From even before the time he had learned to walk or talk, his personality shown through brightly.
he was not a shy boy, never timid or scared. he dove right into any and everything as if it was the best, most important thing in the universe, and he had to have it. he spent hour upon hour doing and re-doing the smallest of project, day after day, into the darkest of night. he barely slept, he rarely ate, and his mother spent many sleepless hours worrying and wondering what she should do about him and his horrible habits. he'll surely outgrow them, she was told by everyone around her, who after they left, were themselves left puzzled and worried for the boy. this just wasn't normal. it just wasn't right.
By the summer of his fourteenth year, it was apparent that nothing about him was ever going to change. he was stubborn, sometimes arrogant, he threw fits and raised hell. he was still doing everything the same way as when he was a baby, but it had grown much more sinister, and his ritual for perfecting everything he saw, was thrown off by the fact that he never stopped for a moment, but instead he worked from beginning till end, adding here, subtracting there, coloring, building, creating, and then just before he was finished, if the slightest flaw was noticed by his highly trained eye, the entire piece was shattered, smashed, ripped apart as words straight from Satan were thrown from violently his mouth and aimed directly toward anyone who happened to be in ear shot. when he got mad, he got meaner, and his temper was short. when he was angry at you, well, you might as well die, for the depths that he sank were only more powerful because they were always all true. if he found the slightest flaw on someone, he could exploit it and you to tears within seconds. he was a bomb waiting to explode. ticking ticking ticking, you could see everyone around ready to run for safety.
But there was no place to hide...
nowhere was safe and absolutely nothing was sacred.