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@encorc ░ CLOSED STARTER

The events that have passed are a whirlwind, as the mangled boy paces in his childhood room. He remembers a lot but some things are hard to come by. For the most part-- he remembers too late. He was deserted, deemed unworthy by the one person that he felt his soul pull towards. The boy was afraid and weak-- yet every inch of this small home held a different memory. All of which were simple, his Mother cooking-- watching television, maybe her smoking in her room. It isn’t until the boy is inside his bedroom that he grew up in. The room has a stigma, shouldn’t he feel safe? Zoe called this H O M E, but those eager hands were what set him under--- spiraling. ABUSED, He was used and spent. She did wrong-- she tested his abilities, looked at the monster as a gentle being like he once was.

Dark chestnut orbs linger from the red stained carpet to his Mother’s lifeless body-- muffles sound, foreign for him for the most part. He was foolish, he never ran and he never fought it. It wasn’t until his broken thoughts were a whirlwind playing and replaying every minute of that night. Finally he spoke up-- he got that conviction that was so needed for his life, it was much later then he would like and it opened a part of him. He now possesses an anger he never experienced, a H A T R E D and for none other then his own Mother.

Breath is heaving as he is feeling suddenly trapped and more then anything afraid of himself. He needs help, or maybe to be brought back to that horrible darkness. One thing was for sure, Kyle Spencer died that day-- so who is awake now? Can he ever be back to normal? Bare feet move over the carpet with an unsure destination but it was anywhere but this claustrophobic home. The night is cold and it is hardly stunning to his demon limbs. He stumbles--- fights to walk straight on the uneven grass with his messed equilibrium.

Dark chocolate hues are searching through the night sky the wind enough to cause foreign feet to rock to the side. A low grunt behind hi plain expression, he can’t feel any emotion right now-- if he did he would break down. The monster is subsiding-- the defensive need to P R O T E C T and survive is simply fading. Which leaves a shell of a man, a man that isn’t truly of one form. A million mixed parts to make a whole. No he isn’t whole-- he is more apart then he was in that dark abyss. Yet here he still searches--- waits for a S I G N and straight ahead he notices a dull outline, but one that seems to jostle a memory. The girl-- he’s met her before, just before he died she was there. Then again he hears her voice faint and almost none existent as is called to him --- ARISE!

He get’s caught up in the flashback just long enough to lose trace of the girl. His only assumption being the large house behind closed gates. Dark hues linger up to the pea of that tall home and it’s gates, but nothing flashes. There is no memory and no recollection of a place like this. Still the boy has nothing to lose and something in his wasted bones tells him to keep going. That he can sense a pull to whatever lingers passed these gates, so he does open up the gate, the creak causing a snap of his head in that direction. Defenses peaked if only for a moment.

Limping to the second door, arms swing beside his solid form before making his way up to the door in front of the large building. Foreign hands lift to open the door, feet shifting and causing hands to hold on tight for strength to stand. The boy is like a two year old learning to stay up while walking. His limbs not UNDERSTANDING the mechanics of it all. Nevertheless his feel move through the doorway, brown orbs lingering over every inch of the building. Studying it and looking for any sort of recollection, but none is found. The only thing pulling him forward comes from his gut. Deep within his borrowed bones he senses a familiar presence and it takes control of him-- leading him to the grand staircase.

Lips part with shock at the expanse of it all as his strong will leads the boy to stumble up each step. Dried blood crusting off onto the railing as he holds so tight it is inevitable. Groans pass his lips as he fights to make it all the way up the staircase. Finally by the midway he turns his gaze to the hallway where one door is cracked and that faint light in the darkness is his key. His eyes never leave it as he stumbles to the top of the staircase.

The boy has tunnel vision-- that light being the only thing that is keeping him on his right path. Limbs lift to open the door with a creak that, no doubt, has stirred whoever lingers on the other side. Breath exhales as the light makes him blink and eyes adjust, settling on the girl that he witnessed not long ago. Though something foreign surrounds her in certain areas, a machine of which he has never witnessed. Curiosity overtakes the boy and similar to how a caveman doesn’t know of modern technology he lets a testing hand lift to brush against the mechanism. That chocolate gaze lifts to her-- studying her as he feels he S H O U L D. “Mmm--” sounds appear but no words follow, but not for lack of trying. Lips purse as if to try and push out the words but he is unable to do so, to bring his thoughts passed his lips. It leaves a grunt to pass his lips with anger within himself, what has he become? Can she help him? Something has G O T to give.