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Post by Sasha Cole on Dec 30, 2008 15:55:25 GMT -5
( Sasha Cole ! )
Name: Alexander David Cole II/Jr. (depending on who you ask, his birth certificate it’s Jr.)
Nicknames: Only responds to Sasha
Age: 21 years
Date of Birth: August 21
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Played by: Jake Gyllenhaal
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( You see I've got this american love ! )
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Height: 5’11”
Weight: 170 lbs
Physical Description: How does one describe Sasha? When hearing his name, or better yet alias, people obviously assume him to be much different from what he really is, but once you get into the right mind set he could fit his title quite well. His appearance very seldom changes, just being one not to fight with it too much, so if you see him once you’ll remember him the next time you lay eyes upon his form. He is memorable to say the least, for more reasons than just one, but more into that later.
The basic build is simply muscular. He has enough muscle upon his flesh for people to think he seriously works on it, but that is a complete lie. All of his habits just make him do things the hard way, and it keeps him looking the way he is. Arms, legs, abs, he’s just strong in appearance, which isn’t a lie. Sasha is not someone you want to get hit by, it hurts and will usually end someone on the ground. Not, some may say he could look bulky with his strength, which is a down right lie. In reality, he is one of the most agile people out there. This, of course, came with practice, but it is now true and it’s not like he has the build of a body builder or wrestler, just maybe of someone in the military for a few years time. With all of this muscle and a height of about 6’2” it is obvious even a silhouette of his frame is something that you would have good reason to be fearful of him, though it doesn’t really bother him at all.
In actuality, Sasha’s muscle overpowers any fat that he has on his body, which is very little to say the least. The only thing that keeps him at a considerably healthy weight, which is about 160 to 180, for he isn’t one to check, is that his lack of fat is made up for in the heavier muscle. He does not intentionally do this, nor is his metabolism anything way out there, it just happens. He doesn’t eat as much as he probably should, since time isn’t something he has a luxury of, and that is probably the reason when it boils down. In complete reality, Sasha hates this fact, for it does make him tired and weak after a day of stressful physical work.
Beyond his build he still isn’t someone you really want to mess with. His eyes are a very deep, yet dull slate blue, some may say gray, depending on his clothes. Getting a glare from his can usually cause everyone to look down and quickly do as they were told. He holds a threatening look when not trying, but it’s seriously much worse when he is. It’s a threat that can appear to be something more deadly and frightening, something that’s no longer a threat but a promise. Knowing this, it is something he uses often just to get his way.
His eyes also almost always hold a nearly exhausted look. With dark sags under them and his lids pulling at least halfway over the orbs he looks like he could usually fall asleep where he stood, which also isn’t a lie. His eyes are red from lack of sleep most of the time and though he holds himself still with a very proud and intimidating when you actually look at him something is obviously wrong. I guess it’s a good thing most don’t bother to take too good of look, huh?
Sasha’s skin is nothing overly special when seen as a whole. If he were female they would say it glowed, but as he’s not its just nice. It has a deep golden tan from long days outside in the blazing sun and heat. If it was not tanned he would probably be very pale, since both of his parents are from northern countries in their ancestry. Nothing much to really say about the basics of the flesh I guess.
Hair, what can you say about his hair? Well, to start it’s obviously completely unmanageable. Though he hardly cares he does have very little control over what the locks do. The messy look doesn’t work for some, but it really does when seeing Sasha. It just add to his rugged, “tough guy” appearance that catches many-a-girl’s eyes. Even just after their cut the locks manage to find a way to fall into his eyes and obscure his vision and when he’s tired of this he’s known to pull a red bandana into his head, usually something cleaned, but still stained with blood. The hue of his mob is somewhat sandy in color, like a light dirty blonde. It’s almost hard to explain, but just think of the sand on a yellow beach and that’s about it.
Everything else about him, his nose, lips whatever is just pretty much normal. Sure, he has his variations, but he’s nothing to stare at when it comes to his basic body type. Something most people do seem to notice is that he almost never smiles. Smirk, sure, smile rarely. His eyes don’t light up as most people’s do and he appears very cold, for good reason, but cold nonetheless. Most girls actually seem to find him hot in someway, which he really doesn’t see but it’s hardly his call. Girls seem to be going more and more for that bad boy look, and Sasha certainly has it. Though not all girls find it attractive many do, well, most do it so seems. He’s not going to complain to say the least.
Now, I said he was memorable, remember? Well, though a lot do seem to just remember him right away, there is one thing almost no one will forget, his left arm. From his shoulder to his wrist is what is known as a tattoo sleeve, done all in black and red ink. This was all done by a friend of his, though at different times, but it is all the same style and with the exception of one piece everything is unique to his own piece of body art. He has four major pieces, a quick description of each is a rearing horse as his main and biggest piece upon his bicep, a spider web and phoenix on his forearm and, the non-individual piece, a hissing snake to the inside of the horse, wrapped about the forelegs. Around these pieces are other, not important stuff and the sleeve is boarded with a band of fire at his shoulder and wrist.
