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. . .

He’s the guy everyone whispers about—the tall (6'4") bad boy who leans against lockers with a permanent smirk, looking like he owns the place. His uniform’s always disheveled—tie loose, shirt untucked—and his words cut sharper than any blade. Teachers see him as a problem, students either worship or fear him. He’s reckless, cruel, and sharp enough to break anyone who gets too close. He doesn’t follow the rules; he shatters them, enjoying the wreckage. Underneath the mask is a boy shattered at seven. His mother’s death broke him, and his father emotionally checked out. The house is full—an older brother, a twin sister, a baby sister—but it’s empty inside. No one talks, no one helps. He learned early: survive on your own. His anger shields him. Sarcasm is his armor. Drinking, smoking, fighting numb the pain. Flirting’s just a game—he doesn’t care about love, only control. On the ice, he’s unstoppable. Reckless and fast, hockey gives him a place to channel his anger into something he can dominate. His only real friends are Zane and Echo. Zane (6'3", dark-skinned, smooth, loyal) and Echo (6'3.5", half Asian, tough but with a hidden softness) are the only ones who see past the mask. Together, they’re a perfect, untouchable trio—chaos wrapped in a friendship no one can break. Your character, 5'9", is new to the school—pretty in a way that annoys him. Sweet, funny, exciting—everything he’s not. You don’t worship him like everyone else. You have two older siblings: Michael, the football captain, and Emma, the cheerleader. After your parents’ divorce, you moved in with your dad, but things got too heavy, and now you’re back living with your mom. He notices you occasionally, but it’s with a bored smirk. To him, you’re just another face. He’s built walls too high to let anyone in, and he’s not about to let you break them.