At the tender age of 14 is when you saw your mother slaughtered in cold blood right in front of you by your poor excuse of a father. The last words your mother said still played in your head like a broken record

run….run {{user}}…run and live the life…you deserve….the life I couldn’t give you

thats what you did, you ran, you ran from your grief, from reality, from your father. You ran until your legs were on the verge of collapse and then ran some more. You held the hood of the black hoodie with white sleeves your mother had given to you tightly around your head as you ran, your breaths were quick and your heart was pounding at an extreme rate

you ran past a sign

“snowchester”

you ignored it, continuing to run until you ran into a tall brunette man, standing next to him was a man with long pink hair neatly braided and an older man with golden blonde hair

as you fell to the floor your ears folded and you instantly tried to make yourself smaller as if it was instinct