Flaws, well everyone has them, and Sasha is no different, in fact, he could be the poster boy for flaws at times, though they are all in the eyes of the beholder. His otherwise wonderful skin is absolutely covered in scars. Naming all of these will take quite a bit of time, but the most noticeable include a gunshot wound in his right thigh, one which he nearly bled to death with, a knife wound in the back of his left shoulder, which actually hurt the muscle and tendon and can now bother him after he works it really hard. The outside of his right calf has a bad scrap on it, from falling off his bike and the left one has the same thing, but this one isn’t nearly as dramatic. If the ink wasn’t covering his left arm you could see that he has a scar running along the vein that moves down everyone’s arm, which is from it bursting long ago. He also has many other gunshot and stab wounds, but those you’ll just have to ask about. Other flaws, in some eyes, have already been spoken of. His cold and tired look to his muscle over powering him, though most seem to like that much. It’s just how you see him really, but most people judge him on the tough guy appearance into whether they like him or not.
Just looking at Sasha all together the best way to describe him is as someone who you don’t want to mess with. He seriously does give off the impression that he would carry a concealed weapon with him, but only on purpose when it boils down. He’s also often taken for older than he actually is which he does look it. Only being nineteen he looks about 23 or 24, and he doesn’t deny it, though he also doesn’t dislike it at all. In one word most people call him intimidating, which no one can deny that he is.
Clothing Style:
Clothes? Do you really think Sasha cares? The only thing most people can say about him is that he definitely has a love for black. He doesn’t care where it’s from, but he hasn’t worn an actual suit in his life, and isn’t planning to either. Normally it’s just jeans and a dark colored t-shirt, black or navy if given the choice. He doesn’t have much time to go and actually think about it so just wears whatever comes to hand first thing in the morning. He doesn’t care if it gets ripped or ruined; he just throws it out and gets something new usually. Some of his shirts are actually pretty tight about his muscle, just to show it off pretty much. One thing you can say for him though is that he does love his black leather jacket, though he only wears it when seen on his bike. He also has a certain love for his black hoodie, but that isn’t touched for months at a time, probably because it is stained with blood and looks pretty beat up and used, which is the truth
Physical Flaws: *sunken in eyes
*Slightly childish look when smiling or… not glaring
*ears stick out
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( A brand new black hole in the solar system ! )
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Likes: *Horses
*His Gang
*Drugs (no longer using)
*Organization (though he doesn’t admit it out loud)
*Drinking
*Loyalty
Dislikes: *His Father
*Parole/ Jail
*Strip Clubs (oddly enough)
*Most Animals
*People He Deems Stupid (often a majority of people he meets)
Overall Personality: People say that girls are complicated, but being around Sasha for only two days and thoughts and opinions may be switched around more quickly than you could blink. If there is one person in this world that is complicated it’s Sasha Cole. Most people can never really fully understand him, and sadly enough that includes himself. He often has no clue why he’s thinking the way he is or why he’s nice to some people and a complete jerk to others. His mind is just a little out there in the way he thinks, but to him it’s completely normal, but he’s the only one who actually has enough common sense to think in a way that could actually save your life.
One of the most important things to understand about Sasha is that he has a short fuse. It’s a rare day when his temper is completely in his control, in fact, there hasn’t been such a day in years. He always has a string taunt where one wrong word could cause him to snap in two. He will try, he always tries, but over the years he is starting to wonder why. Deep breaths or counting backwards from ten or any of that other hocus pocus nonsense people suggest has never worked, and that is not for lack of trying. It is seriously just something he can’t control, and probably one of his biggest faults.
Now, what actually happens when he losses his temper? Well, depends on who you are really. A friend, a guy, a girl, it seriously does just depend. A friend he’ll most likely ran to, maybe push or “throw” but nothing serious. If you’re female, you also don’t have to worry too much. He’ll yell, definitely, and he’ll threaten, grab or whatever, but the only injury you’ll walk out with is a hand shaped bruise or a bump from hitting your head against the wall he threw you up against, but if you’re a guy just watch out. To other males Sasha is in no way scared to use his fist to get his point across. A firm punch across the face is only the starting point most of the time, unless he does manage to stop himself and just walk away, but you do not want to get into a full out fist fight with the guy, he has yet to lose.
If you haven’t been able to tell thus far, Sasha is a very angry individual. Some may call him just a young man that is simply upset with the world and tired of life, and on a few accounts you may be right, but in some you’re just wrong. He’s tired of life, yes, but not in the way most people seem to think. He’s just tired of being forced to live in a way other people want him to. Currently he’s on probation so has to bend over backwards to obey all those rules and before hand he had to do the same for his father. Now he just wants to live how he sees fit, but is having plenty of trouble with that. Now, being upset with the world? Definitely. Sasha is twisted about everything when it comes down to it. With everything that’s happened to him though, you can’t blame his way of thinking all too much anymore.
Aside from his temper, Sasha still isn’t really the nicest person you will ever meet. Even he won’t deny that he’s rude and can be a bit of a jerk, especially to the people he doesn’t like, or doesn’t have a reason to like. Some may call him shallow, and, well yeah, it’s probably true. He judges you from the moment his eyes catch your flesh, but he will always change his thoughts if you can prove something different while you’re still giving him a first impression, but after that it take a miracle to change his opinion. He is all about first impressions and if he doesn’t get a good one, then you are forever and for-always on his bad side, so good luck with that.
