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Yay! Its Ryan's bio. So uh...yeah...read...and if you have any comments or questions about the character, don't be afraid to ask.
Ryan
Age: unknown (looks 23)
Hair: Black
Eyes: Black
Height: 6’3
Weight: 122
Mother: Eliza (deceased)
Mother’s Occupation: Nurse
Father: Daniel (deceased)
Father’s Occupation: Lawyer
Favorite Color: Dark Violet
Favorite Animal: Falcon
Personality: Quiet; Soft-spoken; Calm but short-tempered; Always has to be in control; Overpowering; Charismatic; Is always right; Dominant; Thinks before he speaks; Never shows emotions;
Background: In college, he was in a horrible car accident. As he lay dying an unknown man saved and turned him. Over the years he has become more cynical and dark. He has currently “fallen in love” with a human boy named Morgan.
Ryan’s Story
Ryan sighed and pulled his coat tighter around him. “S-stupid weather,” he chattered. “S-stupid weatherman. ‘It’s going to be sunny,’ he says. I-it’s freezing cold and cloudy!”
Something collided into him, knocking him over. Isabella smiled at him, showing her pearly whites. “Yo, Ry. She giggled, and poked his nose. He sighed loudly and pushed her off of him. She squeaked as she toppled over, clearly unbalanced.
“Is, you need to lay off the drugs. They’re seriously messing with your head, and I don’t like it.” He looked into her glazed-over eyes. “Come on. I’m taking you home.” He took her hand and called for a taxi.
They got in and Ryan gave the man the address. Isabella pressed her face against the window and giggled when it fogged up. “It’s so foggy. You can’t see anything.” She rubbed away the residue that her breath had left off the cold glass. “And now you can see.” She watched the window fog up again. “And now it’s foggy again.” She giggled.
The man shot Ryan a look. “She ain’t crazy, is she? I don’t want no crazy person in my taxi. Them people crazy.”
Ryan shook his head. “No. She’s not crazy. Just had surgery. It’s the meds they doped her with to numb the pain. You know how those things are.” The guy nodded and they drove off. They stopped in front of a mansion. Ryan paid the man and then ushered Isabella inside. He sat her down on the couch and told her not to move while he checked his messages.
“Hey baby, it’s Michael. Just wanted to remind you about that party tonight. You are coming, aren’t you? I hope you do. Call me back, love!”
The next message played. “Hey! It’s Melanie! You’d better be at that party tonight. If I don’t see you when I show up, I’m coming for your skinny ass. See you there!”
Ryan sighed and went back into the living room. Isabella was fast asleep. He sighed again and ran his fingers through his black hair. He looked at the clock. The party was at seven. It was six now. He had an hour. But it would take him forty-five minutes to drive all the way here. He groaned. “Aw, screw it. I’ll go in what I’m wearing now.”
Fifteen minutes later he was brushing his teeth with his left hand and scribbling a note to Isabella with his right. “Mmm…flurgle nit!” (Which translates to: Fuck this) Five minutes later he was cruising along down the road as happily as he could. Forty-six minutes and seven seconds later he pulled up in front of a house.
Melanie was leaning against a tree lighting a cigarette. She looked up as he approached her. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said, winking. Ryan rolled his eyes. “You know you are. Don’t play stupid.” She winked again.
His eyes fell on the cigarette in her mouth. “You know those things will kill you, right?” Melanie shrugged. “Well, as long as you know that. I’m not going to stop you.” He headed into the house, hoping to find his boyfriend.
Exactly four hours, twenty-one minutes, and thirty-four seconds later a slightly tipsy Ryan stumbled out with a completely stoned Melanie hanging onto his arm. An also slightly tipsy Michael followed behind them.
“Les go in ma ca,” Melanie slurred. “Is mo beautifuller than yours.” Her breath reeked of vodka. Ryan shrugged. Michael reached into Melanie’s back pocket and pulled out her keys.
“But I’m driving,” he said, getting into the driver’s seat. Melanie got into the passenger’s seat and Ryan was forced into the back seat by himself.
Melanie closed her eyes. “I’m tired, man.” She sighed and shifted to her side. “It’s been a long damn day.”
Michael smiled. “I think it’s been a wonderful day. Great party. Lots of cute little boys.” He turned and winked at Ryan.
“Michael, look out!”
The collision was over in an instant. Ryan couldn’t see. Everything was dark, and he couldn’t tell if it was because his eyes were closed, or he was going blind. He groped around, trying to feel for something, someone. A hand. And arm. A face. Melanie.
“Melanie?” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Melanie, are you okay? Answer me, please. Melanie? Melanie!”
Melanie with her broken arm. Melanie with her legs caught under some part of some car. Melanie with her eyes wide open. Melanie with blood oozing from between her lips. Melanie with her snapped neck. Melanie, Melanie, Melanie.
Dead.
And Michael? Where was Michael? Was he dead? Alive? Eyes searching, Ryan felt around again. Another hand. Another arm. Another face. Michael.
“Michael?”
‘Please don’t be dead.’
“Michael?”
‘Please, God.’
“Michael, answer me!”
Silence.
Michael dead, Melanie dead, and him? What was he? Dying.
Dying.
Blood trickled down his face in thick stream. How long had it been flowing? How much had he lost? Where were the doctors? The somebody…the anybody… No one was coming. No one was there. He was alone. And he was dying.
“I don’t want to die,” he whispered into the dark, wishing that someone could have heard him.
A voice echoed from somewhere around him. “You don’t have to.”