in love with him that he took advantage of it, making her do whatever he wanted her to do. He just didn’t expect things to backfire when she started to show interest in one of her friends. Looking to break them up, he began to show a darker side of himself. He caused her to have a miscarriage, killed the puppy that he’d brought her, and verbally and physically abused her whenever she pissed him off.
Thank god, she came to her senses and finally left him alone. He hadn’t heard from her in months, almost a year now. While he still thinks about her from time to time, he found comfort in another friend with benefits and also his other multiple relationships that he had going on across Ashwick. He was just doing what he wants. Someday, someone’s going to knock him down to size and make him feel these emotions that he’s trying so hard to fight off. In recent time, Scar is back homeless, after not being able to afford the rent. Most of the rent was being paid from her end, not his. Now that she wasn’t in his life anymore, he couldn’t keep up with any of the expenses. Now that he’s homeless again, he’s back to being a kleptomaniac again, stealing whatever and either selling it or giving it to one of his love interests, in hopes they would open their home to him. He’s back at square one all over again. Womp, womp.