Something else you may want to know, or something you may find out very quickly, is that Sasha is quit prone to mood-swings. This is usually the result of losing his temper, snapping then quickly realizing it and getting himself back under control. To some it just seems like he doesn’t know how he wants to react, but that’s a lie. If this is happening, he wants to snap, yell, hit, whatever works in the situation, but he knows he shouldn’t. That’s not to say he always knows what he would like to do, for that is also a lie, he just prefers to give off an angry face.
Why some ask, well the answer is very simple. He loves being feared. Some don’t believe him, but it’s the simple and sad truth. Having people run from him or just duck their head from his glare gives him a sense of power that he will never deny. Power was something he never had in the past, so how he milks the feeling for all it’s worth. If he ever actually is in a position of power he won’t take advantage of that, for he hates it and he is no hypocrite. His father would always take advantage of the power over his son, and now Sasha refuses to turn out like him, for obvious reasons.
So far this has been Sasha on a normal or bad day, but what about when he’s in a good mood? Well, he seems quite different then. He’s in no way all smiles and sunshine, but he is calmer, nicer. Instead of ignoring a kind deed he may be able to make himself say thank you or maybe even do something kind himself. On days like this he always has the feeling that he is going soft, and he doesn’t like that at all. He likes the tough guy look, and especially when he’s like this around people he just meets, only because if he ever sees them again they’ll be shocked to meet the real Sasha.
Something most people don’t see in Sasha, but do notice after a little bit of time with him. Sasha has a mild case of OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder. Things have to be put in it’s perfect spot and a bed has to be made to his standards. He’s not as bad as some and can hold up a conversation if something is out of place a little ways away, but it is more difficult. Unlike some, things such as pictures can be crooked and not bother him at all, but a room must not be messy. He is probably one of the very few teenage guys who live alone and have a perfectly clean apartment.
Hmm, what else is there to say really? Uh, so girls I guess is something I should touch on. As stated before, Sasha can be shallow and that includes with females. He knows what he likes and he knows what he doesn’t. Any girl who covers themselves in make-up or wears clothes that require no imagination make him lose all respect he may have for them, for it is completely obvious they have no respect for themselves. He will also never chase a girl, period. He likes his occasional fun night, but he’s not really looking for a relationship. Why fight so hard when it won’t last?
Yes, Sasha doesn’t believe in love, hasn’t for years. To him it’s ridicules to think someone can care for someone else as much as they say they do. If you want to get through life it’s best to just figure it out quickly, you need to take care of yourself, and trust no one else to. No one else will care for you; can care for you, especially in such a strong way as the word love actually applies. This, though, can be seen as a hypocritical statement when you hear about how he treats his friends.
Sasha is very loyal to his friends, but getting such a status is nearly impossible. He has his group, all living back where he used to live, and that’s pretty much what it’s staying as. These are the only people he trusts, including with his life for many of them have saved his before, just as he had done for them. They’ve gotten themselves in some amount of trouble, but they can always trust each other to help them out. See, hypocritical huh?
Well, all in all, Sasha may not be the nicest person you’ll ever meet, and he’s not going to bother denying it. His morals and beliefs are messed up, though that he doesn’t see, and he just sees things differently. Since he doesn’t care what others think of him, at all, he just tries his best to live life how he wants to live it, but does have problems with that, for he’s a wild one and living life how he wants may just put others in danger. No matter what it seems, when it boils down the guy is a gang member and will do anything for that tight group, which is probably what makes everyone outside of it in need of caution.
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( I'll dig my grave but I just can't stand to step inside ! )
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Family: Kailey St. Martin Cole – mother – nurse
Alexander David Cold Sr. – father - police detective
Pets: Strider – Percheron Stallion
Kira – Female Pit Bull
Home Town: Lyon, France
Job: Horse Trainer
History:
0-10 Years
-It takes years to build trust, and just a word to destroy it
On August 21, 1988, in a small town in Belgium, Alexander and Kailey Cole were blessed with the birth of their son. Kailey went into labor at 6 am on the 21st and the child wasn’t born for greater than twenty-four hours later, at one pm the next day the younger Alexander was born, his father not even showing up within the 31 hours his wife was in labor. In fact, the older male didn’t even see his son until he was two days old when he finally pulled himself away from his work with the United States military and came to see the bundle of joy. At this time Alexander seemed very excited about the child, like it was all he had ever wanted and what he thrived for in his life.
Not even two weeks, September 1, 1988, after the child’s birth, who was called Alex to avoid too much confusion, they left the comfort of Belgium and moved to Lyon, France as Alexander’s positioning changed. To make sure his son had a good place to grow for the first few years of life he requested not to be re-stationed until August 21, 1891, Alex’s third birthday. The child grew up in France, speaking French before he spoke English when it really boiled down, but learning both very quickly, for he was a quick speaker and it was obvious an intelligent child. The young child did in fact love the place where he lived and considered it his home, but that wasn’t for long.
