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Paul Ramone's Lost Bio U/C |
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 Dear Readers,
This section is the Biography for my Character, Paul Eli Ramone, a RED Pyro I created for a TeamFortress2 RP. None of this section is true and all the names are pure fiction. Any relation to true events in History is pure coincidence. WARNING: This section contains child neglect, child abuse, horrible parenting, animal violence, non-con *****, arson, and graphic detail.
  "Some people are so unhappy with their own lives that they must make life miserable for someone else to make their problems seem insignificant."
Paul Ramone was born in Ffestiniog, Wales on March 12. His Mother’s name is Lisa and his Father’s name is Raymond. The baby had gotten his bright orange hair from his Father while his olive colored eyes were inherited from his Mother. They were not married when Paul was born but the birth was not unexpected, however, it wasn’t exactly welcomed. Lisa had wanted a daughter where as Raymond hadn’t even known that Lisa was pregnant until a month later when she had showed signs. But instead, a son was born. Since Lisa and Raymond weren’t married, she left three months after Paul had been born, leaving the baby with it’s illegitimate Father. Where Lisa vanished to only people could guess.
 Age 2
During the first two years with a baby, Raymond wasn’t exactly a happy man. In fact, he had looked at his son with something of hatred. But he would not stoop so low as to kill a child, nor did he want the news of him having a son without a wife to be spread around town, so he moved him and Paul out into Snowdonia where no one would know them. Raymond had several ideas of how to get rid of his son. Putting him up for adoption was one of the first options, but Wales hadn’t legalized such things yet. After the next year, he finally came to the realization that he was going to be stuck with the child. Raymond turned to drinking and buried himself in his work which was mining oil. He often left Paul with the old lady down the street.
Age 3-6
Paul was three when this began. As the years passed, Paul saw more of Mrs. Henderson than he did his own Father, and was often admitted to spend the night because his Father worked through the whole night. In actuality, Raymond never worked passed six pm. He would spend the rest of his nights at bars, getting drunk and enjoying his nights with a lady companion. He hardly remembered he had a son except those times when Mrs. Henderson would stop by and tell him how Paul was doing. During this time, the young boy was helping the elderly woman take care of her two dogs and one cat, learning how to feed them, groom them, and other things. Paul was seven when his Father finally showed any interest in him, and that was only because Mrs. Henderson was to be put into the Hospital because of osteoporosis inflammation and the cold weather agitated her arthritis.
Age 7
The seven year old boy often asked his Father, when he could, when Mrs. Henderson would be getting better. Raymond would tell him that their neighbor was doing fine and just needed to rest in the Hospital for a while until she felt better. Paul walked down the street to her house everyday to take care of her pets. Winter hit when he noticed that the animals no longer had any food to eat. Mrs. Henderson would usually go into town and buy a bag of food, but she was still in the Hospital. Paul had no money of his own so he would ask his Father. Raymond thought it absurd that a seven year old would ask for money. When Paul tried to explain why he needed it, his Father simply said that animals had ways of finding food. That they would be fine until Mrs. Henderson got out of the Hospital. Paul believed him. But that changed after a week. He went over to check on the two dogs and one cat one morning when his Father left for work. What he found scared him senseless. There was blood on the carpets and matter tufts of fur everywhere. William, the cat, was nowhere to be found. Jersey and Houser were in the dining room, fighting over something that looked like an animal you would find lying dead in the street. Paul realized that the two dogs were fighting over William, the cat. Jersey, a German Shepard who normally wouldn’t hurt a fly, tore the rest of the cat from his brother and ran out the back door. Houser, a Bloodhound, licked at the blood on the floor and off of his muzzle when it turned it’s beady eyes at Paul.
Raymond, his Father came home later that night with another Lady friend to a quiet and dark house. He called out Paul’s name to see if he was home but got no answer. He shrugged it off, thinking that the boy had slept over at Mrs. Henderson’s house again. Too wasted to care and too horny to even think about it, Raymond enjoyed the rest of his night of having the house to himself.
