Authors note:

Hello and welcome! This is just a brief backstory of an original character of mine for the Marvel universe. The character just feels more solid with someone behind it.

In this work, Cletus Kasady has not yet gotten the Carnage symbiote.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTER CLETUS KASADY NOR DO I TAKE CREDIT FOR RAVENCLIFF MENTAL INSTITUTION.

WARNING: THIS CONTENT CONTAINS MATURE THEMES.

PART ONE

"Control your child!" An enraged mother jutted a finger at a horrified Louise Kasady. The world seemed to freeze in its place, the call from the principal was urgent, cops were there, Roscoe had left work early. Their six year old son had stabbed a classmate with a pencil sharpened to a point. The victim, a little girl, the daughter of the woman screaming angry profanities at the two parents of young Cletus. She used every word possible, and the father went on to say that the Kasady's were no more fit to be parents than two pigs. "Enough, enough!" One of the policemen interrupted the father's angered rants. "There's only so much that can be said before it is considered assult." He warned, the father deciphered the threat, and took his seat. The little girl cradling her side which was heavily bandaged underneath a blood stained dress with a hole torn clear through the fabric. "I can't do much more than see to it that the boy gets kicked out of this school," the police continued now that silence had fallen in the room. "Mr and Mrs Kasady, I suggest homeschooling the kid, just until he grows out of the violence. I've heard this isn't the first incident; just the first one that came to an extreme level." He explained politely, which made Roscoe speak. "You expect one of us to quit our jobs to babysit him because of one incident? Hell, when I was a boy, they'd tell the other kid to get up and walk it off, maybe even fight back next time." This, however, was not seen kindly by the mother of the little girl, she stood up in such a fury. "That's your kid's problem! He's too much like you!!" She near screamed. The room erupted into chaos from there. Little Cletus watched from the hall. It was the beginning of a downward spiral.

PART TWO

A little over two years had passed, Louise had quit her job to stay home and teach Cletus; Roscoe had to pick up more hours, sometimes working another temporary job just to make ends meet, though, they rarely did. The three lived month by month, just barely scraping by. It had point a strain on their marriage, since the incident they hadn't been the same. Roscoe blamed Louise for the actions of their son, Louise seemed to think it was because of Roscoe's cold nature Cletus had taken so much after him. And only became worse. Louise hoped with all her being that was going to be the only incident, but there were so many more. Louise thought the best way to combat Cletus' lack of emotion, would be for him to bond with something, so she got him a dog. Weeks later, he tortured, and killed it, with one of Roscoe's power drills. An argument broke out; it was Roscoe's fault because he left his tools down, it was Louise's fault because 'boys will be boys'. Months after that, Roscoe's mother came into town, visiting for the weekend, she was walking down the stairs – poor woman, already had a hard enough time getting around – and Cletus, now nine years of age, had pushed her down the stairs, she broke several bones on the tumble down, and died when she broke her neck. Louise and Roscoe now felt a fear for their son they had never felt before. But the breaking point came when Louise decided a nice soak in the tub would take off some of her stress, Roscoe at work, and Cletus in his bedroom, or at least she thought, she was able to close her eyes and let the bubbles and warm water soothe her. But Cletus crept into the bathroom, opening the door so quietly Louise didn't even realize he was there, until he turned on the hair dryer, holding it over the tub of water. Louise had jumped out of the tub so quickly she slipped and broke an arm. She found herself wishing she had never had Cletus, now she just wished he would go away. Roscoe and Louise decided it was best if he did go away. They put him up for adoption at the age of ten.

PART THREE

Foster home after foster home, and one orphanage after another. Cletus was rejected time after time for one incident, then another, it was always something. At age eleven, Cletus pushed another orphan out in front of oncoming traffic when she refused to talk to him. At age thirteen he killed an orderly at the orphanage, stabbed her in the eye with a fork. Sixteen, he threatened to bomb the city. Many in between, the orphanage had enough, they sent him to the custody of Ravencliff lunatic asylum for the criminally insane, Westchester, New York, his hometown. Though, that was hardly the last of mishaps linked to him, it was the last many people had to worry about. If a patient here went missing, not many people paid enough attention to even notice they were gone. It's where Cletus called home from then until he was twenty-one. A psychiatrist interested in his story, took his case. Isabella Montgomery was twenty-three and fresh out of college, taking Cletus as one of her first official patients. They worked day in and day out, tirelessly, she tried to evaluate, diagnose, treat, she tried to understand him. She had worked to the point where she was sure he was ready to go out into the world. Despite everyone telling her that he was a lost cause, to let him rot in Ravencliff where he belonged; she didn't listen very well. At age twenty-three, Cletus was freed into the world once again.