The day of his third birthday, August 21, 1891 as said before, his father came home with an armful of presents, but also with grave news. While Alex was pulling the wrapping paper off of the toys and play Marine fighters and Air Force planes Alexander told his wife the news and as they were eating the cake he broke it to his son. His stationing had been moved to Germany, and they had to leave in three days. At first Alex was very disappointed, but that soon turned into excitement that he was going to a whole new country. So, that night Alexander and Kailey went straight into teaching the young child German as his third language at the age of three.
Though the language confused him at first it didn’t take him long to pick it up after they had gotten to the country. Knowing two languages already it was easy for him to learn the others quickly, though the first few weeks were torture, for he obviously had trouble understand or communicating with anybody. After Alex knew the new language the Cole’s switched off the language they used everyday, just to make sure the child didn’t forget either French or English. Then, Alex hardly even got used to the new country before his father brought home the news of re-stationing yet again.
Now, they were off to Holland, May 18, 1993, where Sasha got his influence of Dutch. This wasn’t a bad place either, and a lot of people there did speak German, which of course Alex knew, so he didn’t learn the language too well, but soon it didn’t seem necessary. They had only lived there for two months when Alexander once again said they were moving. At this point Alex was nearly five years old.
They moved to Brazil, August 16, 1993 at the edge of the ocean. Here Alex was once again forced to learn a new language, Portuguese. Now knowing three tongues, this one came alone very quickly. Here they stayed for about two and a half years, quite a while compared to their last home. Alex, by now, was starting to feel the strain of all the moving and never being able to make a friend he could keep, but, at the same time, he currently loved the life style. Living all over the place and letting you see the world it was what most young adults wanted, and now was what the child wanted as well. This, though, was only the start of Alex’s painfully quick maturing.
February 4, 1996 and they were off again, this time to Japan. Here they stayed for only a little while, a few months. Alex learned to speak Japanese, but didn’t pick up on reading or writing the language, with all the symbols, but it didn’t matter in the end as they were soon off again, this time to Spain May 31, 1996. They stayed here for only a few months as well and they changed location to Mexico, October 14, 1996. These were where he learned Spanish, with much difficulty to be truthful. Spanish was so much like Portuguese it was hard for his mind to grip. He soon was forced to learn it for they stayed there for a year and a half, to April 11, 1998.
They now moved to a place where everyone thought they would never go, Saudi Arabia. It was hot and a hard place to live. Most of the people around did speak English, so at first Alex didn’t bother trying to learn the language and by that time, he was only nine, his parents already trusted him to just do the right thing and learn the language without their help. It was only a month later when he decided he may as well learn it. He studied the language, but didn’t have time to become fluent in the very difficult and unusual tongue before something that would change the young man’s life forever happened.
The fateful day was June 12, 1998 and Alex was in the comfortable air conditioned home studying for a test his mother was giving him later that day, he had been home schooled all these years to keep him from having to go through the stress of changing schools every few months. Well, his studies were interrupted by a knock on the door. Getting up he walked over to let whoever it was in, for he assumed it was one of his father cadets stopping by to get out of the heat for a little while, as happened almost every day. It was just too hot here. He was met with the view of one of his father’s privates, but it was not what he had expected. The young man was leaning against the door frame and breathing hard. He was so hysterical that Alex had to go get his mother to get the story from him, but then he didn’t hear the tale, for Kailey quickly sent him off to his room.
The next thing he knows is his mother rushing him to the hospital to see his father, who was currently in surgery. The story was never fully understood by anyway except for the fact that Alexander’s left leg was badly burnt, as well as a bullet lodged deep into his femur. Alex as well as Kailey were very scared as they waited for long hours for him to get out of surgery and when he finally did they ran to his bedside, but he was never going to be the same, according to the doctors. He would have a permanent limp and would never be able to work like he did now.
Obviously, Alexander got honorably discharged from the military. With that the whole family moved to the United States, on September 7, 1998, the first time young Alex had even been there even though, technically, he was a US citizen. They moved to a suburb outside of Minneapolis, Minnesota and here they stared a new life.
Short Version of Movements over the world: Born in Belgium August 21, 1988, France September 1, 1988 (learned French), Germany August 21, 1891 (learned German), Holland May 18, 1993 (Dutch), Brazil August 16, 1993 (Portuguese), Japan February 4, 1996 (Japanese), Spain May 31, 1996, Mexico October 14, 1996 (Spanish), Saudi Arabia April 11, 1998 (Arabic), Minnesota, US (September 7, 1998)
((Not including stays that lasted less then one month. These include, but are not limited to, Greenland, Australia, England, Wales, Egypt and Canada. The years of dates may be a little off, please don't take it as law.))
10-12 Years
-The most I ever got in the way of a bedtime story is ‘you’re getting up at 0600 hours’
Right away the move to the US wasn’t anything to Alex. The only thing that was any different than everything else he had been through was now he was going to a public school, currently in forth grade. It took a bit of adjusting, but he soon made friends, but at that time it was only because they found it cool that he had lived all over the world and knew many languages. They also found his house decently large and he had a pool and trampoline for his family had obtained a large sum of money from the military when his father was discharged, so he probably was making friends for the wrong reason at this time, but they were friends and at that point in anyone’s life the only thing that’s important are your friends.
