Evan Dean Thompson II

[Evan Dean]

EVAN DEAN THOMPSON II

Name ; Evan Dean Thompson II
Nickname/s ; Ev
Age ; 22
Gender ; Male
Birth Date ; February 2, 1987
Issue ; A total junkie. He got into the worst of the worst

Height ; 6’ 8”
Eye Color ; Blue Grey
Hair Color ; Dark Blond
Hair Style ; Semi long, goes about to the middle of his ears, slightly messed and a little layered.
Detailed Appearance ; Even is a normal looking guy, or he used to be. Now, his once grayish blue eyes are sunken in and almost a steal grey. The have no life left in them at all. They used to sparkle and be full of life. Now they just sit there in his head, dead. His face used to be full of color and he had the smoothest skin. Now it’s white like gray and papery. He constantly has a stubble beard on his chin. His once to die for strait white teeth are now slightly yellowed and all icky from all the drugs and alcohol. His muscle tone dwindled till he hardly had any. He used to be able to bench 200 easily. Now he can hardly lift 50.
Summed up Appearance ; Once super model amazing, he now has shrunken eyes, yellowed white teeth, and seams to have no life left in him.

Detailed Personality ; I used to be a sweet guy. I was normal. Now I’m just a stuck up jerk and an ass. I have nothing to life for and I’m constantly down. There is no reason to live and nothing to smile about. I used to see the glass half full, now it is half empty. I’m a rebel, refusing to follow any set of rules. I like to get down and dirty and never look back at anything in the past. There was nothing back then but a happy person. Like I always say, never dwell in the past. Always live your life as it is now, even if it’s a fucked up hell hole. I’m a pessimist and I refuse to take the out look of life like an optimist.
Summed up Personality ; Basically, a messed up person who needs to see the cup as half full, like he used to.
Detailed History ; I used to be the best of the best. Living in high style and partying almost every night. I got everything I wanted. Nothing was ever out of my reach. That was until the drugs and alcohol took over my life. At first, all I would do was take a joint here, a little drink there. Soon though, I had no life. The only thing I could think about was the drugs and alcohol. Normally I had everything I ever needed. Soon though, I found it harder and harder to get my drug money. My father cut me off from the family funds. My last withdrawal of two thousand was all I had to live off of.

My two K turned to one K after I bought a join. Can you believe that?! One K for a joint. What was this world coming to? So I set out with one K left, hoping to somehow get some more money. I applied for a few jobs. They liked what was on the paper, but couldn’t stand me. I hadn’t had a good meal in about a week. My eyes had started to shrink in by then and loose the little bit of life they had left in them.

Not able to get a job anywhere, I ran off with only five hundred buck left to my name. I was hardly alive. Eating just enough to keep me alive. Using the rest of my money to get what I craved more. Every few weeks, I would have to find something stronger, something that I could get high off of so I could leave the world behind.

After a year of roaming the streets, I finally ran out of my cash. I was so desperate, I tried to steal off a drug dealer. Turned out, he was an under cover cop. Right then and there he cuffed me and threw me into the cruiser. As soon as we got to the station, I was thrown into a cell with five other guys. The cell stunk so bad that I threw up. I was used to throwing up. After all, when you were always drinking and having a joint, you were bond to puke up a storm. My throwing up didn’t sit well with my cell mate. As soon as I finished, they started to beat me up. Two held me still while the three others hit me all over. The police came to my rescue just in time. My nose was broken, my skin had turned a nasty shade of purple and yellow, and I had some internal bleeding.

I was rushed to the hospital so that my bleeding could be stopped. While I was there, the hospital called my family. Once they had gotten the bleeding to stop, my nurse allowed my mother and father to come and see me. My mother cried the whole time, while my father just stared at me. I watched him leave. He walked out of the room and spoke to the police officer outside my door. They reached some kind of agreement. I would go to some rehab center and stay there instead of going back to jail. At the time that sounded good, but really, anything sounded better then going back to jail.
Relationships ;
Mother: Valise Renee
Father: Evan Dean I

[Evan Dean]

I walked with my parole officer to the plane that would be taking me to the rehab center that I would be calling home for the next two year, or until I was clean and back to as normal as possible. The handcuffs around my wrists were child sized. I had eaten so little for the past year and a half that they had to use restraints used for minors. My wrist was nothing but a thin layer of skin stretched taunt over bones. I had nothing on me. Not a single ounce of muscle or fat. If it wasn’t for the one meal that I was forced to eat each day, I would be dead right now.

As we got on the plane, I sat in the window seat. An extra handcuff was added to my right wrist and attached to the arm rest of the plane seat. The chairs were itchy and a puke color. But I could care less. I let my sunken eyes stare out of the window the whole ride there.

Once we reached the airport, me and my officer exited the plane. Grabbing my luggage, he walked to a green truck parked in the parking lot of the airport. A woman sat inside of it, not much older then myself. I ducked my head and stepped into the passenger seat of the truck. Sticking my wrists out, I let my officer take my cuffs off. Once I was free of them, my hands fell to my lap. Next stop, hell. I thought to myself as the woman backed out of her parking space and drove towards Broad View stables.

[admin]

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