Appearance:
Name: Lewis Morte
Age: 17
Unique Quality: In his sleep, he dies. His pulse flatlines and the symptons of death occur.
Weakness: He suffers from post trumatic event disorder where fragments of a past he has forgotten had brought down guilt and sorrow on him from a very young age. Which affects him today.
Also in his sleeps he experiences horrific nightmares that only help to break his bond with sanity.
Extras(Backstory from his PoV)
I can remember the nights, the nights when I was left alone. Alone, shaking in my cot as the doctors walked past us all, they would choose one and that person would be taken, the nurses would smile and say they were being brought home. I had asked why I could not go back.
I remember nothing of home, nothing but tears, smoke and death. Prehaps it had been a dream, no that was before.
I remember my turn, I remember screaning and grabbing the bedpost. I remember the cool fiery needle being injected and my body going slack. The rest was just haze, I was tired, so very tired. So I slept.
I remember feeling a feeling a hand touch my wrist, I remember the gruff person comment "No pulse." and continue.
I remember smoke, fire and noise, noise of lives being cut short.
I remember coughing, sitting up and looking around, the man saw me get up and spoke to no one around him, I remember it confusing me. People all crowded me, I remember how they offered me water and told me not to move. Then once I was seen as okay, I remember the black gloved hand grip my arm.
Now I am locked in here, I find company with all the things around me, They say if It never happened. I would be normal, I would be home.
All I have to keep me company is mere pieces of card with sketchs of designs on them. The doctor said that they would help me focus, so he taugh me to play with them. He won, he always won but it was for the time it lasted, enjoyable. Then he deemed me as a lost cause. Deviant. A freak.
But I'm perfectly normal, there is nothing wrong with me.
I want to go home.
Name: Lewis Morte
Age: 17
Unique Quality: In his sleep, he dies. His pulse flatlines and the symptons of death occur.
Weakness: He suffers from post trumatic event disorder where fragments of a past he has forgotten had brought down guilt and sorrow on him from a very young age. Which affects him today.
Also in his sleeps he experiences horrific nightmares that only help to break his bond with sanity.
Extras(Backstory from his PoV)
I can remember the nights, the nights when I was left alone. Alone, shaking in my cot as the doctors walked past us all, they would choose one and that person would be taken, the nurses would smile and say they were being brought home. I had asked why I could not go back.
I remember nothing of home, nothing but tears, smoke and death. Prehaps it had been a dream, no that was before.
I remember my turn, I remember screaning and grabbing the bedpost. I remember the cool fiery needle being injected and my body going slack. The rest was just haze, I was tired, so very tired. So I slept.
I remember feeling a feeling a hand touch my wrist, I remember the gruff person comment "No pulse." and continue.
I remember smoke, fire and noise, noise of lives being cut short.
I remember coughing, sitting up and looking around, the man saw me get up and spoke to no one around him, I remember it confusing me. People all crowded me, I remember how they offered me water and told me not to move. Then once I was seen as okay, I remember the black gloved hand grip my arm.
Now I am locked in here, I find company with all the things around me, They say if It never happened. I would be normal, I would be home.
All I have to keep me company is mere pieces of card with sketchs of designs on them. The doctor said that they would help me focus, so he taugh me to play with them. He won, he always won but it was for the time it lasted, enjoyable. Then he deemed me as a lost cause. Deviant. A freak.
But I'm perfectly normal, there is nothing wrong with me.
I want to go home.