At this point his father was still bed-lain and everything was fine. Alex would go and hear stories every night before bed and they would talk about school, like any father and son, but over time stuck in bed Alexander changed. The child was too young to see it, but his father was changing into something he wouldn’t like, but couldn’t help and in time he would figure it all out, but it would be a painful time for the little army brat.
About three months after getting to the US Alexander was getting out of bed, finally. Alex was very excited to have his friends meet his father for the first time and was actually happy for the upcoming event. One day, Alex went off to school early in the morning as he did every weekday, but he did not come home to what he expected. As he went to put his backpack upstairs in his room he found it all completely changed. Once having posters with all the countries he had lived in across the walls, camouflage sheets, his childhood blanket and toys spread across the floor what was once a young child’s room was now empty and cold. The walls had been stripped dry and the sheets changed to white and perfectly made. All toys had left the room and even the blanket he had since they had been in Belgium was taken. The room was now nothing more and a barracks, with nothing but a twin bed and a single dresser the whole room was empty.
The child ran to his mother and questioned the change in scenery, but all she said was a simple ‘go ask your father.’ Alex had trouble doing this, but when he did Alexander was found in the den putting up world, country and state maps carefully across the walls. The boy asked and all his father had to say was, “There are people out there who needs that stuff much more than you do, private.” Obviously the child was confused by this phrase and stood there staring for a while before he went back to his mother and told her what his father had said, tears in the young boy’s eyes as he realized everything he owned had been taken from him.
Kailey went and spoke to Alexander, telling him to give the child his stuff back, but it was too late. The father had already given it all to goodwill and it was now pretty much gone. Not to mention, even if it wasn’t Alexander had control of the house, what he said went and there was no complaining about any of it. You just had to grin and bare it, which is what his son ended up doing, as well as he could. At this point he lost many friends because the trampoline had been taken out as well and the pool marked off limits and was only to be used for Alexander’s rehabilitation.
Not long after this surprise, one morning Alex was awoken promptly at six AM and told to hurry up and get dressed and ready to go. The still ten year old child did quickly get up and started to get ready to go, thinking he was going to get a surprise before school or something like that, but how wrong he was. Though he was not known to the knowledge his father had been building something in the back yard, which he had been forbidden to go into for the last two weeks and it was now done. What was it? Nothing more or less than a military’s training set, ready to go. This was the first day the army brat got a taste of the actual life, hard and demanding as he was forced through the obstacle course three times just that morning, twenty-five push ups and an attempted chin up before he was sent to shower and be back down for breakfast by eight.
For a few days Alex found this a cool thing to do, but by the fifth he was too tired to pull himself out of bed at his father’s holler and, thinking this was only for his fun, decided to stay in bed. What a mistake that was. At seven his father slammed into the room and nearly dragged him from the comfort of his covers. He was told to stand at attention, which he had been taught in good sprits at a very young age, and was simply yelled at and lectured for three minutes before his father told him to get dressed and meet him on the training field and quickly left. Alex did as he was bid, tears filling his eyes as he had just been yelled at by his father and he didn’t understand why.
Getting to the course all his father said was the simple command he got used to over a few years, then dreaded “push ups.” For a half hour the child tried to keep up a steady pace of push ups, up and down and back up until his father finally excused him, then forced him to run the course once before sending him back to shower and get down to breakfast. The whole day the poor boys arms were shaking uncontrollably from the torture they had been put through that morning.
For two years Alex put up with the routine. He got much stronger and was easily the best in his PE class at the time. Through it all he did try to keep good spirits it got hard after his eleventh birthday. Every morning, including weekends, at six AM and soon the regiment was continued after he got home from school everyday as well. It was tough, to say the least. The child was treating like he was in boot camp at his own house; his father was no longer dad, but sir and he didn’t stand normally ever in his presence, oh no, it was always strait back and shoulders back, firmly at attention. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that the kid would rebel.
13 Years
-Life’s too short to be living it for someone else
Alex turned thirteen and was now seriously doing what he could to show he wasn’t like his father. Though he made sure his father wouldn’t figure out any of the things he did, or did what he could. He started to drink, but stayed away from smoking to make sure his father wouldn’t be able to smell it on his clothes. He would walk through the bad neighborhoods, just to show he would do something his father didn’t want him to do. No matter how many times he tried to tell his father he didn’t like the regiment and the way he was being forced to live his life, but Alexander just pushed it more and more onto him, making him almost get into the mindset that he was indeed in the army.
This is when Alex’s OCD started to develop. He is probably one of the few people out there who actually developed a case of obsessive compulsive disorder, but it is true, or at least seemed to be. Since his father, who also had the problem, was very finicky about how everything was done it was of the utmost importance that everything was clean and prefect. There was no room for mistakes, since even one only cost him a couple sets of push ups. It was just drilled into his head that anything being messed up equaled pain and it turned into an unnatural fear that made him clean everything he came to.
That aside and back to his rebellion Alex was very careful not to get caught, but one day he did make a mistake. For the first time he skipped class, just one, but he was caught and his father called. Alex nearly shook as he waited in the principal’s office after school for his father to pick him up. Right then it didn’t seem like Alexander was too upset, actually, and just told the principal that he would get a long talking to when they got home. The whole car ride was completely silent, but when they got home all hell broke loose.
