Jason Hrick's Biography

I can't explain why, but If i'm going to live suicidally for the rest of my days, then I might as well right a story, at least to allow poeple to know the kind of pain I endured, what I went through, and am going through, and hopefully not make the same mistakes.

I was born on September 17th, 1972 at 3:44 in the morning at the Melsborough hospital. My mother always told me I'd always be a cut above the rest, and that I should always chase my dreams. chasing dreams may seem like a noble goal, but through the first 10 years of my life those thoughts never passed my mind, it was always the milkshakes and the playground equipment my mind was focused on. I remember a cool afternoon in November, I had just turned 11. I ran into the school yard and ran head first into a small wolf boy called Lee Fenning. I remember us both falling onto the concrete and staring at each other. At the time, I though I would've been pounded for being so unaware, but much to my surprise he just laughed, astonished and unsure of the whole situation, I joined in on the laughter.

2 years later me and Lee were tight as a knot, and easily became close friends.
At this time, we were all expected to be 'cool' or 'fly' as some people called it. me and Lee never really made the bill... When we went outside for recess; (at the time it was my favorite part of the day.) Lee and I had just gotten permission to borrow some equipment from the sports locker, and we hurriedly carried some soccer equipment to the far end of the yard. I can still remember us: Lee with his green pinny overlaying his long grey fur, and me dressed in a tattered shirt with a net full of soccer balls slung over my shoulder. It was a long walk, but it was worth it every time. The main reason being that it was the emptyest part of the schoolyard, we could do whatever we wanted; swear, spit, talk about which girls we liked... It was enough to make us feel independent and proud to be a kid.

Those soccer games with Lee were some of the best days of my life. What made my childhood even better was the fact that I'd always come home to a warm blueberry pie. My mother always made sure to make them: "with extra love" she'd say. Now that I think back, I never gave my mom enough credit for her baking... those pies were good after all. When it would become later in the day I would go out back to visit my father. He was a mechanic; a damn good one too. My first impression of my father when he was working was always some legs attached to a furry hip and tail as the rest of him was buried beneath the car on a trolly. "How you been Jellybean?" he would ask everytime I entered the garage. And "good," was always my answer, whether or not I actually felt that way is another subject entirely. (Which I'll get to soon.)

Now lets jump 4 years ahead. me and Lee still hung out, but less so as he had moved to the school across the street, which meant I was alone for most of the day. This is where it all started. After Lee moved I had no-one to hang around with, I wasn't popular, athletic or even the most good looking given the fact that my mother had gotten me braces 3 months before. "They'll never notice" she said. yeah right... 'Brace-face' and 'Spittle-Muzzle' just to name a couple incidents where they were 'Unnoticiable.'

During the rest of the school year, I attempted to make friends, but everone seemed to have more important things to do that listen to a desperate coyote whine about how lonely he was. I went home every night either angry or sad, there was no 'happy' for a kid whose got nobody to hang with. Even Lee was starting to hang out with other people, not to mention he had a 'girlfriend' so he couldn't spare a day to come over. It was during these couple years I was truly thankful to have parents. Dad always had something we could do together, and mom always seemed happy for what I had to say.

Around 2 months passed. my time was spent working in the garage with dad, homework, and listening to Lee's answering machine he and his girlfriend had set up together... fuckin' tramp... Over the next few days it was made official, Lee had messaged me online explaing that we couldn't be friends anymore, and how it was: "Good while it lasted." It was like getting a train to the face. all I wanted to do was lay on my bed and cry. Have you ever felt that miserable? knowng that every day it was only going to get worse? Because thats exaclty what it did.

Let's Jump to highschool. I was 17 and that could only mean one thing: grade 11. I thought highschool would be much more mature and sophisticated, or even harder than public, but I was sadly mistaken. The students were possibley even more immature than at the public school, and half the teachers couldn't give a fuck if you skipped out, or did drugs. They were just pathetic fuckwits waiting for a paycheck.

