❝You cannot fight what you have learned to live with.❞
| Name |
"Name’s Kory Kolkin. Though..”
| Nickname |
"You probably know me better as ‘That shit face’, ‘Emo’, or ‘Poser’. In reality though, I have been called KayKay by some of my friends, or Korky.
| Gender |
”yeah I sorta look like a chick, but I’m a dude.”
| Age |
"17”
| Sexuality |
"You think I have time to focus on shit like this? Agh, I’m confused, that is what I fricking am.”
| Role |
Child Abuse - “You tell anybody, and I will kill you.”
| Face Claim |
Ashley Purdy
| Eye Color |
"Brown - but that can change depending on HIS mood.”
| Hair Color |
"It used to be brown, but not anymore. I’ve dyed it black - like my freaking soul.”
| Height |
”I’m not that tall, but I think 6 feet is alright as a height...
| Weight |
”Well, this changes. I mean, some days I’m at my peak at around 140 pounds. But then there are those kind of weeks when I fall down to 120..
| Skin Tone |
”I’m not as pale as I could be - contrary to the popular belief of the idiots, I can tan.”
| Body Markings |
"Guess your eyesight sucks shit, huh. Well, my ears are pierced. For tats, I got too many of them, much to his dismay. Most of them hide the permanent marks that asshole has left on my body. The worst of them all, though? A massive gash that splits my stomach into a left and right side - broken beer bottles are not my favourite anymore. I get off by saying it was surgery."
|Grade |
”Junior - almost failed a few grades though, since I couldn’t get myself to school often enough. Teachers thought I was skipping - hah, if they knew.”
| Habits |
”Well, I start drumming on my pants when I get really bored or have to wait around. I have the awkward habit of also flinching really badly because of my homelife.
My new hobby - probably a bad choice - is getting into some... well, drugs. Screw alcohol, but weed and tobacco? Starting to understand why people love that stuff. I feel like, though, I may start experimenting with a littler harder stuff... I don’t know...”
As for hobbies, I play music: like, all the time. It is my release, so that is my hobby. I guess the only other hobby I have is reading. If I’m allowed to be left alone, I will read.
| Likes |
`Reading
`Angry/Heavy Music
`Playing the drums and bass
`My few friends
`Chocolate
`Whistling
`Humming
`Technology
`Being away from home
`Movies of any kind
`Escapism methods
`Birds
| Dislikes |
x Alcohol - “There is nothing worse in the world than that shit.”
x Him - “Back when I was a kid, he was ‘Daddy’ but he no longer has a name.”
x Her - “She doesn’t have a name anymore, but I used to call her mother.”
x Dogs
x Snobs
x Judgement
x Hypocrites
x Lies
x My House
x Me
x Video Games
x Sour Food
|Current Job |
”I’m surprised I’m allowed to even have a job, but I get to work at the local music store with Shay. Probably the only fun I can ever have.”
| Pets |
”I had a pet once - he killed it. I do have an injured sparrow hidden though, the only reason I want to go home.
| Personality |
”Well, I will give you two sides. The first side is what I have heard from the people that think I can’t hear them. To them, I’m distant, cold and ‘snotty’, thinking I’m better than everyone else. They think I’m poor and have no life, that I stay indoors from fear of sunlight and cut myself to sleep.
In reality, I’m just a product of hate. On the outside, I’m cold to make sure that nobody comes close to me. I’m distant because nobody could understand my pain. I’m so called snotty because others are always judging me, so I develop a thick hide to deal with their shit. I’m prone to rage outbursts because of their stupid ignorance, which makes me hate and fear myself. Yeah, I’m pretty depressed: who wouldn’t, when the concept of love has been eradicated from your memory?
I think the only person that has cracked me open is Shay. In truth, I’m really emotional - hence the term emo. I get really happy for things that excite me, or really defensive of things that I feel for. I want to protect others in my position, or others that are injured so that they can have another chance at life.
But my home life has changed me enough that my real side has vanished. In honesty, I actually cry myself to sleep quite often, powerless to stop him on the days that I can’t keep out of the house. I’m edgy about anything that reminds me of either him or her, and really have nightmares constantly.
In a nutshell, that is all I am: a shell of a human. I could have been something great, something amazing. Instead, I’m a worthless and useless human used as another's outlet.
| Future Plans? |
”You serious? You’re asking the suicidal kid what he wants to do when he gets older? How about asking IF?! Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Look, I just want to be free and leave home that’s all. Maybe become a musician or something.”
| Family |
”Shut the f*** up right now and leave. I ain’t telling you shit about Him, or Her.
... I’m an only child. She is named Dakota Everett, while his name is David Kolkin.”
| History |
”You want to know what goes on behind those doors, do ya? HUH?! Well fine! I will tell you just what F***** up shit goes on in my house.
I was born 17 years ago to him and her. At first, everybody was happy. He worked at the nearby auto factory, while she worked as a grocery store clerk. For a while in my life, there was peace between use three. I mean, they loved me and I... loved them. But that ended years ago, when I turned 4.
See, he has a bit of a drinking problem. It never affected their relationship for the 5 years they had been married before me, but it was still there. She, on the other hand, was a little bit of a skank. A whore. You get the idea, but I didn’t as a kid. One day, he heard a rumor floating around that she was doing a bunch of his co-workers, when she had only slept with one in reality. Didn’t matter, the fights started there, and the abuse started. It was small at first, he would just come home hammered, they would fight and he would hit her or something. By the time I was 6 though, she had had enough and left him for his boss. That was when he turned on me.
To him, I was the last remaining connection to her. While she had been able to get out, I wasn’t. He started taking out his drunken rage on me. Like with her, he started small: a few slaps here and there, nothing I couldn’t handle as a 6 year old. What I got for my seventh birthday changed everything: instead of that new bike, I got a hospital visit: he had pushed me out of my bedroom window during a drunken rage.
Ever since then, him beating me was as normal as rain came with clouds. I messed up anytime? He beat me for wasting his money. Ask to go to a friends house? He beat me because I was selfish. Stayed up later than my bed time? Knocked out cold.
This has continued onto the present day, though since I’m a little older he hasn’t knocked me out. He sickens me to no end, and I feel nothing for him, but instead I feel shame. How can I ever share my past with anyone, without being looked down upon? I can’t. I haven’t even told Shay, and she is the only one I can call a friend nowadays. I just... I just can’t say anything, so I won’t. But sooner or later, something is going to snap: and I have a fear that it might be me.