Priest (The Beginning)

Priest was his name as inappropriate as that was since it couldn't possibly be his profession keeping in mind that he was, in fact, a cat, but his mannerisms were in accord with the black suit and white collar that he had donned every day since his coming into the world. His sleek black coat didn't have a single flaw; nor did his love for his master excepting one minor glitch. He was a cat, and in so being, his life span was regrettably short while his master endured a miserably long existence. At the cursed age of thirteen, Troy came across a kitten in a most peculiar way although for some bizarre reason, it didn't seem all that odd to Troy to see a small kitten, as black as turf bar the white splotch on its throat, curled under the warm insulation of its adopted mother hen. He found it somewhat admirable that a young cat should surrender its bestial instincts to the coziness of a hen's maternal protection. When the hen moved, so too did the kitten, and hence it was apparent to Troy that the kitten had developed a loving attachment to something as unattractive as a hen. It was a hard won battle to steal Priest away from the hen, but once the kitten felt the enveloping warmth of Troy's jacket, he was pleased enough with having a master. It was from that moment that the friendship was established, and happily so, as Troy was haunted by a perpetual demon that seemed to tortuously mutilate anything that he felt love for.

His parents were the only exception to the string of deaths since they abandoned Troy after dropping him at an orphanage. He had resided with multiple foster families, but each and every one of the houses had crumbled under some kind of misfortune that forced them to return Troy to the orphanage. The carers at the institute initially made a malicious joke out of Troy's seemingly inevitable solidarity, but the joke lost it's flavor after the boy's appearance took a disturbing turn for the worse. Eating had come to a halt, refusal to exercise melted his muscles down to skin and bone, and the absence of sleep had darkened and deepened his eyes. His hair was forever disheveled as were his shrunken clothes, and his skin was so extremely pallid that the color had absolutely drained from every inch of his body. This grotesque look startled and even frightened the workers and other children, and as there is always one child who takes it upon themselves to make matters worse, a rumor started that he was a living, walking corpse. As time went on, Troy limited himself to his chamber, and when new children came in waves to the orphanage, the rumor lingered and seeped into their ears, their chambers, and even their dreams. Poor Troy became a kind of a ghost, wandering around the the orphanage that had, through an extended rumor, transmogrified into his purgatory after he had committed suicide some years ago, and if one should wait up past three in the morning, they might just see the form of a weeping boy in the corner of the sitting room. There was no saving him. He was a lost soul.