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HUNTER, Devon J.

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Devon James Hunter

Posted: Jul 12 2007, 09:09 AM

Group: pending
Posts: 5
Member No.: 85
Joined: 12-July 07

NAME Emee
AGE 16
EMAIL Gonna PM it to the admin...
OTHER CHARACTERS --
WHERE DID YOU HEAR ABOUT US? It was an ad on Waverly High.
____________________________________

NAME Devon James Hunter
NICKNAME DJ
AGE & DOB 28 -- January 14
OCCUPATION manages a local car repair shop
SEXUAL ORIENTATION straight

EYES brown
HAIR Naturally dark brown, but dyed black. He wears his hair in a variety of styles, including one where he had blonde hair with black spots. His classic style is a tall Liberty-spiked Mohawk. He’s been known to dye it outlandish colors around Christmas time.
HEIGHT/WEIGHT 5-foot-4 and 160 pounds
CLOTHING STYLE He normally dresses in black jeans and a shirt advertising something, a band or a brand of some kind. He's been labeled a punk before, but DJ doesn't like to be defined by the things he wears.
PIERCINGS/TATTOOS black and grey classic horror movie monsters along right arm, skull with cowboy hat and cattail in mouth on left side of neck, BEER and WINE across his knuckles. Gauged ears and left nostril is pierced.
OTHER NOTABLE TRAITS There is a small scar on his cheekbone from a barfight.

PB CLAIM Johnny Christ from A7X
IMAGE Right Here

BRIEF DESCRIPTION Devon is a man of short stature, but makes up for it with his bold style. Even though he is a mechanic and has to run a business, he is always decked out in something to represent who he is. His clothing is simple, being just tee shirts and black jeans. The shoes on his feet are usually beat up sneakers or, occasionally, steel-toed work boots.

To compliment his style, in and out of the car shop, DJ wears heavy layers of eyeliner. A sneer on his lips completes the “fuck you” look. Now in his late 20s, he stills dons crazy eye makeup, mostly just to make society question things.

LIKES
[+] strip clubs
[+] Reese’s Pieces
[+] loud music
[+] bar fights
[+] bar fights resulting in police action
[+] working on cars
[+] his baby – a 1979 Chevelle SS
[+] cartoons
[+] his nephew
[+] being a good uncle
[+] Jack Daniel’s whiskey
[+] smoking

DISLIKES
[-] people who underestimate him
[-] his height
[-] short people jokes
[-] being called Midget
[-] pepperoni pizza
[-] Seagram’s whiskey
[-] Paris Hilton
[-] blogging
[-] celebrity gossip
[-] super-skinny models
[-] people with no common sense

HABITS
[x] bites his nails
[x] drums finger when ansty
[x] nose twitches when angry
[x] gets snappy when hungry or overly tired
[x] dances around listening to the Top 40 countdown when he thinks no one’s watching

STRENGTHS
[+] Being able to make people laugh when things get tense.
[+] Fixing cars.
[+] Very intelligent, although he has only a two-year degree.
[+] Good with children.

WEAKNESSES
[-] Extremely bad tempered and easily provoked.
[-] Often gets violent when drunk.
[-] Not so good with public speaking and dealing with large groups.

GOALS/ASPIRATIONS
[x] To go back to school and get more education, maybe in the field of management.
[x] To buy an old car and fix it up to put in auto shows.
[x] To be able to go to bar, drink, and not get pulled away by a guard or cop.

LIST FACETS OF PERSONALITY Under the many layers of toughness that Devon puts on, there is a warm-hearted man. He has a one-of-a-kind sense of humor and a smile that would light up a room. Devon may not be good with large groups of people, but he is very good with small, intimate settings. He has a way of being the charmer.

However, you give him a bottle of anything with alcohol, and the person changes right before your eyes. No longer will he be a kind, gentle person. DJ turns into someone you would not want to take home to your parents. He becomes violent and cannot keep his mouth shut, often saying rude and obscene things that one should never say in public. He has become a regular at the local strip clubs, and the guards know that, around eleven or so, he will need to be escorted out and placed in a taxi. Three of the strippers complained that he was rude and wouldn't get within five feet of him. Two of those three quit.

MOTHER Eveyln Hunter (previously Porter) -- pediatrician
FATHER Kenzeth Hunter -- shop teacher at the high school
SIBLINGS Korey Hunter, 33
CHILDREN --

REASON FOR BEING AT LAKESIDE Devon is currently at Lakeside due to anger issues. He was referred here to recieve anger management counseling.
YEARS AT LAKESIDE He has been at Lakeside for only two months.

HOMETOWN Dallas, Texas

BIOGRAPHY Growing up in Dallas, Devon lived a comfortable life. His mother was a pediatrician and his father was one of the most beloved teachers at one of the high schools. They lived on an acre and a half of land, had a two story house with a pool in the back yard, four dogs, two cats, and a chicken. His older brother was not the typical older brother. He was not mean to Devon, and did not ridicule him for his outlandish taste in music and clothing style. In fact, Korey was the one who introduced Devon into the culture of punk rock.

During his junior year of high school, just after his father had retired from teaching, Devon found a new interest - cars. He was fascinated by the way the parts worked together and how every thing could affect the performance of the vehicle. It was interesting enough for him to persue it as a career, eventually forming his own repair shop.

His brother loaned him a bit of money to kick start the business and, in turn, Devon offered Korey a job doing the paperwork for the shop. Korey agreed, since he had a degree in business management and knew how to run a successful business. Wuithin a year, the two of them had opened a shop and began to draw in a steady flow of customers.