For a good five minutes he was told to stand at attention while he got lectured and yelled at, then was told to do five sets of push ups, a set being twenty. For only a moment Alex gaped and thought he was joking, but it soon proved to be false hope as he was yelled at again and a finger pointed to the ground. It was a long while later before Alex had finished this, his arms shaking and not able to hold up his body anymore. When finished he went to find his father to tell him so, and to prove that he could, but that only back lashed. He was sent out, with supervision, to run through the obstacle course three times, then told to do more push ups when he was done. By this time it was eight o-clock at night and Alex and passed out on his bed, his homework untouched, but his body pretty much dead.
The next morning he was, as always, awoken to someone pounding at the door at six AM and was expected to be ready to do it all again. This was final, now he was pretty much being forced to torture himself and Alex was simply tired of putting up with it all.
14 years
-When you’re angry it takes 43 muscles to frown, but only four to lift your arm and punch the bastard that upset you in the first place.
Now, his rebel-esque ways were no longer kept to himself. He would get in trouble just to show his father that he didn’t have all control over his life, which Alexander hated, he was used to always having almost full power over every situation from being in the military. Parties, drinking, sex, skipping school, whatever popped into his head Alex did with little thought. The punishments dished out by his father were taken in silence, even as each work-out increased in intensity and physical strain. Almost every night Alex would just fall in bed, every muscle in his body shaking before he would fall asleep in two seconds, out of exhaustion.
It wasn’t long before Alex had seriously gotten into the “wrong crowd.” It was now that he started to do heavy drugs. Though his friends messed with marijuana, that was something he stayed away from mostly, though why, he didn’t know. First he started to take heroine orally but it took very little time for that to stop giving him the high he “needed.” Instead, he started to liquidize the pills and inject it directly into his bloodstream, probably not a good thing, but he hardly cared.
One day he was headed home from school, for he had decided to walk that day and the walk was a very long one. He had gone down a street known to be run by some gang or another, it constantly switching possession. Not a very safe place to be, eh, but teenager hardly cared. His father didn’t want him there, ergo, guess where he showed up. Only halfway, he listened to a conversation two men were having, probably at least four or five years older then himself. He just watched for a few minutes, doing what he could to make it look as though he was paying no attention to what the pair were talking about. Why may you ask? Only because he had seen the same two at the high school before, seniors if he had to guess.
A few days of the same thing and Alex did indeed get the basics of what was going on with the two, and did indeed find in interesting, or maybe more it was something his father would definitely not approve in. From what he could tell they were talking about some kind of death or injury, and it involved drugs. Now, that was something Alex would never turn his back to at this time, his dependence upon the toxin was growing even if he didn’t admit it. His interest was perked, now he just had to find a safe way to walk up to them.
Well, his change came one day when he was, once again, walking home on a nice spring day. The two males he saw almost everyday were there, but so were others, and it didn’t seem to be going well. There was yelling, then a punch was thrown, hitting on of the ones that was common. Without much thinking Alex threw himself into the middle of the fight. He had been taught a lot about self defense and all that from his father, so was now simply good at it and didn’t think twice about using it for no reason.
Well, the fight went on and soon ended, with the guy who threw the first punch on the ground and his bud running as quickly away as possible. Alex stood there; legs shaking and pretty beat up, a black eyes and bruised shin, but not beat up too bad, especially compared to the person who lay on the ground. Not speaking to him one of the other males and leaned down, putting his fingers on the male’s neck before shaking his head. The other, the one still on his feet sighed and rubbed against a bruise he had gotten on his forearm.
“So we killed him, eh?” was all Alex got, at which point his eyes went wide and he gaped at the two. Killed? To this day they do not know who gave the killing blow, nor even the cause of death, and they don’t much talk about it either. The one who had leaned down, taller of the two with dark brown hair while the other was kind of a blondish hue, looked to Alex and gazed him up and down.
“Hey kid, you okay?” Alex nodded, “And will you be when you get home?” the other male added, walking in front of him to join the first.
“I’ll handle,” Alex answered. Yeah, he knew his father would be fuming when he saw his son in such a condition and in even a worse mood when he found out it was due to a fight, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. Alexander had never put a mean hand to him, just made him do it to himself. He smirked at the thought, that was one kind of family he guessed, maybe.
The two had a hushed conversation before the blonde turned to him again. “Kid, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, jerking his head before leading him somewhere. At first he was skeptical, but it wasn’t long before he followed. Down the street in silence, following the two, and turning into an alleyway as he continued to follow through rows of motorcycles and darkness. They turned to the left and into an abandoned building, or so it seemed from the outside. Inside the place was really quite nice. Couches, all almost full people littered the whole room. Booze and needles and small jars or what Alex knew to be drugs sat everywhere there was room, but what really caught the young teen’s attention was a counter in the back, which was covered in guns and knifes, all looking deadly and something that really shouldn’t be touched. This was Alex’s first look into the world of gangs, and that of the Ormtug ((taken off the Swedish for snake bite)).
