jarret layton

[Jarret Layton]

the real you;
name; Kertys
age; Seventeen
role-play example; THUD.

Oliver was on the floor again, grumbling and swearing to himself. Looking up at the empty room, he gave a sigh, his mouth no longer moving to form vulgar words. His lanky arms pushed his slender body off the ground and he got up, running laps once more. It was the only way he knew how to keep sane in a place such as this. All the walls were white, it was like being in an insane asylum or something. No fun, no fun at all.

He’d found his place. Peace was found in here. The gymnasium. No matter where anyone went, the gymnasium was always the same. The wood floor, and walls were still white, though. That needed to change. Now, if they got about fifteen kids in here, all smoking, every day for a month or two, about three times a day. That would be neat. An off white, almost yellow, look. He laughed to himself at this thought.

Trip.

He was on the floor again. Oliver didn’t hesitate to swear loudly and hit the floor. Not once. Not twice. On the third hit, he heard a small cracking sound, a sharp pain shooting from his hand to his elbow. He rolled over onto his back, his hand still balled in a fist, but clutched it to his chest.

“You f*cking moron…” Oli muttered to himself. How could this day get any worse? The bell. That meant people were going to be in there, and soon. He gathered himself up, pulling himself from the ground. His hand stiil stayed close to his chest, as if he knew something was broken. That sound hadn’t been the floor, so it must have been himself. With his good arm, he grabbed the bag his day clothes were in and slung it over his shoulder, making his way out as people were coming in.

To the infirmary. Oh, what a joy. They’d be happy to see him again. He was like mother nature visiting women. Once a month, he’d end up visiting the nurse’s, some injury popping up. What a dumbass. Once there, he gave a sigh and plopped himself in a waiting chair, his bag sitting next to him now. His brown hair fell over his face, not wanting to even be at Healing Pines. Oliver didn’t need to be there, there was nothing wrong with him. Okay, so maybe he’d taken too much of everything, gotten a bit carried away. But that was no reason to send a perfectly healthy child to something like a psych ward.

your character;
full name; Jarret Oliver Layton
age; Seventeen.
grade; Senior // Twelve
desired clique; rebel
physical description; Contrary to popular belief, Jarret does have naturally black colored hair, and would rather leave it that way. His hair is short, but not like many of the boys in this school, it sitting just past his ears and at his eyebrows. On top of this, his facial features are very pointed, his cheek bones being rather high, his skin almost being stretched across them. His nose isn’t large, but rather average sized.

When people see Jarret, he usually is dressed like he would be straight out of a catholic school. His button up shirts and random ties are his thing, but never tucking his shirt into his rather tight pants. His lip ring is something he did, just to defy his parents without caring what they really thought. Of course, his father wanted to rip it out of his face.

When he doesn’t dress like that, he typically has his normal jeans and random band shirts to go with his often worn black eye-liner. His eyes are deep blue, the black lining them almost perfectly.

Jarret is not a tall person, either. Nor is he a large set. His frame is rather on the thin side, and his height is below average.

history; When born, Jarret wasn’t the first child to the Layton’s, or to be the only child to be from to that family on that night. Jarret was born as a twin, the youngest of the two. He’d been slightly smaller, so less favored and thought of as the weaker. It didn’t matter to him as he got older, learning to acquire the attention he needed in different ways. By the age of eight, he almost had a habit of getting in fights and breaking his bones on practically a monthly basis. This was his way of getting love from his parents.

His parents had never been especially loving with any of their children when they passed the age of five and were able to dress themselves without help. But special treatment was given to Jarret, having always been smaller than the rest of his siblings; this special treatment he did not enjoy one bit, though. Once a week, their father would take Jarret out on these “walks,” no one knew what happened on them, for Jarry would never say. These walks quit when Jarret’s habit of breaking his bones came into play.

On these walks, though, Jarret had been abused. Not by the father, though; their father almost refused to even rab Jarret’s arm, finding it simply revolting. No, the father sold his son. A baby prostitute, in a sort of strange way.

In school, he found himself in many fights, being easily angered by other children’s words. He also found himself jumping at his own shadow when at home. He didn’t understand the memories he went though, them becoming vivid and often occurring nightmares. This was his way of acting in accord to them.

Because of all of this, Jarret started to resort to “pharmaceuticals” for the balance in his life. He’d steal from his parents, knowing that they would barely even notice the missing money from their wallets. Paying for these habits that he’d come to fall into, Jarret was rather falling into the category of being unsure if this was right. He’d started to substitute these things with cigarette’s, trying to quit. Now, Jarret hasn’t completely quit yet, but he’s been trying, having cut back a lot, but smoking more than he’d really thought he ever would.

personality; Jarret is rude, mean, and especially hates people who would even dare to try to harm his family. He could be the sweetest boy, if given a chance, but people who don’t know him that well give him one glance and find him one of the roughest people to try and reason with. He has had drug problems and is one of the biggest vegetarians and oen of the biggest protesters, and that’s what some people see at first when even bothering to give him a second glance. Then others, others see who Jarret Layton really is.

Jarret Layton is deeply troubled. He has no clue how to handle problems, but will deal with stress with no skin off his knuckle. Easily aggravated, though, he will get snarky with those who are rude towards him, being quoted as saying “suck the end of my nose,” his language habits having cleaned up, but only with women being in his presence. This brings me to my next point: Jarret is very aware of his surroundings at all times, and is truly kind to women, having grown up with a father who was abusive towards his mother.

Another thing most people really don’t see in Jarret, is that he is really a quiet person when in a room of strangers that won’t speak to him, refusing to start a conversation with people he doesn’t know. In a sense, he is a very shy person. He does not like to get into fights, but will stick up for himself when he needs to, which is why he tended, and still tends, to get in a lot of fights as a child and today. People have always called him crude names, and he finds that reason enough to get angry and stand up for himself, refusing to take that sort of behavior from anyone. He, though, never through the first swing, they only did because he’d come back with something rather mean about a family member of theirs.

other; lemon drops
picture;

[Marshall Suijen]

Looks good to me.

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