PART FOUR

Without a place to go, Isabella offered to let Cletus stay with her, she lived alone, and had a spare bedroom. Cletus agreed, he liked Isabella; and Isabella liked Cletus. The more the two spent time together, the more intimate they got, Isabella knew she was wrong for it, that she should have let him out to find someone else. But Cletus liked her. Not anyone else. From that affair, a daughter was born. That was the first time he had ever cried tears of joy; when he held his newborn child for the first time. Bright red hair and beautiful blue eyes. At age twenty-four, Cletus became a father to Clara.

He had never felt like his life held any joy, but from the first time he looked into his daughter's bright blue eyes, he knew he'd kill for her. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. After recovering from the pregnancy, Isabella went back to work, Cletus never left Clara for long, taking care of her almost entirely by himself, even when Isabella was there, he insisted on caring for her. It was that way from when Clara was born, until she was five.

Though his perfect life had come tumbling down on him, at age thirty, he and Isabella began drifting apart, it had started way before then, it was only five years later that Isabella got tired of being the only one making the money and paying bills, while Cletus kept Clara out of school, insisting to teach her himself, he refused to get a job, and he never wanted to go anywhere without Clara. It erupted into an argument, that ultimately ended Isabella with the neck of a shattered wine bottle shoved into the artery on the side of her neck. They never found her body.

PART FIVE

It was late. The car he had picked up only a few hours ago was running low on fuel. Clara in the back, buckled in and looking out the window. It was fairly quiet, only the occasional sputter of the car. Until Cletus spoke up. "Clara, hunny, are you hungry?" He asked, looking in the rearview mirror, receiving a nod in response. He stopped at the first diner, but he never liked the thought of putting Clara in danger. He turned around in the seat, "Ok, Clara bear, you know the drill. Wait in here, play with your dolls. I'll be right back." He said, taking her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. Leaving the car running, he turned on the radio, turning up the volume, then opening the car door. The air was cold, the soil crunched under his feet as he walked to the entrance. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted with the heavy smell of greasy food, not many people, just a small family, a lone man sitting at the bar drinking a cup of coffee, and two workers. Simple, six people. He walked up to the counter, the waitress greeted him with a smile. "What can I get for you?" She asked, so kind. Cletus has just barely had time to read of the menu for what he wanted, though he already knew what Clara wanted. Macaroni and cheese. "I'll just have a chicken sandwich and fries, coffee, a juice, and macaroni."

Looking outside at the car, still running, he could see the outline of Clara's little curls through the darkened windows, setting him at ease. It only took a few minutes for them to prepare the food, but it was too long. The TV playing silently in the corner of the room, a picture of himself flashed across the screen; a warning, they had a nation wide search out for him. And it didn't take long for that lone man at the bar to notice, he slowly started reaching for his phone. And that was the end. A diner full of people, slaughtered.

PART SIX

With little income, and a little mouth to feed, Cletus still assured that no matter what, Clara always had everything she needed. If that meant he had to steal, or kill, he would. He was a serial killer, there wasn't a doubt about it. Random, there was no way for anyone to predict his next move, or even who he was at first. From when Clara was five, to when she was eleven, Cletus was untouchable. Moving from motel to motel, city to city to avoid the authorities. There wasn't a pattern, each new location was random.

Currently, the two were in Ohio, just outside of the city. In some run down motel in the middle of nowhere. Little Clara, now eleven, sat in the floor, playing with her dolls, Cletus was in the bathroom, cleaning up from the last.. incident. Shutting off the water, he walked out to living area, holding a different doll in his hands, clothes neatly assembled, clean, he had just washed all of the blood off of it. "Hey, Clara bear, I got something for you." He said, kneeling down beside his daughter. She turned her bright blue eyes over toward him, a smile on her face. "Oh! She's beautiful, daddy!" The child exclaimed, sitting up and taking the doll from Cletus' hands, and cradling it to her chest. Little did Clara know, her father slaughtered a whole diner full of people, just two towns over and nearly a day before. Pulling the bag over to him, Cletus grabbed a pink hairbrush from it, then moved over behind Clara, who was still admiring her doll with such loving eyes, as if it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Taking the falling braid out, Cletus ran the brush through her little red curls, then grabbing the bag once again. Taking a dress out, then handing it to her, "here, go get changed." He said, holding it out for her. Clara took it, set the doll down gently beside her others, then stood and went to change.

