Marla: X-Men BackGround

Name: Marla
Age: Infinitely 7
Race: Human
Type: Shape-Shifter
Birthday: March 17th
Height: 48in/1.2m
Weight: 60lbs/27.2kg
Complexion: 3
Hair: Deep Blue
Eyes: Bright Green
Casual Outfit:
Black Cotton TankTop
Black Leather Jacket
Black Skinny Jeans

    It all began the day that I ran away from home. That apartment was damned, I swear. Well, anyways, I was seven at the time. My "parents" were in one of their normal arguments again. That bastard was throwing things at the old bitch again. The height of the sound was enough, so trudged past all the dirty laundry that scattered the floor as well as the broken lamp and walked right out the door. Left that thing wide open to let them know. The last words I heard from them? It was that woman I called "mother" screaming to "father", Way to go, you made that little witch leave!
    I simply walked through the halls saying my normal "hi" to the others I passed that lived in that trash hole of a building. Afterwards, I walked out onto the street. It was dark, probably ten in the evening, and the concrete was drenched in rain. My bare feet went real cold, real quick.
    For a couple weeks I lived next to a dumpster with the same daily routine: Sleep in the corner between where the two dumpsters meet, wake up, wait for someone to take out their trash, search for scraps and keep repeating that until I eat. Afterwards, I would spend the day walking the streets. Nobody ever spoke to me... A young seven-year-old girl with dirty, matted hair and dirt covered clothing. Not a single word, but many stares.
    Speaking of clothing, one of the days in those two weeks, somebody tossed out a whole bag of clothes. It was a rainy night, and I was looking for long sleeves. The only thing of that I could find was a black leather jacket. I've kept it ever since.. It really helped since the sleeves of my T-shirt had gotten ripped off from the cloth being so weak. Like I said, I still have that jacket today. It fits a bit better now, and I've found a black cami and jeans to match it as well... Now that I think of it, I think I know why nobody ever spoke to me...
    I know I said this all began the day I ran away, but honestly... It was two weeks until the day of no return. It was this black cat that was walking around. I was walking back to my dumpster after a walk, it was dark and once again rainy. (It rained nearly every other day in that dreaded old town). I saw this small cat. It was pure black, and extremely fluffy... and starved. I lured it over to me with some scraps from the trash, and I began petting it. It stayed with me overnight, that day.
   We awoke at the same moment, and she (the cat was a female) began walking away ever so casually. Somehow she had gained weight, she looked normal in the sense. I chased after her, but that seemed to have angered her... She immediately turned and snapped on me. I remember her claws digging into my chest, beneath my collarbones. I was attacked by this little, tiny cat. The only thing I remember before that moment was her bloody red eyes...

    Today, as I tell you this story, I'm having a friend of mine write it for me. It's terribly complicated to try and type with claws and paws. I'm not very good at controlling my shapes when it comes to my "inner cat" as some like to call it. Sometimes I switch into other things, but not for very long... Instead, most of the time, I'm stuck as this giant house cat. My friend is sixteen, and when I'm standing in this form, I come up to his waist.
    In case it's not already obvious, I can still speak in this form. I can talk to other cats as well, it took a long time to get my human voice to express itself from this throat.  

    Marla just left. They're making sandwiches for lunch, and she smelled the tuna and bolted. There's one thing she didn't mention, and we're not sure if she's realized yet... But she's stuck in the body of seven year old when she's human. She should be sixteen like the rest of us are, but...
    Sounds like the sandwiches are done, so I guess that's all for her story.