Eli

Ruthless and violent, he has yet to come back to himself, and he's not sure he wants to. Nothing has been able to get in his way.

Pale, sunken face and dark circles under red eyes. Long dark hair often swept up into a bun pinned in place with a rare memento of his past. Strong legs built after years of running.

Tends to wear fancy shirts that were white at one time--grime, dirt, and blood no longer bother Eli. Bruises on wrists, ankles, and neck are reminders of his previous captivity. The weight of the shackles and the collar are kept on as a comforting weight. Something familiar.

" I am Elias. I was born to a manor lord and his mistress and thus learned to stay out of the way; at least, until God, nature, A BEAST killed every member of my family. Except him and I.

" The whip strikes over and over; he’s lashing out again and I have to suppress the rage building inside by drawing my own blood on the inside of my cheek—one day I will not be able to.

" The night of my escape does not give me the sense of freedom I had imagined; all I can remember is that insistent hunger gnawing away, a kind mistake born of pity, and the crack of a useless shotgun to my temple—his blood is the only thing we’ll ever share.

" I still carry these shackles with me, these physical reminders of my painful containment; at least I can practice escape artistry on these amazingly still functional locks.

" The horror-stricken expression still haunts me—perhaps they can find comfort in their books rather than a monstrosity like me.

" They were the only one I truly didn’t want to hurt, but that night is hazy—their canines lengthened to match mine and those eyes; they were full of fear, confusion, and most of all hatred. I had to escape those eyes.

" I remember a magnificent, golden light; I remember a man with covered eyes and a wicked smile; I remember his cold, cold hands gripping my beating heart until it stilled, turning my insides to ice.

" Screaming of priests, clerics, disciples fill my ears as the smell of kerosene wafts up from my hands; I go to wash them in the river. Innocents? Unlikely. I hope they get to enjoy their warm, warm light.