They say everything happens for a reason. that everyone is born and lives for a reason. and usually everyone is told their reason at age 10 by the mystics... Well that did not happen to me or anyone like me. and now i know that it sounds crazy. the mystics, the all powerful, future seeing beings not wanting to see my future, hell not knowing i exist as i never even went to see them. well see i am a shifter, born with the ability to shift into a single animal. not much is known about us shifters, since we are rare, but we are the freaks of nature. in most cases we are killed to keep from populating the earth with our "freak genes." but my mother somehow hid my identity at my birth. but thanks to her i have lived the most shitty, but turned amazing life ever. My lover has told me that i should tell my story, to let others know how it is to be a shifter. to help other shifters who may have survived and show that good things can come out of the shit hole. so after 26 years of living, i have finally started writing.
My name is Clinton Francis Barton, i am a Hawk Shifter and this is my Story.
Age 5
The first thing i remember doing as a child was running, hiding, and trying to stay away from my father. my father, mother, and older brother were the only ones who knew i was a shifter and my father hated my mother and i. my mother for she is the one who had decided i should live instead of die like my other shifter brethren, and i for i am not normal. My brother never truly loved me, but who could blame him.
Clint looked up at his father as the old man raised his belt again and brought it down on Clint's frail frame. The older man was drunk once again and had decided to take his anger out on Clint. tears ran down his face as the belt continued to hit his back, chest and stomach, Areas the father knew would be hidden by the shirt. The little boy was past pain at this point and could feel the gentle blackness of unconsciousness claiming him before the belt hit him one last time.
A few hours later, Clint slowly woke up with soft whimpers of pain. just feet away, lying on the couch, lied his passed out drunk father and on the floor lied his beaten mother, having also been beaten to an unconscious state. Clint slowly stood to his feet, whimpering before he noticed his brother was right next to him, glaring at Clint. "this is all your fault fucking freak." Barney hissed at his brother before the older male finally left Clint alone.
the young blue-eyed blonde stared after his brother before tears finally fell down his face again and he limped off to his room, holding his stomach as he tried to figure out where he felt the most pain. once finally in his room, Clint grabbed his worn out stuffed bear, curled up with it under his bed and fell into a pained filled sleep. the teddy bear clutched tightly in his grasp.
The next morning Clint could hear his father banging around just outside the door before finally slamming his bed room door open, but Clint did not move from his hiding spot. after moments have passed, the old man had finally left Clint's room to drink more beer and actually get ready for work. Clint could hear his brother walk past his open bedroom door, getting ready for school and after 30 minutes had passed, his father and brother had left the house. Clint finally crawled out from under his bed to see his mother. he noticed her pained, depressed look and saw her small smile. "i am so sorry Clint." his mother murmured as she walked over to the little boy. "it was my fault that you and i are in this mess." his mother said.
"mama...what do wou mean?" Clint asked, still having trouble pronouncing his y's. "baby, it is my fault we are being beaten. i have always wanted a second son...but instead you were born." His mother said as she ran his fingers through Clint's bright blonde hair. "it it my fault you have so much hatred toward you from your father and brother. and it is my fault that you are a freak." His mother said as tears poured down her face.
"i was not faithful to your father, but i did not know that i was unlucky enough to have been with a shifter...and you are like your real father, a shifter." the said as she gave him such a sad, broken smile. "but i will make this better, for the both of us." she promised Clint as she pulled out a knife from the waist band of her sweat pants. it was obvious that she had planned on killing herself and her son after her husband and oldest son had left the house. "it will be best for us Clint." she told her son, first cutting her wrists, cutting deeply to make sure she would die. "you won't live to be a freak...you won't live to shift. it will be best baby" his mother murmured softly.
at this point Clint had stepped back in fear as he saw the blood pour from his mother's wrists. "mama...what are wou downg? mama what is the red stuff!" Clint cried, scared by all of the red liquid. "Clint, come here, i promise it won't hurt for long." his mother murmured, giving him a small smile, that seemed lighter now that she was going to die. "we will be in a better place." she promised her youngest son, but Clint shook his head and ran, as fast as an injured boy could, from the room and outside calling for help. he wanted help so his mommy could live. but the neighbors had already left for work and by the time Barney had gotten home from school, Clint was a mess and their mother dead.
It was just hours later, with Barney yelling abuse at both Clint and the corpse of their mother for the police to knock at their door with news that their father had been in an a accident and had died. the police soon discovered the body of their mother and within 30 minutes the of the discovery, Clint and Barney had been taken away by social workers to the closest orphanage.
It was during this time i was questioned and questioned on why i had been covered in blood and what had happened. but for years i had gone selective mute. no one knew what my mother had told me. I never wanted anyone to know what had happened, but i believe this to be a very important factor of my story. and even though there are some shifters who have never had to deal with this, they may relate to being called a freak. i will later tell you on how to spot a young shifter as shifters usually do not start shifting until the age of 10. though that is not always the case as there have been some early birds and late bloomers.