They offered him drugs, out of what they thought was courtesy and, never one to refuse a free hit, Alex took them up on the offer quickly. They got him high and he revealed his life story, though not completely unwillingly, and he once he was done another hushed conversation was heard before he was offered membership just like that. It wasn’t overly difficult to become a member at such a time, now was it? Now, Alex said he would think about it for a day before he went home for the night, getting home late and beat up, still coming down from his high. Needless to say really, it had not been a very good evening for the young male.
The next day Alex skipped school completely and went straight back to the alley where he said he was officially a member, and got the ink for one of the others, Markus to prove it. It was a simple snake that they all had somewhere on their body, his being on the inside of his left bicep. This mark was what gave Sasha his first dose of physical punishment from his father. He had been thrown into the pots and pans hanging from the wall, cuasing many marks that didn't leave for a couple days. From that hour henceforth he was a gang member, and never would he forget it, especially for that first half year. This was when they were active, fighting for territory and killing when needed. Drugs and deaths and everything else happened, but they kept the youngest ones of the group out of the killings, which at the time included Alex.
This is also when Alex changed his title. After some looking around he decided he quite liked Sasha, a Slavic pet name for the Greek Alexander. The day he chose it he stopped responding to Alex, or Alexander, completely, trying to make himself forget that it was even his name, which was quite difficult for anyone who actually tried.
15 Years
-In the end, it’s the survivors who tell the tale
Over that while Sasha’s life was hectic, always torturing himself by night and running around for the gang in the day. He went to school about once a week, at that, and didn’t go a day without getting high on something or another. His father tried harder and harder to rein him in, but the harder he held the more Sasha fought and struggled to get away from his blood’s power, but that was nearly impossible. He was only fifteen with nowhere to live but home with parents. He was just going to have to deal with his painful and torturous way of life until he could find a way out.
Well, it wasn’t long after he had joined the gang that it all ended with a screeching halt. With the murder of their leader they vowed revenge. After this was received, the death’s of the murderer as well as the leader of his gang, the Ormtug fell into inactivity, as they had promised when their vow of vengeance had been fulfilled. The group, however, did not break up. They were still a gang and did hold territory around the city, fighting or even killing if it was needed. Drugs were also still a daily thing for them all.
Now that they weren’t flipping coins for the worse jobs everyone started to get along really well, and they knew each other like you would never know. Everyone could tell if something was wrong with the others in a matter of seconds and you couldn’t hide anything at all. Now, they were just a seriously tight group of friends that knew everything about the others.
16 Years
-If love is like a rose, that means it withers and dies
-Love is a fairytale mothers tell their daughters to get them to fall asleep at night
Everything stayed pretty much the same for a while. Sasha rebelled against his father more and more, doing what he could. Now, he would stay at the gang’s headquarters for days at a time, skip school and now, he was finally talking back to his father. He didn’t take everything dished out to him anymore, but the nights that he was at home he still didn’t have much of a choice but to wake up at six in the morning and go through the morning routine of killing his body before school. By this time Markus had inked the phoenix upon his forearm, a sign of perseverance, Markus’ thought and reason as Sasha just told him to do what he thought was best. See, trust was a big thing with all of them.
It wasn’t long before he and one of the girls in the gang seriously hit it off. Rene was a girl actually somewhat older than he was, him being the oldest in his year and she the youngest in her own. She was a beautiful girl, but had some problems at home, as everyone in the gang did. Her bother wasn’t quite sane anymore and raped and beat her often and since he was her legal guardian after her parents were killed in a car crash she had nothing to do to help it. She was a lovely blonde, tall and had curves on her, but was still very slim, yet not underweight and was definitely loyal to the gang ((Sasha’s perfect girl…)). She had the snake upon the right side of her neck as well as covering a good deal of her back with Ormtug under it. The two started dating, but their relationship was anything but actually normal.
Since both were heavily into drugs not knowing what they were doing came with the territory of actually doing anything in life. In the first month of them dating they tried to have a normal relationship, but in the end it really didn’t seem to work out. They both ended up doing stupid things that they regretted in the morning so decided on something pretty different, even though it was orally never agreed on. If asked they said they were dating, they both had their pet names and Sasha would carry her things around. On the surface they seemed like a wonderful couple, but what their friends knew was completely different.
Both of them slept with whoever came within arm’s reach pretty much, usually only when they were high but even sometimes when they weren’t. For almost a whole year they tried to make it work, trying many times to go back to acting like a real couple, but soon found that impossible and the strain that sleeping with other people put on their relationship was just too much to bare. They decided it was best for both them and the rest of the guys if they just broke it off and went back to being just friends.
This is when Sasha just completely gave up on love. With having his father yell at him daily and beat him often and his mother almost completely ignoring him unless he came home injured he never really figured out what love was and then just stopped thinking it was real at all. It wasn’t even up for debate anymore with him; it just didn’t work out with his completely stubborn mind.
Well, the only other big thing that happened to him while he was sixteen was a very bitter sweet happening. A good friend of his, who happened to be one of the guys who he had backed up the day he found out about the gang, Zach, was found dead inside his parent’s house with a bullet wound in his head. The guys knew what happened, his mother was a drunk and probably got carried away when she saw him in the house, but the police never quite figured it all out. Well, the sweet part of this is Zach had a motorcycle and had been teaching Sasha how to ride. After his death, Sasha found out that he had left the motorbike to him, and it has been one of his greatest possessions ever since, partially because it was one of his friends at some time and it reminds him of Zach, but also simply because he has always loved motorcycles.
