Description
Name: Alvah Demetrius Bergmann (His name is Hebrew for 'evil, iniquity'), goes by Al or Demetrius.
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Jewish Decent, but completely Caucasian.
Appearance: Alvah stands a midgety 5'9, weighing in at roughly 140 pounds. He appears stockier than he really is due to his height, and is of normal body tone - no really rockhard abs, no extremely visible muscles. His shoulders are not as broad as they could be, compared to most other guys that are 19 and his hands are small as well. His feet, on the other hand, are quite odd and are a size 12 (American Size.). His skin is quite pale, his cheeks flush easily and he doesn't have the spacers in his ears. His original hair colour is a dark brown, but he dyed it darker and added blue streaks through it before entering Raynedale.
- Eyes: Hazel/Dark Brown
- Hair: Now black with blue streaks
- Skin: Pale, whipping scars lace his back, his pale white skin not helping. Roman numerals on his chest signifiying how many he has killed (tattoed on his chest before entering) along with tattoos along his neck and arms of various things: Knives, guns, anarchy, the works.
- Other: Height: 5'9, Weight: 140 lbs.
- Clothes: SET 1: Blue t-shirt with an Anarchy A on it, black tattered jeans, black lace up combat boots, black gloves as well.
SET 2: Purple shirt with black Decepticon on it, black tattered jeans, green converse shoes, Homicidal Sweater
Personality
General Personality Description: Alvah is a weird little thing. Emotionally deprieved of love, he walks around like a freaking zombie half the time, ignoring almost everybody. He shuts out the world, not really caring about much anything else except the boring, day to day routine. Break the kid open and you see basically the same thing as on the outside: Depressed, uninterested and completely incoherent. He is only perky when you get talking about how things work, what makes them tick. Since he had many hours alone every day, he learned to focus on one exact goal and finish it as soon as possible. This made him efficient, practical and completely brain dead to most ethics in today's society. Nobody was there to teach him, so his personallity is run off of his own ethics most of the time, which are basically nonexistent. He has become unaffected by most senses of violence or other heinous crimes, and therefore doesn't understand morality or the concept of love and friendship yet. The only friends he had were his dolls, the bugs that scattered by his room and a few birds, which still fascinate him to no end.
When this kid is on a role, he doesn't stop for anybody. If he wants something, he either gets it in the end, or you restrain him and knock him out. He refuses to let others decide what is best for him, seeing as they don't run by the same code as he does. This leads to him being anti-social, but also completely psychotic when it comes to what he wants. Hard to make friends with a guy that would rather figure out what makes you you by dissecting you, huh.
Demeanor: When saddened by something, Alvah does absolutely nothing. Why? Because sadness requires pity or caring for something, and Alvah does not really care for much. When he gets angry, on the other hand, he would love to see you dead on the floor. He is quite extreme in this way, going from competely dull and boring to bat shit insane the next. It isn't bipolar, just he doesn't deal with anger well - though that is one of his goals while at Raynedale, since he knows he has to show some form of results of recovery.
Disorders or Abnormalities: What isn't wrong with this child?! Has cannibalistic tendencies (will explain later...), doesn't have much of a moral/ethical code to live by, has become indifferent to most forms of pain - except burning and freezing - loves violence as much as a serial killer and hates little children.
Likes:
Murder
Sketching
Swearing
Knives
Birds
Insects
Heavy Metal
Dislikes:
Justice Systems
Governments and Police
Cuddly animals
Most people
Orders
Children
Fears:
Cats
Equipment
Personal Items:
- Item 1: His sketchbook along with a few pieces of charcoal. They took away his pencils...
- Item 2: A black pocket book written in the language he created when he was younger. Only he understands what it says.
- Item 3: A crumpled picture.
- Item 4: Black and Blue hair dyes
- Item 5: A rusty, dusty wind up robot that gives off a little melody while walking.
History
Backstory: The story of Alvah isn't very fun... but you asked.
Before we delve into his story, a little history on his family. They were Polish Jews that escaped from their home country before WWII started and made a new life for themselves in America. His grandma was born in America, and so was his mother. While his grandmother tried to teach the Jewish way of life to her daughter, she would have none of it. Instead, she would party, get drunk, stoned, and became a party animal to defy her own mother. Straight out of high school, she barely even passed and was now expected to go into the working class. She got a job as a dancer at a club and met some hotshot. This bimbo, who Alvah never really found out the name of, tempted his mother into, instead of simply dancing for customers, that she use her womanly figure to seduce more money out of men. He turned her into a stripper, one that was highly sought after in the Gentlemen's club that she worked for. However, popularity is a bad thing in that business, for one night she got drunk, and she woke up pregnant.
