Beauty And Her Beast

1 - Ray 'Charlie Brown' King

If Ray had a theme song this would be it!

Chapter 1- Ray 'Charlie Brown' King

Ray-----------

At nineteen years old Ray King could still be considered a kid, though he hardly carried himself as one. At six feet two inches with a swagger to his step and an always present cloud of intimidation around him when he entered a room, Ray wasn't one to be taken lightly. He was handsome, charismatic, and intelligent but not in the way you would think. Ray was terrible in school and had dropped out his junior year -- it was street smarts that made him special. That kept him alive.

As a child Ray learned to mature quickly. He didn't get the luxury of birthday parties or play dates with other children and by the age of five he knew better than to expect a hug or kiss from his mother or father. While other kids played with dolls and action figures, Ray learned how to load a gun. While other kids debated on what princess or prince they wanted to be, Ray learned how to read the atmosphere of a room and notice when things were getting tricky. While other kids went out for their favorite school sports teams, Ray learned how to beat a man unconscious without wearing out his own muscles as well.

His lifestyle may not have been ideal but it wasn't like his parents were able to offer him anything better. His father was an immigrant from Scotland and years of hard labor, drinking, smoking and 'gettin' fücked by the püssy higher ups' had turned him into a cold man with a lack of patience for anything that didn't pay bills or put beer in the fridge. He'd tried to live a normal life but eventually the effort wasn't worth the outcome and he followed in his father's foot steps -- deciding to turn to gang work for a quick buck and a free gram if he was lucky. He'd given up on working a stable job and eventually he gave up on his family as well. After Ray turned thirteen there wasn't much more good he could say about his father.

His mother on the other hand was a different story. Where his father lacked the patience for even a conversation, was cold and abusive, and spent most of his adult life drunk and complaining; Ray's mother was controlling, spoiled, selfish, and didn't see her children as anything more than free labor. She managed Ray and his younger sister's lives to the 'T' and put them to work at things like luring in men for her to entertain, transferring their father's drug packages, and even stealing when they didn't have enough money to buy what they needed. She was, in short, an ungrateful crack whore who resented and blamed her kids for ruining her young life but also looked to them for companionship when her husband spared none. She was terrible and should have never been granted the ability to bare children, but if Ray had to choose who he loved the most it would always be his mother. She at least tended his wounds when he returned home from a fight.

Needless to say there was never a point during his childhood where he was actually a child. His mother was a whore, his sister a thieving whore, and his father was in a gang until he was shot dead in an alley one night after trying to smuggle drugs from a shipment he was supposed to deliver. There wasn't much Ray really had to hope for as far as a better life went but, ironically, he never did. He hated his life and he hated his parents for making it such a shitty experience, but he didn't hate who he was or what he did. There wasn't a single good thing in his life and he had no reason to go in search for one either.

"Ray! Hey yo Ray!"

With a loud groan, Ray knotted his fingers into the dingy fabric of his pillow case and rolled over as if he could somehow hide from the noise. He could hear the sound of thumping footsteps and knew he'd be found hiding under his sheets in his room at the end of the hall soon enough. He wanted to sleep in but it was Friday and he never really got to sleep in on Fridays.