It was during that first year that Devon starting going to bars and clubs. Downtown Dallas was littered with strip clubs and bars. And the money that he was earning was a way to fuel his habit. Up until this time, no one had really ever seen the angry side of Devon's personality. But when alcohol entered his bloodstream, he became a different person altogether. This frightened everyone around him, especially his family. Korey threatened to leave the business if Devon didn't get his act together.

Six months after that threat was put out into the open, Devon was arrested and charged with assualt and battery. His mother and father bailed him out, but that was it. Devon had hit rock bottom and he knew it. Korey closed the shop indefinetly when DJ checked himself into a rehab and counseling center up in Washington, which he had researched on the Internet. He hopes that, with the help of the center, he can get back on track.

SAMPLE WRITING

QUOTE

Jamison sat on the floor by the bathtub, clutching a razor in his right hand. He didn’t know if he should do it or not, but he was seriously thinking about it. Everything in his life was messed up right now. His school life, his marriage, even his friendship with Drake. He was so uncertain about anything in his life right now. He had gotten a phone call a few moments ago from Charlise. It was finally happening. Her parents had finally found a way to break them up. Stupid racist bastards. He could hear the tears falling down her cheeks when she had been talking to him.

And now he was back to what he had done in high school. Jamison had done this several times to get rid of the stress that schoolwork and Drake’s problems placed on him. He hadn’t told anyone about this, not even Drake. Not even Jordan. It was a secret that he’d kept for over five years.

With a sigh, he grabbed the washcloth that was hanging from the towel bar on the wall and turned the faucet on. James made the water lukewarm and ran the rag under it long enough to get it damp. He rang all the excess water out of it and then turned the tub off.

He noticed that his hands were shaking almost uncontrollably. This would certainly prove to make this harder than it already was. He took the blade and placed it just on the skin of his left forearm. Because he really wasn’t ready to do it, Jamison studied the handle of the razor. It was his candle knife, actually. Him and Drake used to burn candles in their dorm room to make it smell better. That and because this particular blade had been Char’s.

It wasn’t until he thought about it being Charlise’s that he noticed there were tears on his cheeks. That gave him the motivation to do it. He pressed the blade deeper into his arm until he saw the blood pool around the metal. It stung a bit, but not enough. Closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see it, he dragged the blade down the length of his arm to his elbow. There was now a cut from the bottom of his wrist to the elbow joint.

Jamison stared at the cut for a moment as small streaks of blood began to dribbled down and around his arm. It felt strangely relaxing. He wasn’t sure why, but it did. He took a deep breath and brought the washcloth to the blood that was on his arm. It stung badly when the wet cotton rubbed harshly against the raw spot on his forearm.

“Goddamn it!” he hissed. He winced as he wrapped his arm up in the bloodstained cloth. James took a good look at it. It had been white before he’d stuck it to the cut. He was now starting to regret this. Really regret it.

Jamison sniffled softly and managed to move in front of the toilet and get the lid open. He brushed a piece of his hair out of his face and leaned over the gleaming white porcelain. He braced himself with his hands resting on the sides of the bowl. Without any warning, he was suddenly looking at everything he’d eaten that day. His breakfast, lunch, and the candy bar he’d had for a snack was now looking back at him in the clear water of the toilet. Another sniffle came out of his nose and he wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. This happened every time he made a track mark in his arm. He would look at it and be disgusted by what he’d done. But there was no way to take it back.

Reaching up, he pulled the toilet handle down and flushed down the bile that had collected in the bowl. Jamison sniffled and wiped his nose again. Somehow, he got himself up and in front of the sink. He bent over it and turned the sink tap on. He cupped his hands underneath the cold water that was flowing out of the pipe and put his face close to the shallow part of the sink. James splashed it up on to his face. It was a sobering feeling, the cold water. His face had felt flushed and burnt, but, once he felt the sting of the frigid water, he realized everything that had just taken place over the past five minutes.

He took another look down at his arm. There were now dark red-brownish streaks from where his blood had rolled down to the other side of his arm. Looking at the deep gash he’d placed in his arm, he felt the urge to vomit again. But he kept it down. He hadn’t cut himself since his senior year of high school. And now he had slipped back into his old way of dealing with his depression. Drake had used alcohol for an escape. Jordan had cocaine. Jamison had his razor and his own blood. The fresh sting of a new cut. And also the shame and humiliation that came afterwards.

Jamison wiped his face off with the towel that was hanging on the bar on the wall. He sighed and took a long look in the mirror. This wasn’t the picture he wanted to see. Char didn’t want to divorce him; he knew that. But it still cut him deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. Deeper than when Drake had gotten alcohol poisoning. Deeper than when Jordan had to go to the hospital because he overdosed on cocaine. This hurt too much to even describe how badly it pained him. He didn’t know how he could deal with this pain. He wasn’t sure if anyone else in the world had felt like this before. There had to have been at least one person in the world who understood his feelings, but it didn’t feel like that right now. James wasn’t sure if he wanted to be consoled. He needed to feel the pain for a while. Even if it hurt him this badly.

Shaking his head at his reflection, Jamison walked out of the bathroom and into his own room. It used to be filled with his and Charlise’s things, but now all that was in there were his own dresser and their full-sized bed. Nothing gave the impression that two people used to live in this room, share this room intimately. He sighed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

Scrolling through his list of contacts, his finger hovered over Char’s cell number. But he thought better of it and went down one to Drake’s. He pressed talk and waited for his best friend to pick up.

But Drake didn’t pick up. Jamison ended up getting the voicemail. Normally, he didn’t like to leave messages but this was an emergency. When he heard the beep, he began to record his message. “Dude, I really need to talk to you… Call me back when you get the chance. And call my cell phone. Bye.” He closed his phone and tossed it gently on the bed.

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