BIO: Latham Kjellberg
Born In Sweden, Stockholm 06-02-1999,
Age: 20 y/o.
Reason for given name: Unknown
Reason for given Surname: Taken from his father's side.
Relatives: Maria Söderström, Mother.
Arvid Kjellberg, Father.
Astrid Kjellberg, Sibling.
Current care: Foster-home, Bärgmans family.
Foster-family's surname: Bärgman
Foster-family members: ##### Bärgman
State of whereabouts: Chernarus, South Zagoria.
State of Physical Condition: Unknown
State of Mental Condition: Sociopathic Signs.
State animation: Unknown
State of advance: Undefined
This was my life, this is my present.
"There is a burden in my life. Something that would seem ordinary on the outside. Yet, on the inside there is always conflicts and war between right and wrong. Where your sanity can only hold on for so long. To deal with the constant frustration of confusion and disorientation. Where your calls for help only seem to catch the attention of few. And those few, are as broken as you.
My mother gave birth to me on the second of July, 1999. The home I met was to become my hell. My father was an abuser, always cheering when he was done with a bottle of rum or two. In the meantime my mother keep piling on debts in my fathers name to please her addiction to varying drugs. Me and my mother more or less served ass walking boxing bags. Absorbing the blows of the head mans twisted knuckles a few times per week.
Living such a life will most definitely changes you. The human body and mind are meant to adapt to the environment it is exposed to. A basic strategy of survival. To say the least, I never grew up to be your typical jolly kid. Instead I grew up in secured care for the slaughter of civilians. It is up to each and everyone to decide if the act was right or wrong. However, to me, it was all an act of survival. The primal instinct of fear and the will to fight. You can love and be loved by a beast with every bit of all you have. But if you provoke the beast long enough it will one day decide to act on its own. It is in their nature."
It wasn't until 13 years of destructive abuse and torment had gone by my mind finally decided to snap. The father I so dearly hated was having his fun of slapping me around. Although this time he did not only use his knuckles. He used the bottle. Whilst he laughed, mother leaned back and watched. Her eyes told me I deserved every bit of all I took. So I stood up, and walked away when told to leave the kitchen. But instead of going to my room, I when for their bedroom. In a box under the damned pops bed lie a smuggled handgun. Locked and loaded. When it all was over I couldn't help but to chuckle, as I for the very first time in my life, I was more than happy to be alive.
Since the incident of 2012 I had moved around quite a bit. Jumping from one foster family to another, I finally settled into a family I bereaved I could trust. They consisted of 3 individuals. The Father, Mother and their kid. Whose names are unimportant. They aided in making sure I followed through In school and did my studies. Can not for the life of me say it was an enjoyable process but I did what I had to do.
The family decided to go on a vacation so they could take a break from the busy life for a couple of days, taking me with them. So they decided we head over to visit their cousins who lived in Chernarus, South Zagoria. The country was beautiful, it was open and rural for the most of its entirety. One of my foster-members cousin, Tony, took me out hunting. At first, the elders was ill fond of the idea, reasoning about my previous history. Although Tony managed to persuade them, told them that I had a capable enough body to help bring back the prey and that he'd keep a good eye on me. Where as for the weeks to come, hunting was all I ever did. I grew fond of the wild quicker than the bullet left the barrel for the first time. A way of living where I could be by my self. Surrounded by nothing else but the ambient noises of the wind swirling through the trees.
Days gone, and it was soon time to leave. Not because of a limit in our vacation, but because of the increasing tension in Chernarus. There have been patrols of the army deploying ever so often by air and land. The news stating that there is some kind of epidemic risk of a highly-contagious virus spreading throughout out the land. This caused my foster-family to grow more and more agitated for every second they stood on the chernarussian soil. But I refused to leave. I had finally found piece and was determined to stay weather there was a true danger or not. My foster dad forcefully took a hold of me, janking me away. Panic overcome me as I made my self clear to them for the last time what I wanted. Once I took a swing to my caretakers jaw with a rock, causing a crack sound to appear. Shocked he let go of me, and I ran. Through the house I grabbed Tonys rifle and hunting bag, then into the woods. Never to return.
This must all have been about a year ago, maybe less. I have lost track of date since a while back. I survive with my rifle, and I prey upon the now walking corpses of those who died and sent to limbo. There is no better sense of piece when I am all alone, and get to put creatures down to mother earth. Weather they never inhale, or even if they exhale.