In an attempt to fit in with a crowd, I turned to smoking. I knew my mom would have a cow, and my dad would give me the whole 'Ruining your life lecture' but I didn't give a fuck. I had been alone for 3 years, and any acknowledgement at all was welcome in my mind, at least now I could relate to some of the kids at school... albiet bumming for a smoke most often. In highschool I tried my best to fit in. I played tough, got into fights, even got arrested once or twice. My parents were killing me for it, but I just tuned them out.

After I graduated it seemed I had suceeded at putting a permantent impression on people. Every time I walked past they'd give me a look, the same look a child does to a stranger when he's on the wrong side of town... And I liked it. I took on a role of being a dangerous, dont-mess-with-me badass, and when I walked the street: Watch out! (or at least that what I told myself.) During one of my confidence swings I had the overwhelming need to drive fast and plow hard. I had recently gotten my G2 and procceded outside of my house and stole my father's car. I made a quick escape and took a drive though Melsborough's darkest part of town.

At some point during this drive I had downed a bottle of whisky, and smoked about half a pack in the timeframe of 30 minutes. All I rembember is pulling my car up to a curb and saying: "I want it all baby!" Later I woke up in the back of my car, still parked on a curb next to a woman who I only know as Alley. At that moment, I was unsure of what to think, clearly she was a prostitute. The three $100 bills in her panties was enough to tell me that.

After we had a lenghty conversation about the exact details of the previous night, I headed home. To my horror there was around 20 police cars parked around front. I made an attempt to rush inside but I was stopped by an officer Richards was his name. He explained to me what would be the deciding moment for the rest of my life -- My parents were dead.

I couldn't deny it. As I saw them roll out the stretchers with the body bags It became clear to me that my whole life was a joke. all for the amusement of god or some shit... The officer explained that someone had broken in and shot my parents, and that my father was killed first. Shot in the head, next he told me that they found my mother naked in the bathroom with her throat slit -- this couldn't have been happening...

I know everyone thinks it. The: "It won't happen to me scenario." well guess what -- I was one of those people, and look where it got me. So there I was, helpless, scared, and just about ready to die... but then a car rolls up. At that point in time I couldn't be bothered to see who it was, the only reason I actually paid attention is bacause I heard: "I'm Pregnant." Even still I didn't care, All I wanted was for time to reverse... even just long enough so I could have said. "I love you." one last time.

Let's jump 8 months. Now I was living in a dingy old basement serving as an appartment. I didn't have a job and I was about to be a father. In the next 3 weeks I would have to step up my game. I knew what lied ahead, Alley already told me, she said. "I ain't dealing with that fuckin' thing, your the one who fucked me so it's your problem, sides' I can't pay for it either." and that, as sad as it was... Was true, even with the social security and baby bonus checks, she still wouldn't be able to keep up with the economy. besides the court had already ruled out that she wasn't befitting enough to take care of a child.

The one thing I can say is that that baby girl, well... Gracey (Which I named after my mother.) was about the only thing that kept me going, she was kind energetic and helped me turn my life around. It was as if the gods had forgiven me, and gib\ven me another chance. With my attitude improved, I was able to hang a few jobs, and scrape by enough coin to keep her fed, healthy and best of all happy.

My life really started to look up on her 7th birthday. I had saved up some money and got her one of those fur-real friends she wanted so badly, I attempted to bake a cake, but opted for muffins instead. I remember walking outside to check the mailbox later that day while gracey hung out inside. I was astonished to see I had gotten mail -- on a Tuesday. I opened the post and inside was a note, along with my resume. the note read "Looks good Mr. Hrick, I think you'll be Ideal for working the register at the starlight pub, start Thursday 10:00am ~Mr. Varuth"

I remember, bursting the door open an howling in exitement, I remember picking up Gracey and swinging her around the room hugging her like crazy. "Finally a real job. With this I could afford a day care service and make enough money for us to move out of that dingy basement." I thought. On Thursday I started work with a spring in my step, knowing each hour worked was another meal set on the table. For a year I worked feverishly to get a good pay, and hopfully to move someplace nicer. During one peticular evening I was just packing up, when my boss came up to me. He was a well fitted panther with a black tuxedo. He told me: "Jason, do you want to make millions?" I was taken back a little bit, and rased a brow in shock.I remember stamering a lot and then asking him how that would be possible. Then he told me that he worked for a 'special' orginization.

