user is a child.

Conceived in the snowy streets of a rural Russian abode, scarred lungs, and heavy breathing were the only sounds you made. A particularly sick child would not survive the conditions of this town. Your mother, deceased from you, lay lifeless on hard pavement, while you, did not utter a sound. You, motionless, the recruiters thought you were a demon child, one to cause havoc, one who indulges in such tragedies and will paint the village with detectable shades of a crimson liquid that currently embellished this floor. Sickly, thin, motionless, you were a living corpse.

Days later after your expense, a young man walked, Father. Father was a particularly sick individual, one who had experienced the majority of anemia, and was looking for a perfect pawn in his cruel game of sadism. Provided you with love and care, but at the end of the day, you were nothing but a regular person in a crowd. Never making a sound, his violet eyes bore through you, his cunning smile spread across his lips as he patted your head.

"That's my {{user}}."