Name: James Chandler

Age: 18

Bio: James had little luck in life from the outset. His mother absent since just after his birth and his father a drunken auto-mechanic, he was both a reminder of said father's mistakes and nothing of what he had ever wanted in a son. Whereas his father was a powerhouse of a man with a thick torso and heavy paunch, James was scrawny and mild mannered from earliest days. There were no relative to take shelter with, no other family at hand to question the belt-wide bruises across his body and back. Even teachers at school tended to look the other way, for while James was certainly one of their brightest pupils he was also one of the oddest. It wasn't just a matter of his favorite foods, which consisted of ketchup and pickle relish sandwiches and milk flavored with curry powder. There was just something... off... about him. Perhaps it was the way he would stare at people others with a curious if innocent intensity, like people were puzzles to be figured out. In elementary school, his habit of answering correctly almost any questions put before him combined with consistently challenging back with his own questions earned him no amount of teasing from his peers. Skinny little know it all Jimmy. "Jimmy." How he hated that name! Jimmy was the name of schlocky comedians and bad actors. As far as he was concerned, he was James. Like James Monroe or James May or Professor James Moriarty or any of the hundreds of historical and literary figures he had come to revere.

By the time middle school had rolled around, the teasing had turned into bullying. He retreated further and further into his own world to escape the abuse from both his father and from his schoolmates. And what a world it was! James had developed a passion for science fiction and fantasy, compounded with a love of history. He found escape in writing and reading and dreaming. And then he discovered another way to escape the pain: cutting. After a slip caused him a paper cut, he came to realize the control it gave him. He'd heard of cutting before, of course. It was something that goth and emo kids did to both punish themselves and/or to cry for attention. That wasn't it for him. No, for James the small sliced he etched along his upper bicep were all about control. Others could hurt him and there was little he felt he could do about it; this was his, his own secret pain to covet because he could do it whenever he wished. He didn't want to be discovered, keeping the neat little cuts in areas least likely to be found. He even took great pains to make sure the nicks and slashes were kept clean and bandaged.

But it was also in middle school that he noticed girls. James knew he stood no chance of dating any of the popular girls and didn't even try; while their physical beauty attracted his attention, there was something about their personalities he simply could not stand. It might have had something to do with how their boyfriends tended to beat him up to amuse them. He was outside of the social pack, an exile in their midst. Lower class. Unclean. Sub-human to these bullies. James deeply desired revenge on all of them for making his life a hell. As powerless as he was, it was only a futile dream realized in short stories and near-novels that would never see the light of day. He couldn't say when it was that he noticed Sara. In many ways he was surprised he hadn't noticed a fellow outcast before. It was sometime before he worked up the courage to try and talk with the meek girl, waiting for her by her locker one day after school. As she approached, James found his normally overflowing mind completely empty. Somehow, they managed to strike up a conversation and soon were best friends. It wouldn't be correct to say that he didn't have his own ulterior motives in the relationship, and Sara featured in many of his fantasies from there on out. But they were both so meek and mild, he was too scared to actually ask her out.

The following years of middle school and eventual high school brought a camaraderie between them, a closeness that helped ease the loneliness in much of his life and he hoped did the same for hers. He never told her about the cutting, although he was sure she knew. James hated to be parted from her, only when his father forced him to get a job he had little choice but to comply. Forging student work papers, he managed a job at the local library; the result was another beating from his father for doing 'woman's work.' After a school fight that broke his [url=http://ijoey.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/broken_eyeglasses.jpg]wire-rim glasses[/url], James begged the school shop teacher to teach him welding and solders so he could fix the frames; surely learning such a 'manly' skill would earn his father's approval? No, it resulted in yet another round of fists and the hated belt. Not only had James let an expensive (if highly outdated) pair of glasses get broken, he had let on how poor he and his father really were. He did everything he could to keep his wounds hidden from Sara, not wanting her to be burdened with his woes as she already had more than her own.

Their senior year had become something of a whirlwind of activity and anticipation for them both. Only a few short months and they would both be free of the school, leaving their old lives and torments behind them! He had plans, college acceptance letters and scholarships and loans and grants, all done on the sly! And she was not going to be left behind, not if he could do anything about it! He had saved all the money he had earned. James purchased his own car, an ancient but reliable mailman jeep that he fixed up himself and painted black (and for once in his life, meeting his father's grudging approval). After graduation, he was going to drive to her house like some knight to rescue her from her mother and they'd drive off together to start fresh. James had planned on asking her right after the prom, the biggest night of their senior year. He even spent the rest of his money on a new pair of black framed glasses for the occasion! That she agreed to go with him helped to solidify his plans. Everything was going to be different after the prom. During the prom, too, it turned out, as they shared their far more than just their first kiss together. When she confessed her powers, James was hardly surprised. She fit the type perfectly as described in almost every book he had ever read on the subject: teenage girl, socially outcast, retiring in nature... It was funny how both fictional accounts of such things and documented historical records agreed on such matters. After years of being her friend, he finally declared his love for her. The rest? He would save for later, after the dance. Because it seemed like after that night, anything would be possible for them.

When their names were announced as King and Queen of the prom, James was both startled and suspicious. They were the least popular kids in school, how the hell did they get elected?? Only Sara seemed so happy, he couldn't protest. Once on stage, there followed... something. He couldn't remember what. Something went wrong, he thinks, and remains so. If only he could put his finger on it. 

Come to think of it, if only he could put his finger on anything...

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