Post by Tré on Sept 11, 2006 14:53:12 GMT -5
Name:
Tré Michael Lowry
Age:
16
Gender:
male
Height:
5' 10"
Weight:
119
Personality:
Tré is a very nice person if you get to know him, but he really prefers to be off, in his own space away from everyone else. He tends to be edgy and nervous around other people.
History:
My mother was only 17 when I was born. Nine months before (December 15, 1989) she had been brutally raped and beaten by a man that picked her off the street, then dumped her off in some empty lot. She was soon found and taken to the hospital, and found that she was pregnant. The doctors asked if she wanted an abortion, but something stopped her, and I am here today.
Sometimes I hate the fact that I can stand here in this world, only causing my mother pain. I was a constant reminder of what happened to her that many years ago, and she treated me poorly because of it. I honestly did nothing to her. I never fought back. I never cursed at her. I never yelled at her. I did everything she asked, just trying to get her to love me... she never did. She loved her alcohol that she got deeply involved with after my first few years of life.
After those first few years, things were terrible. She went to re-hab, leaving me at an orphanage for a year, then taking me back even though she didn't love me. I don't know why she took me back... I guess she just needed someone to take all her anger and frustration out on. She starved me quite often, and beat on me when she was drunk. She yelled at me if I did anything she didn't like. She yelled at me when I tried to help with things. She yelled at me if I didn't help at all.
Finally, we grew apart and things were still for a few years. She got pregnant with another kid, and social security took him away, cause I didn't want him to suffer anything I had. Being 12, I had taken a lot of crap over the years, and that little boy didn't need any of it. My mom found out that I gave her baby away and beat me. Worse then ever before. She cut me up, and beat me harder then ever. I don't know how long it went on, but I remember waking up in my room, being very sore and having cuts all over, from broken bottles. Mustering up enough courage I fled from my house and almost made it to a hospital, but fainted from blood loss as I was asking for a ride.
When I was stable, I left the hospital and went to a foster home, where the family held me. They had originally said they would keep me until I was all the way healed, but I ended up staying for 2 years. Then I ran into my mom again. She had gone all the way through rehabilitation and seemed OK. She had been clean for three months, and the family let me go back to her, as she asked them. I met my new father, and sister. They didn't quite accept me because of how I looked and acted. So it wasn't the best life. I found out that my new father didn't have the best of a background, and tried my best to stay away from him.
I've always felt hurt because of the many beatings I had in the past, but living with that man, made me feel worse then I thought I ever could. I always felt scared. Violated and worried of when he would see me again. When he would come back... Finally, I started saving my money. I started reading about places that could keep me safe from my life. That could take me, help me out, and still get me through my life, with some normality. I found this academy to be one of the best, and transferred here. My parents don't know I'm here, but I have no doubt that they'll find me someday.
Picture:
Person in Picture:
My best friend. Lyle.
Schedule:
1st:
History
2nd:
Computers
3rd:
PE
4th:
English
5th:
Study Hall
6th:
Lunch
7th:
Math
8th:
Art
9th:
Languages
Post sample:
This is a post from another site, I'm just too lazy to make another. Lol
They walked down the hall, one arm per hand, his feet barley dragging on the floor bellow. He struggled and yelled, trying to get away. Though they held tight, allowing little room to push and shove. Finally he stopped, and rested his muscles. He had been struggling ever since he arrived.
He didn't want to be locked in the room. She might come in before they close the door. He had tried explaining why he wanted a room that he could get out of, but they only laughed and started to carry him down the hall.
He looked around, his deep light blue eyes showed a mix of emotions at this point. They were tired, angered, scared, annoyed, and worried. He had a mix of hunger and thirst as well. He hadn't eaten since he left the police station. They reached his room, the fourth on the floor. Opening the door he looked in. It was an empty room, with no items, just plain yellow, cushioned walls. He started to struggle again as they pushed him in and shut the door in his face.
He beat on the door for a few minutes, yelling and begging to come out, but the guards only laughed and walked away. He slumped down to the floor and stared up at the ceiling. Then closed his eyes, thinking of a way out.
What am I gonna do? There's gotta be a way out. I gotta get out before she finds me here...... before she finds me here.