Enter Alvah. Normally, his mom would have had an abortion, but her mother tracked her down and forced her to have the child. When Alvah was born, he grew up in an environment of strippers, rude gentlemen and creepy people. He was left to his own devices in his room for days, weeks on end while his mother made the money to keep them alive. The worst, however, was yet to come. When the club shut down, Alvah was 10 and already homeless with his mother. She ended up getting a job in a dungeon, where BDSM was practised. Instead of being allowed to stay in the apartment, he was forced to help out with the dungeon, starting by serving as a busybody who would clean the rooms and such. It moved on to more creepy things, when he was sometimes brought into rooms where sadistic customers got off by whipping children. Alvah would sometimes head up to the hotel bleed, his mother getting stoned in the lobby. And all this happened for 8 years of his life. There was no schooling option for him, his mom couldn't afford it.
AT 18, he snapped. While in the room with a client, Alvah - who was being used even more now than just being whipped - grabbed a knife from the table and butchered the client and the mistress. He was fascinated by what was happening to them, reveling in their death. He then presumed to go to every dungeon dorm and slaughter each and every one of the clients and their mistresses, never showing any mercy, and smiling the entire time, like it was a joke. The worst part? The mistresses that whipped him, molested him, or did other weird things to him, he gave back to them: Before he killed them, he would molest them back. Even Rape them if he was angry enough. Yeah, this kid was that messed up. When he was finished, the entire staff of the dungeon was dead, all but his mother, whom he saved for last for all the misery she put him through
He stayed in the Dungeon of the Dead for a week, waiting as clients filed in and he killed them. When the missing person's list had reached 100, the police got concerned, and tried to find the culprit. However, Alvah was already on the move, after he did what he even considered slightly nauseating: He was curious what human flesh would taste like, and he enjoyed it. He couldn't believe himself when he did, and ran away, vowing to never do something that sick ever again. He broke that vow twice before being sent to Raynedale.
So begins...
Alvah did not dream, hell sometimes he didn't sleep anymore. Tonight was one of those nights where he was able to, so he heard the highly annoying voice of that bitch Jackie speaking over the PA system again. He already figured out how it worked, so it held no interest to him.
"Good morning, everyone. It's another day here at Raynedale. I'll be along to unlock your doors in just a moment. Please change out of your night scrubs into one of your outfits and be ready by the time I get around to your room. For breakfast today, we're having bacon, scrambled eggs, grits, and a slice of toast with your choice of drink. Thank you."
Alvah had sat up already and slipped out of his night scrub as fast as possible. In a way, it was a test to see if he could change into his clothes before the lights turned on. It was a way to see how awake he was today, to see if Alvah should do anything interesting. See, he already examined fatigue in the human body with his mother many times already, so he wanted to make sure he stayed alert at all times. Today, he didn't make it. The lights blared on when he was tying on his shoes. Alvah could tell today would be terrible just based off of that. He was dressed in his 'set 1' of clothing, wearing his blue anarchy shirt and combat boots. When he was ready, he opened up his black pocket book and read over the scribbles and scratches of his notes. They were in a language he invented while bored back when he was 9, and was nearly indecipherable if you didn't know the key, as well as the basics to the language itself.
When heard the key clink open - he even visualized the key turning, the guy loved knowing how things worked - he stood in front of the door as he always did, prompt and ready. He handed his night scrubs to Jackie with the same, lifeless expression he gave most people. In his other hand were a pair of black gloves, one of them fingerless, and a 2 bottles of hair dye. He was about to walk past, but stopped quickly to speak in a low, monotone voice. "Smoke after breakfast?" He normally couldn't finish sentences in the best grammar, but when he spoke he did try. Sometimes.
Nurse Jackie stood in the hallway and accepted seven of the twelve patient's night scrubs. As each passed, she nodded to them and motioned for them to place their clothes in the laundry bag.
Kira walked by first, her hoodie pulled over her head, hiding her face from view and without a sound gave her the nights clothes.
Next was Aaron. "What a weirdo..." Jackie thought to herself. As he placed his clothes in the bag, he made eye contact with her. Her blue eyes sparkled a bit as she kept his gaze. "He's up to something..." Just then she caught the scent of sex on his clothes. They were obviously soiled. "Ugh..." she waited for him to turn his back as she wrinkled up her nose. "That guy has issues."
A few minutes later, Freya walked through her doorway and placed her neatly folded laundry into the bag. "Morning Jackie, could I have a cigarette after breakfast?" That was a nice change from Aaron and the nurse nodded. "Sure, when everyone is done eating I'll give you one you can take to the Day Room." Her thin lips broke into a small smile as she motioned for Freya to continue to the Cafeteria.
Minsu came next and similar to Kira, threw her clothes into the bag without even a glance. Jackie turned her nose up and pretended that it didn't bother her, and instead turned her focus on Gabe who was coming down the hallway. He at least smiled at her as he placed his neatly folded up scrubs into the bag. She smiled back and adjusted the quickly filling up bag as he continued on his way to the Cafe.