Two days later, the local Police had come knocking on Raymond’s door with a child in their custody. At first, Raymond thought Paul had done something wrong and said he’d take care of his son. But the Officers shook their heads. They walked into Raymond’s house and set Paul’s body on the couch. He was covered in a white Hospital sheet, sleeping. The Officers than proceeded to ask Raymond a series of questions like where he was, why had he not noticed that Paul was missing, or why they were even there. Raymond answered truthfully, figuring Paul had been at Mrs. Henderson’s to take care of her pets while she was in the Hospital. His story checked out, but the Officers explained that the animals had been starved to the point of eating one another. A neighbor had called the Police when they said that they heard a rapid succession of banging coming from next door, followed by screams. They hadn’t bothered calling then, but went over to check if everything was alright. When no one answered, they began to worry and phoned it in. When the Police went in to investigate. They were met with two rapid dogs trying to tackle them to the ground, snapping at their heels and legs. They had to call Animal Control to get the dogs out of the house. Further investigation of the grounds revealed nothing. They began to pack up and leave when someone noticed that there was an unusual blood pattern leading upstairs and into Mrs. Henderson’s room. They followed it and stared at the claw marks left in the wooden floors. They were met with a closet door covered in claw and bite marks. The corner of the door looked like it had been torn forcefully with teeth. The dogs had tried getting inside for some reason. When they opened the door, they found Paul in the corner buried underneath Mrs. Henderson’s petticoat.
They had to take the boy straight to the hospital. Paul was fine except that he was dehydrated and was suffering from blood loss. The dogs must have got to him when he tried to run. His ankles were torn till skin was flapping uselessly against the ground. They had deemed Paul lucky because if it had been any worse, he would have never been able to walk again. His ligaments had been untouched, his bones scratched, and his skin scarred. They told Raymond that he would have to watch Paul closely for a while, that he shouldn’t walk for another three weeks, and that the bandages would need to be constantly changed to avoid infection. Raymond told the Officers he would do so. Raymond did what he was instructed to do, taking care of his son more in those few weeks than he had his entire life. But it wasn’t done in sincerity.
Raymond knew it was somewhat his fault that this had happen to Paul, and he owned up to it, taking care of Paul till he was fully recovered. But during those weeks, Ray had grown to resent his son more. Paul couldn’t do anything himself, needing his Father constantly at his side. Changing his clothes, going to the bathroom, taking a bath, needing food, carrying him from one room to the other. In this time, Raymond wasn’t able to bring anyone over, and it drove the man a bit edgy, tense, irritated, and abstinent. He would drink every night while Paul rested in bed, sleeping.
Paul on the other hand actually enjoyed his time with his Father. He had been socialized with an old lady for most of his life. Being around another guy gave him someone to look up to, to take after. Unknown to his Father, when Paul was with him in the same room, he would do exactly what his Father did. If Raymond propped his feet on the table, Paul slowly lifted his own legs to mirror his Father. When the man crossed his arms over his chest, Paul did the same. Raymond would drink from his beer bottle, Paul drank from his cup. The only time Paul couldn’t mimic his Dad was when the man left the room, or went to work, leaving Paul alone to do nothing but wait.
Paul recovered nicely over the month and soon he was back on his feet again. Raymond couldn’t have been happier, but his son had to stay home. Mrs. Henderson’s house had been repossessed. Paul had tried to go back but the door had been locked and a notice was tacked to the door. Paul asked his Father about it. Raymond simply answered that Mrs. Henderson had moved away, and that her house was up for sale. In truth, Mrs. Henderson had not survived that winter and died in the hospital. Paul was heartbroken that his nanny had moved away, leaving him alone with nothing to do. He had to pick up new hobbies. So while his Father was at work, he cleaned up their house, washed the dishes, made the beds, disposed of the trash, and even tried to cook. A few times he had burned himself, his fingers in general. His hands were too small to hold up the pans and pots properly and he often had to make a sudden grab when it began to tip or fall, touching the heated bottom steel.