PART SEVEN

Cletus knew his his time was drawing to an end; the authorities were closing in on him, it was only a matter of time. Watching his little girl, holding that doll like it was the most precious thing to her, a sinking feeling set in his stomach. Soon, he may not be around to protect her like he had all her life. Soon she may be alone. The bathroom door opened, and out walked little Clara in a cute little flower dress. "You look beautiful, Clara Bear." He said, smiling. "I love it, daddy, thank you!" She exclaimed, giving a little twirl. "Look at you, you look like a little princess." She was so beautiful, Cletus still couldn't believe she was something he created. She was too good to be his. Woken from his thoughts by a banging on the door, he instantly stood up. "Kasady! Ohio State Law Enforcement. This is your only chance: surrender yourself or we will enter by force." A muffled voice of a man rose from the other side. Cletus quickly scooped all of Clara's dolls, and stuffed them into her bag, then gave it to her. Peeking out the window, he saw the whole parking lot, filled with police cars. "What's wrong, daddy? Time to leave again?" She asked, "Shhh," Cletus hushed gently, scooping her up in his arms, he carried her back into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain back, throwing a towel down in the bottom, then setting her down on it. "Daddy's gotta go take care of something. Ok?" He took her face in his hands. "Please stay here, please, and be quiet. Just close your eyes.. I'll keep you safe." He promised. Kissing her forehead one more time. Standing upright again, he started closing the curtain. "I love you, Clara bear."

That was the last time Clara would see Cletus, for seven years.

PART EIGHT

It was minutes of muffled noise. Gunfire, yelling. Little Clara, hiding out in the tub, was oblivious. Until cops came in, and found her. "Hey, there's a kid in here!" One called back to his fellow officers. Clara was holding her bag close, almost hiding behind it. The cop, equipt with a full face mask and a helmet, was but a black figure walking toward her, he wasn't her father. "Where's my daddy?" Clara asked, her voice little, clearly frightened. The cop got the message, she was terrified. Setting the gun down, and removing his mask, he walked over to her, kneeling beside the tub. "He's going away for a while, c'mon," he said outstretching his arms. Hesitating for a moment, but then reached out as well, he picked her up, and she held onto her bag. The cop carried her out.

Clara was placed into an orphanage, back home in Westchester, New York. With no other living relatives, she didn't have a choice. The kids were mean there, and often times, she was picked on. But she found one friend through it all. Her name was Caroline, she was always really quiet, and sometimes she forgot things, but the two of them clicked. They were best friends from then on out. They'd stick up for each other. Caroline, who was merely a few inches taller than Clara, had stood up to the bully of the house, when he shoved Clara into the dirt and took the doll her dad had given her. He threw into the road, Clara nearly ran after it, but Caroline stopped her. The doll was crushed into pieces. Clara had never cried so hard in her life. Another occasion, a few girls were picking on Caroline, calling her crazy, and making fun of her, Clara had threatened to flush their makeup, even dropped a pallet of bright pink blush the toilet. It got her a bloody nose - girls could be so mean - but they left Caroline alone.

Over the course of seven years, there were several couples that came in, interested in adopting Clara, the young girl with the red curls, they'd speak with her, and she was pleasant, just what they were looking for. It seemed. Until they started the paper work, finding out who was in her family.. after learning that, none of them were interested anymore.

PART NINE

Now eighteen, Clara was out of the orphanage. She managed to track down where Cletus was, San Quentin prison, San Francisco. From New York to San Francisco, her whole life took a turn from there. She made a life for herself. But as soon as she could. She made a request to see her father.

Walking through the prison, she guessed it was a lobby, she was met with an older lady. "Can I help you?" She asked as if she was tired from a long day at work, not even looking up from her magazine. "Um.. I'm here to see my father, Cletus Kasady." She replied. Which made the woman slowly look up from her magazine. "Alright, suit yourself." She said, pressing the buzzer which allowed Clara to walk in. The guard leading her back passed other inmates. "Hey hunny, come over here!" One called, "where ya goin, baby, I got what you need right here!" The other reached out through the fence, making Clara move out of the way, nearly right into the arms of a woman on the other side. "Just ignore 'em, that's what I do." The guard said, then opening the heavy max security door, letting her walk in. "Hey, crazy, gotta visitor." He said, tapping the baton against the metal bar, letting her in. Cletus lifted his head, and with that, stood from his bed so quickly, he moved to the edge of the cell. "Clara bear!" He exclaimed, "oh you've grown into such a beautiful young woman." It brought a smile to her lips, seeing her dad - not necessarily in this condition - but after seven years, she was going to take whatever she could get. "Hey Dad," she replied, she wanted to give him a hug so badly, but there was a rule: three feet away from the cell at all times. He was a killer, a very skilled one at that, but little did they know, he would never hurt her. "How have they been treating you here?" She asked, she had heard her fair share of hatred toward her father, she only learned what he was once she made it to the orphanage, Cletus had done such a careful job to make sure that she didn't see that side of him. And she never did. Not until he was no longer there to protect her from it. There was something different about her, she knew things about him. He could see it in her eyes. All those things he had done. Her mother the dolls.. she knew what he was now. "You know now, don't you?" He questioned. Clara thought of everything she had read, all of the murders linked to her father. Over 75 counts in 6 years. Her eyes met her father's. "Yes. And I'm not afraid."