17 Years
-My friends are the ones who stood beside me when they knew I was wrong, the ones who had my back when a gun was held to my head, the ones who never set out to hurt me and the ones who I can trust to continue to do it all
Well, Sasha’s seventeenth year was definitely the most eventful in his life, no doubt there. Now that he was seventeen he was counting the days until his eighteenth birthday to get out of his parent’s custody, and of course he was ready for it, but there was so much more…
One day Sasha and his closest friend Kale were heading somewhere, he really can’t remember where, but saying they were high may be an understatement. It wasn’t long before they had to sit down, both having overdosed, and passed out. In their defense, it had been a very long day since they had both gone to school that morning and it hadn’t been fun to say the least for the two, who skipped school now more often than they showed up. Well, the next thing Sasha knows is he’s waking up to a gunshot in unfamiliar surroundings.
Head pounding and his body aching with the remains of his high he looked around to see himself surrounded by other people, and soon found out he was in the company of a rival gang, who only wanted one thing out of him, information. Trying to coax him they moved aside to show him what the gunshot had been for, and all it did was make the male’s blood boil. What met his eyes was Kale’s, his best friend’s, body lying on the ground with a bullet wound through his temple.
What happened next is something like a blur to Sasha, but all he knows is the only thing that saved his own life is another guy, Ryan, showing up with his bike and taking him back to his house, where Ryan had been headed anyway. His father (Ryan’s), had been drunk when he had showed up at home last night, and in a bad mood to say the least. Ryan, currently doped up on Heroin to control the pain, had been burnt badly in his forearm by an iron, right over his mark. Since Sasha’s mother was a nurse and tended not to ask many questions everyone would run to her when injured instead of going to the hospital.
After this Sasha blamed himself for Kale’s death, and does to this day. After all, he was only five feet away on the ground and it was his fault to have pushed so much of a toxin into his, as well as his friend’s, system. Though he will tell no one, this memory tortures him, along with many others but this one stay stuck in his mind. The scene of seeing Kale’s dead body covered in blood, than later his father, who was a crime scene investigator, showed him the photos, as if he wasn’t traumatized enough already.
So, Sasha went through his life, until one night would change it forever. It was late, about two in the morning, when Sasha decided to go home for the night, mostly because he knew his father would be upset and he liked to watch his blood angry. Leaving the headquarters, the small “abandoned” shop, he made his way out to his motorcycle to head home. On the way down the dark, unlighted alley that he walked so many time he saw another figure. Assuming it was just another member of his own gang, since they were the only ones who walked down this alley, he just nodded before reaching up to pull his bandana from his head as the other male passed him to his left.
The next thing he knew was a punch landing firmly across his jaw. Well, he wrote that out to his own stupidity for trusting a figure in the dark, but didn’t dwell on the thought for long and in no time the two were in a downright fist fight. In the end Sasha was the one who walked away, with only a few scraps and bruises to show for the encounter. With that he brushed it off and left the male’s body, assuming only a fool would try anything after such a beating, but he soon learned never to assume.
About a week later Sasha was leaving his house, yelling something over his shoulder at his father, before a large group of policemen met his slate orbs. He only had time to stare for a moment before they were yelling at him and forcing handcuffs around his wrists. Knowing only fools struggled he let them, but soon enough asked for a gentle and controlled version of the charge in which he was being arrested for. What he got was the attempted murder of Tyler Hubbard, which only confused the poor guy more.
What it ended up being was that guy a week ago was pressing charges, which made no sense at all, but he was nonetheless. At first Sasha just found this a waste of time. Anyone with half a brain knew it was self-defense and all he needed was his father to get him a good lawyer and he’d be home free, but once again assumptions killed him. His father, completely furious and embarrassed that someone of his own blood would have done something like this, refused to help him at all and left poor Sasha with a horrible lawyer and not a hope.
Well, they did indeed lose the trail, like Sasha had planned, but under a weakened offence of assault. With that the only thing to figure was his punishment. Sasha, even though he was underage, was sent to jail for five years with a chance of parole. This prison was trying a new program for people with anger issues, as everyone knew Sasha had. Animals would help them control their anger. Sasha was assigned a dog to train and to work at the stable on the prison grounds. Sasha really disliked the idea, but decided to go along with it if only to have a better chance of parole later.
It was soon very relevant that Sasha was wonderful with horses and, though he hated to admit it, he did enjoy time spent with the animals. He learned to ride, then to train and in close to no time he was working with the abused animals the ranch got in. He helped place numerous horses as well as worked with hopeless cases and made people believe otherwise. Let’s just say he was good at what they had him do.
Then, there was one huge problem, Sasha was addicted to drugs and being without a single fix was torture for the young man, very literally. Almost everyday his whole body was in pain and he went through withdrawal symptoms like you wouldn’t believe. For days at a time he would feel so bad he couldn’t even work and the people at the prison soon figured it out. Without question they but him on a hospital supplied dose of something similar to Heroin just to control his withdrawal, which he was always seriously thankful for. He is now clean, but still craves the drugs everyday.
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