Post by Erik on Mar 15, 2009 10:41:49 GMT -7
This is UNCOMPLETE. Just a couple more things left to do, thought I would post it before I forget.
[Name] Erik Weintz
[Gender] Male
[Age] 20
[Type] Human
[Looks] Being 6’4” and weighing 180 pounds, Erik is a lot stronger and faster than you would think. His skin is a ghostly pale, contrasting with his dirty blond hair and dark brown eyes. His dark gray hoodie looks worn and faded, with rips and tears along the sides, the pocket holding the picture of his mother he holds so dear to him as well as the knife that was once his grandfathers. His jeans are just normal blue jeans, a bit loose and saggy, and just like the hoodie, has tears and rips on it in random places, the most noticeable one being the huge gash like rip on the left shin. [Pictures Will Be Up Soon, Promise.]
[Family] Deceased
[Orientation] Straight
[Personality Profile] Erik is a rather empty, depressed person, simply trying to get rid of the memories of his past. He feels very cold inside, as if his heart doesn’t beat at all, and just simply wants to be alone. His temper can be flared very easily, as his hatred for his father still burns deep inside him and can easily make his judgment even poorer then it is already. Anyone around him will find that he doesn’t speak much, and whenever he does it is sure to give them chills, as evil, dark thoughts cloud his mind constantly.
[History Report] (This is just a uncompleted “sketch.” I’ll be posting the fully detailed one later, since it’s bound to be more of a story then a biography, so you’ll have to excuse the lack of details atm.)
Born into a poor family, he lived with his father and mother until he was 8. They fought constantly, making Erik very upset, until finally one night, he heard a gun shot inside their broken down house. He peaked around the corner into the kitchen and saw his mother laying on the floor, blood dripping from the wound in her head, his father standing over her, the gun in his hands still pointed at her. He ran out that night, deciding that it would be better to live in the streets then to live with a homicidal, drunken father, and that’s exactly what he did until he turned 12, when he picked up a job cleaning tables at a small restaurant. His hatred for his father continued to grow deep inside him, as every night he would look at the picture of his mother he kept with him all the time, and swore vengeance on his father.
His life seemed to turn for the better as he met a girl when he was only 16, and fell for her almost immediately. They spent a rather large chunk of time together, as he finally felt happy, like there was life filling him once more, until he walked into her apartment to find her laying on her couch, dead, a needle on the coffee table in front of her, a strap on her arm. He broke down mentally, everything not making sense to him anymore, as he sat in a chair across from her cold, lifeless body, looking at her, tears rolling down his eyes, yet another person very close to him gone. He quickly sank into the depression he had been into as a child, and attempted suicide multiple times, before deciding that if he couldn’t kill himself, then there must be a purpose he has to fulfill. He quickly moved away to another part of the city, picking up another job as a stocker for a grocery store, living in a run down single bedroom apartment, barely making it through each month financially.
As he was leaving the store one night, he looked at a checkout lane and saw someone vaguely familiar to him. He stopped and stared, realizing that it was his father he was seeing, his temper getting the best of him as he almost immediately start moving towards him. He stopped as soon as he saw his father pulling out a gun, pointing it at the cashier and firing point blank, the images of his mother on the kitchen floor, dead, flooding his head once again, as the cashier’s body hit the ground, motionless. In his blind rage, he drew the knife he had kept with him since he left that house years ago, ran up to his father and stabbed him square in the back, taking it out, grabbing hold of him and putting the knife to his throat. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you here and now, give me one fucking reason,” was all that was heard among the screams of people fleeing the store before his father’s throat was sliced, blood starting to ooze out as Erik threw his body to the ground, the clock hitting midnight as bells started to ring, marking his 20th birthday. Killing his father didn’t complete him like he thought it would though, as he realized he had become the very thing he had just killed, and quickly fell right back into that dark depression. He had a rope tied around his neck, standing on a chair, just about to kick out from underneath him when the outbreak began, and quickly found this to be a way for him to redeem himself, not to a God in the skies, not to his mother, but to himself, for becoming what he had always hated for his entire life.
[Notes] To be Updated in a bit.