Age 8-9
But when he turned eight, Paul had got the hang of cooking food, making breakfast for his Dad and himself, and often times dinner if his Dad had come home early that night. A few times, he even made breakfast for some of his Father’s lady friends when they stayed the night. They often complimented Raymond on having such a wonderful and talented son at such a young age. Paul ate up the little praise he received eagerly. It was then that he liked his Father’s companions of the night, and often asked if he was going to bring someone over. Raymond ignored him, didn’t even think it was strange that his son asked when he was going to bring the next prostitute over. It continued like this until Paul reached nine of age. Raymond had something of a reputation for chasing tail now, and had slept with almost every available woman in town. Now, he was being turned down. Even the regular whores didn’t want to come over anymore. Raymond thought of moving to another town but the Oil well here was bountiful and kept money in his pocket. Money over pleasure, Raymond stuck with it, but his resentment for being denied his basic need was beginning to show. He would snap at Paul at the smallest mistake, force him back into his room for talking too loud, throw things at him when Paul would stare at him for too long.
Paul had no idea what had happened to his Father but knew it had to do something with the lack of friends that came over now. Paul never asked about it though. He had asked one time if his Dad was going to invite another one of his friends over for the night. Red with anger at such a stupid and infuriating question that reminded him of his prison, he threw an empty bottle at Paul’s face. It cracked but didn’t shatter, but a jagged edge has cut across his cheek, scarring the right side of his face. He tried to keep away from his Father as much as he could after that, shutting himself up in his room, or hanging out in town while Raymond was at work. Tensions only continued to increase whenever the two were in the house together and Paul could sense he was in danger in some way, but wasn’t sure.
Age 10
Another year passed like this and Paul was constantly on guard, afraid to fall asleep before his Father now. When Raymond wasn’t working, he was constantly drunk. And being inebriated led the man into some dark places in his mind. Paul was afraid to fall asleep when he woke up one night with his Dad standing over him, a pillow in his hands. Raymond was muttering and mumbling under his alcohol-ridden breath about how it was all Paul’s fault, and if he didn’t exist, he’d be happy. Paul wasn’t sure what was wrong with his Dad, but he never told anyone else. His Dad went out everyday and no one ever said anything to him about how his Dad acted at work. So, Paul believed that his Father’s behavior was normal, typical, and everyone went through the same thing he did. So, there was no point in telling the Grocery clerk behind the counter, to the man who sold the newspapers at the magazine stand, or the nice lady who sold flowers on the street corner. This was normal. This was the life everyone lived with and people just didn’t talk about it. But Paul was slowly losing his mind. He needed sleep, he needed positive attention, he needed his Father.
The Summer and Winter seasons were the worst. The drastic temperatures made his Dad very irritable when he came home from work. Cursing about how hot it was outside, or growling about how he couldn’t work with the heavy uniform he wore to keep the cold from reaching his bones. It was now that Raymond knew Paul could cook that he expected a warm meal on the table when he got home from work. Since his time wasn’t abided with women, he came home curtly at six-thirty. Paul made sure to have everything ready before then. He would rather avoid rousing his Father’s anger in any way. And for a while everything seemed to be working out just fine.
Age 11
Paul hadn’t taken it seriously at first. Really, he just thought that his Dad had gotten better somehow. Probably made new friends or found a different outlet for his raging emotions. Lately, Raymond had been nicer to his son since in a long time. It was small at first. Raymond invited Paul to eat with him when dinner rolled around instead of banishing him to his room. He even complimented Paul’s cooking and how clean he kept the house. Raymond made the joke that with Paul around, he didn’t need a wife. That made Paul beam with pride. His Dad never complimented him before.
 SikFox · Sun Jan 10, 2010 @ 02:37am · 0 Comments |
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