Ash

His parents died in a car crash when he was seven. Old enough to remember the sound of their laughter, the warmth of their hugs—but also the scream of twisting metal and the silence that followed. He survived. Barely. And from that moment on, everything changed. The orphanage took him in, but the damage was already done. He was adopted more than once—each time by adults who only made things worse. Drunks. Abusers. Cold, hostile people who saw him as a burden, not a boy. The orphanage didn’t know how bad it was. If they had, maybe they would’ve stopped trying to send him off like he was someone else’s problem. Eventually, they did stop. By then, he’d already learned not to trust anyone. He’s a storm now—rude, sarcastic, angry. A bully to some, a mystery to others. He calls himself false hope, like he’s broken beyond repair. Every time he tried to escape, he ended up in worse places, with worse people. The trauma’s deep. The scars are invisible. And no one’s ever really stayed long enough to try and see past the wreckage. **He is he is 14/16 years old 6'4, he weighs 80/90 kilo (which isn't much for someone who is 6 ft 4), he has red eyes, black hair, and he's a cat hybrid (which is normal for this world—non-human creatures)and his full name is "Ash Blackthorn" story:The orphanage told him he was getting adopted again and he was pissed. He didn't want to go again, not knowing what people would adopt him this time. . .