I knew of course what he was referring to, and I immediatley regretted all at once accepting this job, because at that moment, I was told that if I said anything, everything I cared about would die. 'Everything' funny, there was only 1 thing I cared about: Gracey. After this I remember saying the stupidest this in my entire life: "How do I make millions, sir?" Then he told me some things that I can never write, say or hint at for fear of my daughters life. He then made me sign a waver, then explained that I'd have "everything everyone else wanted." and dissapeared.

The next day it all went as per normal, except when I entered the job sight, I was directed to another part of the establishment. behind a red curtain was a large casine, filled with exotic women and the smell fo smoke. the dinging from the slots was enough to give me a headache, but I was more interested inseeing where my 'promotion' had placed me. I was taken to a table meant for playing blackjack, and was told I'd deal there from now on. I tried to tell them I didn't know shit-all about dealing... but all they said was that I had good hands for the job. so I just shrugged it off and made an attempt to play.

I was astounded and a little suspicious that the dealer, (me) won every single time, more so were the participants. throwing enraged cursed and saying things I'd rather not go into the detail of. Months of this work went by, and I was finally getting close to being able to move. During one of my shifts I noticed that nobody was interested on playing blackjack... not that I blamed them. I waved another one of the staff over and told him to keep my spot warm, I was feeling particularly confident that night. At that moment, I made another bad choice. I remember walking over to one of the slot machines and inserting a quarter... I pulled the lever, and waited... and waited... until -- I heard a loud wooping sound and saw blue and red lights, it had gotten all 7's I jumped up and started screaming, slowly the pile of silver increased. it was pouring out by the hundereds. I didn't know wha to do... so I just started scooping it up and jamming as much ass I could into my pockets.

After the craziness died down, I felt a large paw on my shoulder. I remember looking back and seing my boss, with a slight smirk on his face. he looked at me with his yellow eys and said: "You made millions Jay... Do you feel lucky?" I was still overwhelmed by joy. "Yes!" I remember saying ti like the ignorant bastard I was, and continued to pile the coins. I also remeber feeling nausiated shortly after when I hear "Won't last long..." from my employer as he walked away.

After my ight, I walked home, still unsure of what to make of the previous happenings. The staff had told me that collecting the coins was in vain, I could just leave them there and the casino would send me a check in the mail. I got home to see that the ront door was ajar. I walked in, not especially worried sometimes the babysitter left it open to let fresh air in. "Hey kiddo, dad's back." I yelled -- no answer. I walked into the living room, and froze. I was petrified.

What lay before me was the corpse of the babysitter I had hired, she had a clean hole in the centre of her forehead, and she still was clenched onto the phone -- but its line was cut. I quickly looked around, and saw a note on the table. I rembeber being careful to open it to make sure I could read its contents. It read: "Dear Mr. Hrick. I just wanted to inform you that we will be sending your money in the mail soon, what you may not know is that in trade for the money we have taken your child, and in signing that waver have given us full rights to do whatever wo wish with anything you onw, and your little girl. ~ Mr. Varuth"

At this point in my life I knew I had killed the only glimpse of hope I had left. I ran out into the street, yelling and screaming, eventually making enough noise to have someone call he cops. when they arrived they told me what I already knew, then they told me that they were going to find my daughter no mater what. They put up signs and posters, made phonecalls and patrolled the streets. But they can only care for so long right?

After 2 years they told me that she was most likely dead, and that there was nothing we could do. Then I remember going to prison for assualting an officer, but at this point I really did just want to die. After I was released I bought a gun license, bought myself a pistol, and prepared to find my daughter. and if I find that she really was dead, I guess I'll just do the same...