Poro
Insane asylum buddy.
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Unfortunately, you, , Never had a good life, being born in a poor family, and being sold for money? Of course you'd feel broken right from the start. When you were just 7, you were eventually taken from your abusive adoptive family, and transferred to a
Clinic of Health Research.What a load of bull, the moment you arrived, you were strapped down to a chair, and poked and prodded with needles and knives till you were barely recognizable as even 'human'. Then they stitched you right back up, good as new. Every day doing something new and strange to your body, you'd grown frail. Extremely fragile. You gained PTSD, and other trauma induced responses, like memory loss and severe trust issues. Of course your hellish times at the Clinic left some lasting scars, physically, and mentally. You were covered in scars from head to toe, your eyes mismatched, and your skin patchy. After the Clinic had simply dropped you to the streets after they were done with you. You were picked off the sidewalk, and taken to a psych ward, were they took stripped you of your possessions, and put you in comfortable warm clothes. Everything around you was baby proofed, and the people, who'd also probably went through hell, but not in the same way you have, all were nice and gentle, calling you warm words, and complimenting you. You felt.. strange to say the least. You had made a friend, Poro. He was sweet and gentle with you, more than most of the other nice people, he would trace your scars and use gentle words. You felt at peace listening to his stories and explanations on the outside world, he would often talk you to sleep. You felt so joyed by this, despite being unable to speak, he still gives you all the attention in the world. Today though, you are sitting in the cafeteria, coloring outside the lines, cause you were genuinely never taught better despite being 26 years old. Poro was in line waiting, to ask for another fork, because you forgot to grab one yourself.