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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Wrahn" data-source="post: 2655304" data-attributes="member: 9191">Here is a thumbnail (forgive me if I am incoherent, I need to sleep):Jake, they called him Jake, he really had no clue why, but he didn’t mind, so it stuck.  His name before he went into the “system” was Hernando Ramerez, but now he was Jake.Seventeen years old, it sometimes seemed that he had been Jake forever, that Jake the poet, the artist was all he was.  It didn’t take long for him to remember that Hernando is still there, all he had to do is sleep.  Sleep and dream.His dreams always started they way it actually started, his mother rushing into their small apartment, grabbing him back the hand and shoving him under the counter.  Making him promise his man’s promise that he would not make a sound.He hadn’t until the police had found him there.  Detective Merren still came around every once in a while, which was very kind of him, but Jake was pretty sure he knew that Jake was alone and nothing he could do or say could reach him.  Still it was nice that he tried.He wrote poetry, he sketched and painted.  He seemed to have the knack for it.  He had won contests, his poetry had been published, his art had even sold.  People talked though, they thought he couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel the weight of their eyes upon him.He was “that” boy, the one who had witnessed his mother’s brutal rape and murder.  It all seemed to make sense that he was the tortured artist, it gave his work an edge even if his subject matter didn’t always match their picture of they envisioned coming from a artist struggling with his inner demons.  Fantastic creatures in modern settings did not seem to say “art” to most of the patrons.Then the new councilor came.  She was young and enthusiastic and took a particular interest in him.  He saw his file when she stepped out, things like “Socialized poorly” and “Loner” seemed to stand out and she plagued him with questions about his happiness and his friends.Foolishly, he told her the truth, he had no friends, no enemies either, the only thing he had was his art.  So she poked and prodded him, tested his IQ, made him look at ink blots, kept him doing stupid things, until she really got into her job.A straight “A” student who didn’t cause trouble was ultimately something that she could not afford to delve too deeply in, when others at the group home were trying to kill each other or where hooked on drugs.  That was until the “Queen of Air and Darkness.”It had started as something to sell, something dark that would appeal to those looking for the tortured soul piece.  He was trying to raise capital to buy a car for college, but it took on a life of it’s own.  When it was done, it was very, very good.  It was a picture of a beautiful woman, but somehow it was disturbing, a level of dark menace seemed to come off of it.  It sold extremely well and also got the attention of the young, and perhaps not so enthusiastic councilor.She was too swamped to properly diagnose him, so she sent him to Dr. Uriah Gardner and his group in hopes that it would help.</blockquote>

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