"Pain is weakness, weakness is vulnerability, vulnerablity gets you killed." those were the words that had been drilled into my head since day one. Since before I could speak or stand. The words my father said to me. And not just those, "Emotions make you weak, boy. I refuse to have a weak son." were another favorite of his. He was constantly gone, and when he wasn't he was home trying to beat his words into me. I guess eventually, he did. I stopped crying, I stopped showing emotion, I stopped everything that would have made me, me. Many times I was called cold, or a robot at school. But what did I care? I had no emotions, if I did, I'd get beat again.

The time finally came when I was 18 and able to move out of the home that I grew up in, and I did just that, inwardly eager to get out of the house that had so many horrible memories. From the time that he had watched his father kill his favorite dog and then beat him for crying about it, to the time when his mother hung a rope around the old oak tree and wrapped it around her neck. He had never had someone who loved him, and never would. After all, who could love the emotionless killer that his father had made him? And a killer was exactly what he was. By the time he was 13 his father had him participating in Maho-related activities, mainly in the killings of people who pissed off the big guns. (P.S. Maho is the equivalent of a gang in my story world, and I'll finish this later, wrote this part while I was at work, and now I'm off break, so yeah...)
Demos Aurus "My wild beast" - 13 years ago