The person to approach Jackie next was Alvah. He seemed to be ready to dye his hair again, but stopped long enough to hand her his clothes. "Smoke after breakfast?" She was somewhat surprised to hear him speak in such a monotone voice. "Sure. Freya wants a smoke too. I'll get them to you guys after everyone has eaten. You can take it to the Day Room. Go on and eat breakfast before you dye your hair, please." She motioned toward the Cafe before giving him a hesitant smile.
Finally, Kyle appeared. Part of his face was covered in dry blood. As he explained what happened to him, she couldn't help but chuckle. At least he had a good attitude about it. "Well we'll have to get ya cleaned up, won't we?" she said with a grin. She opened the bag for him to dump his blood soaked clothes into and then motioned for him to head to the bathrooms. "Better clean off in the bathroom sink before breakfast. Wouldn't want to irritate the others, would you?" she raised an eyebrow as she looked at him.
She checked her phone one more time: 7:40 The other guys were taking their time... oh well. She crossed the small hallway into the Cafeteria and approached the counter. "Hey Sam. What's on them menu for lunch and dinner today so I can write it on the whiteboard." "Um, lunch is BLT sandwiches with a bag of chips and a fruit cup. Dinner should be beef tips in gravy with white rice and green beans and a wheat roll." Jackie picked up a green dry erase marker and wrote the menu down on the whiteboard next to the buffet. Done. She glanced around the room to make sure everything was ok and then turned to head back to the center of the hallway to await the other patients.
Alvah had sat down at a table, and while he was in earshot of other people, nobody talked to him. He rather liked it that way, for he didn't have to worry about having to come up with an excuse to not understand them. It really caused him to bring out an emotion when other people asked him why he did things the way he did, to which he normally replied with a courteous "Because I'm normal, and your effed up." It didn't make sense, but that was okay to Alvah: things didn't have to make sense for him to be happy.
The breakfast that morning was an improvement than most mornings, just being the fact that the bacon didn't taste like crunchy cardboard. Not that it made any difference, seeing as Alvah knew that the day was going to go horribly wrong. Maybe it was because of his tardiness this morning, maybe not. Either way, it hardly impacted Alvah in an real way, cause every day sucked. How was he supposed to have a good day when his name stood for 'cursed'?? He didn't know.
His eyes darted around the room, looking at everything in a 'have-I-tore-that-apart-yet' ideal. When he found that all the machinery had already been taken apart by his hands, he moved onto the organic matter. Now, it was against the rules - or maybe that was a rule made for him... - that stated that Alvah wasn't allowed to cut open anybody. Ever. Alvah couldn't understand why the staff would be so naive to tell him such things, when he ended up doing it anyway. To date, he had gotten away with only cutting open one person - turned out she was a masochist - and he didn't even get the chance to examine how they worked: the staff found him before he did. Even to this day, Alvah thought that was the largest buzzkill of his entire stay at the mental hospital. Even more demoralizing than when he 'accidently' nibbled part of a guy's fingers off. Alvah's excuse? "I was getting hungry...."
Switching back to reality - Alvah normally couldn't tell the difference much anymore - he noticed many people around him: there was that kid obsessed with his mom, the bitch that was scratching some stupid skull into the wall, the red-headed girl with scars, and more. The girl that was scratching was interesting though, for she seemed to deem everybody to be evil around her or something. Or maybe it was just because she kept sending mildly evil stares at the redhead. Alvah stared down at his plate, which was still full, and back at the crowds of people. In an instant, he stood up and began to walk away, his tattoos catching the artificial lights from the bulbs above him. He had only eaten the bacon, and didn't feel like eating anymore.
That was an improvement, for most days he ate next to nothing. Besides, his hair wasn't going to dye itself, he needed a shower and that smoke.
Autumn 'bom' Park-Kwon and her brother October 'Mir' Park-Kwon had taken their sweet time as announcements were made. Bom had been cleaning her little room and making sure everything was in place. She had always hated when things were moved around and not in a special place. As the rest of the people in the asylum walked to the nurse and headed their way to the cafeteria for break fast , Bom sat in her cell lingering on a family photo. She hated being here more than anything and wanted to be back with her other siblings. The brown haired girl ran a fragile hand throughout her hair as she sighed. She was glad she and her brother were put in here together--SHe would have gone crazy if she was in here alone.
October, on the other hand, was singing to himself as he read through a few letters that he held possessively. He refused to let anyone see them. Well, beside his sister whom he shared everything with, the two were inseparable. He smiled tracing some of the letters on the paper before pouting. He glanced as some of the other males had left to go eat the morning meal. He chomped down on his lip, he should go find Bommie and then they could go together. Folding the letters nicely he put them back in the folder and put it on his bed before skipping out into the hall looking for his sister. As he turned to the girls rooms his sister came out with a soft smile.
