Age: 19
Race: Human/Doll
Alan is a pathetic creature. Due to a terrible past (see following), he is extremely scared of most anything. While it's of a general opinion that Alan was not born a bad-looking person, he is absolutely covered in scars. The only places innocent of scar are the back of his neck, his face and private parts (if uh, anyone needed to know).
Alan is the product of a rape. It was a rather random thing; the man took his mother out on a couple dates only with that very intent. In this, he was quite insane, although it was strangely temporary; after completing the act that would impregnate the woman with Alan, he went down to her kitchen for a paring knife, which he used to slice up his veins (that is, the cuts were vertical - more likely to result in death, which they did). The woman was twenty years old when this occured, twenty-one by the time Alan was born. She did not make it through childbirth. In fact, she'd made it to the hospital so late that they had to take her; no name was taken, either for the child or the mother. Nurses about named him, and he was sent off to an orphanage.
The relatively young couple that took Alan in were terrible as it went for parenting. In this particular perversion of reality, laws were written but they were not carried out, and human beings acted on deep feelings more bluntly than they would normally. The world, then, absolutely hated Alan - the nurses that had taken care of him so briefly knew this, but they were old and, in the end, could offer no help. There was no explination as to 'why', but nothing was ever kind to him. His 'parents' made sure to have polished wooden floors, knowing that their home would double as Alan's torture chamber. Never was he told that he'd any worth in the world; never was he embraced without an immediate punishment given to him. He could be beaten for anything from not doing a chore to not being in the room when his father wanted something he couldn't be bothered to get up and retrieve himself. Not only that, but he was made to do most everything around the house; cooking, cleaning, what have you.
Rather than being given a bed to sleep on, Alan would sleep on a box-spring, present only to mock the existance of a real bed. No sheets, no blankets, no pillow, no mattress. Given only this, it was hard to fall asleep, understandably, both from the physical discomfort and the state of constant fear he lived in - what would he do wrong tommorow that would give him another scar? Would he be torn out of bed again, as so many nights before? Due to this, he would often stand up at night and look out the solitary window in his room, perhaps the only pleasure he had. The moon and stars were beautiful to him, and the sound of cars passing on the nearest road - although he could not see them - serene. One night, however, he was caught doing just this, clinging to the window pane. His father had walked in, and was furious that he was not in 'bed' as he should be. Seeing the reason for Alan's being awake, nothing was said at first; he merely exited the room to come back with nails, a hammer and boards. The nails were, of course, used to board up the window after he'd torn Alan's fragile body from it. Seeing as Alan was - and still is - absolutely terrified of his father, when he was ordered to sit beneath what remained of his only cenosure of happiness, he could only do as he was told. At this point, Alan's father would tell him to spread his hands about the floor, by his sides. When this was done, five nails would be driven into each hand; these are the most prominant scars on his hands, amidst longer, thinner types.
That would only be one set of many scars that parents and peers alike would deal to him. It seemed to be only for Alan's torment that he was sent to school. Although an extremely bright individual, he is also impressionable; innaccurate information was taught to him simply so he would seem stupid. Among the incorrect formulas, theories, historical events and what not taught to him, he was told never to speak unless told to, and if it was demanded that he speak, he was to answer immediately. Through this and comments that would be made when he did utter a few words, Alan had been made to believe that his voice was terrible and full of sin.
Living this sort of life, Alan had few thoughts that it should be any other way, but by the time he was seventeen, he could take no more. Many nights, he would walk the streets, the isolated paths, to be anywhere but home, where he would surely be beaten and made victim to all sorts of horrid accusations. He always did return, though. Upon doing just this late one Autumn night - or early morning - he would find both of his parents bibulous and outraged at his absence. His father, specifically, could take no more; utilizing a shard of glass from a broken beer bottle, he would cut and dig into Alan's throat until there was no life left in him.
What seemed like an eternity later, Alan found himself stirring upon the pedestal of a weathered angel, his pinions and sickle shadows of their former selves. In his head, images of marble hallways and feathered beds. Around this violent world - although none of it turned in his direction - he would wander, picking from the too-frequent corpses their money. From this and lurking about busy places, he would remain alive, curiously losing little weight even as his hunger would rage and threaten inside him. Using scavenged money, he purchased one outfit, all black simply because it seemed easiest to choose. This consists of rather plain, somewhat dressy shoes, slacks, a dress shirt with golden-lustered buttons and its collar turned up, and black cloth gloves - all of this serves to hide his scarred skin.
Although thrust from the dying womb of a perfectly human mother, Alan would more accurately be described as a doll of Heavenly creation. Regardless of scarring, his skin resembles porcelain, though soft to the touch; never would it be tanned or burnt by the sun. Seeing as he was indeed of ethereal creation, the thoughts that go through his head were able to be pre-determined. As such, he cannot take his own life (which is why he's even alive now). Sickness is of no use to a doll, and Alan has never experienced it for that reason - the only way he could fall ill is from some sort of malediction. The reason human beings are weak is because their muscles cannot withstand tremendous strain and the chemical of adrenaline isn't too plentiful. In this particular creature, however, it is; little does he know that, if he so desired, this organic chemical could flow through his veins as readily as blood. This given, his muscles, too, though not very large, cannot tear with strain. There are many things of Alan that, if properly nurtured, would be perfect. However, with all of his strength and grace, Alan is utterly harmless; he is afraid of everything around him and, being abused as he was, the mere thought of inflicting injury on another creature terrifies him. Due to the fact that Alan thinks that small muscles indicate a lack of strength, Alan's apparent strength is very low - this does not mean the strength doesn't exist, though, but that his mind is so convinced of his own weakness that he uses only a fraction of it.