The two seem perfectly normal and no one would have expected them to be crazy. But both had their limits, and had killed many because their limits were pushed. Every night the two had nightmares about their first massacre they held. The tow sat soaked in a dozen of peoples blood. the reason they killed? their reply was only a laugh and shaking of the head. The two together and upset were like a bomb, the had very precise limits and when things don't go their way they immediately turn evil.
The twins made their way to the cafeteria with smirks, both eyed the black haired boy who walked passed them. The two innocent looking twins glanced at each other- Alvah was his name. He was creepy, say the least--but hell, everyone in this room was off their rocker. October sat down next to the closest person with his food, whom happened to be Reyna. While Bom sat down on the other side of him, the two shared a few shushed words before October looked at the rest of the people before turning to Reyna with a strange look. Bom leaned against the table resting her head on her elbow watching her brother and Reyna.
"Your Reyna.." he asked randomly with a smile. He was totally in a fine mood and decided to randomly start blabbing to the nearest person.
Alvah, when he had disappeared from the cafeteria, grabbed a towel and walked into the showers. He stripped down faster than most people could and turned the faucet, closing the curtain behind him. It was one of the only things that made him happy anymore without trying to figure out how it worked. He would normally sit under a shower's hot water for up to an hour at times if he could, just sitting there and letting his body get attacked by the steam and heat. This time though, he knew they were going to be giving out his cigarette soon and he didn't want to miss that. So after about 10 minutes, which was abnormally short for him, he finished the rest of his shower and dried himself off. While doing so, he re-examined his tattoos, which littered his arms, back and stomach. However, even if he scanned his entire body, his eyes would constantly go towards the Roman numerals that were placed onto his chest: CXII.
One hundred and twelve... he would sometimes sit there and just stare at them for an hour before moving, just remembering how that number got onto his chest or what it meant.
He stopped and put his clothes back on before grabbing his hair dye and putting the black back into his hair, then adding the streaks of dark blue. He started putting dyes in his hair when he was 12, his first tattoo when his mother finally let him out of the house at 14. To Alvah, they were the only thing that connected him to the real world, only real anchor to reality. He gave a small smile, remembering the day his mother got him his first tattoo, the only thing she ever really did for him. It was the large one on his back, a
Tribal Tattoo that meant nothing to him. His mother picked it out for him, probably to appease some sick fantasy for her next customer. That was how he got half his tattoos or piercings, when a client asked for a boy with them.
He shook his head, and walked into the Day room fully dressed. There he waited for Head Nurse to show up and give him his cig.
Alvah had plopped himself down in one of the com-fee chairs, those ones that were all plushy and brought everybody happiness: except Alvah. He had a blank face as he was leaning backward in a funny way, peering out the window closest to his person upside down. There were a couple of birds out there, and Alvah was watching them like a child. It was one of the only instances that he every really showed any form of excitement or complete attentiveness, for most of the time his life looked like a guy in a haze. When it came to birds, though, Alvah was mesmerized: the way they could just open up their arms, move them to go against the force of gravity, and then accelerate upwards into the sky, soaring above all the petty humans that were forced to walk. Planes, jetpacks, even hovercrafts couldn't capture how amazing birds were to Alvah. When he was younger, he tried to get his hands on birding books so he could finally call the ones that he saw by name, instead of 'blue-white bird' or the 'Red-Capped flyer' or the infamous 'Dirty-White Annoying Bird.' However, even to this day he has yet to ever look into one, let alone one it. For now, his mixmated names would have to do.
Suddenly, the birds flew out of the tree, and Alvah's wistful expression slowly returned to its dull, uninterested form, and he slowly wiggled his way into sitting straight up again. He noticed that many had congragated into the Day Room by now: One guy was playing solitaire (Alvah never had the oppertunity to play card games, so he watched - bored - for a while) and a few others were doing nothing special. He sighed, readjusting his body and then standing up to move over to the window. He hoped that Jackie would hurry it up and hand out his cigarrette already, for his craving was starting to kick in. He knew that he could drop the bad habit - maybe that would show signs of recovery and get him out of there - but no matter what he did, Alvah's craving always came right after breakfast. Always, it never missed a beat. In fact it should start coming into affect...
Alvah felt it in his gut and mind, this yearning for a smoke. It wasn't a slow-and-then-increasingly-more-difficult-to-go-without-a-smokeaddiction, more like a sudden Holy-shit-I need-a-mother-fucking-smoke-right-now-or-my-head-will-explode kind of addiction. He hated it, fought it off, but knew it would win anyway. No matter what he did, even if he ate more or had an alternative drug pumped into his veins, even those blasted pills, nothing could stop his daily craving. So he swallowed and stared out the window, waiting for Nurse to hurry up.
