Katha Lujan //JOJO OC\\

Rough beginnings

Where do I even begin?
My name- yes, my name.
Start easy-

My name is Kartha Lujan.

My name means "Pure". He really messed up with that one, or did my dead beat mom choose it?
Who cares, either way it's far from the truth in my opinion.
Funny to name me something so sweet for someone who was a mistake, well- everyone's a mistake. Okay not everyone, but most kids are. But I seriously shouldn't have happened.
You see my dad and mother were in the military. And as my dad told me, it was a party. A celebration. I think they had taken over an enemy camp or something?

Flash back
John Lujan

"Dude! You've got some balls being the first to go in after we threw in that grenade! Good thing it was just civilians eh?"
A rough patt landed on my back so hard I stumbled forward a bit. My jaw clenched a bit.
Fuck.
It was just civilians! Innocent people! How could someone be so fuckin relaxed with that on their conscience. "Yeah.."
"Fuck! You're such a buzz kill dude! Relax, today we get to party and live it up!"
I walked away, dodging soldiers as they weaved around, finding their friends after the battle and getting comfortable. Derek... He always had some booze on him to get the night going. I just wanna forget today.

I made my way to the usual bonfire we grouped at, and surely enough he was there. "Derek, hit me dude" I lifted my arms up to catch the incoming flask.
"Rough one?" He muttered, trying to talk and balance a cigarette in his mouth as he rummaged through his endless pockets, looking for a lighter.
"Like you wouldn't believe dude-" I tossed him mine, always keeping it in my breast pocket. I plopped down on the log we had next to the barrel to act as a bench. In return he handed me a cigarette and I leaned over to let him light it for me as I unscrewed the flask.

"I'm assuming you don't want to talk about it?" He said between huffs.
"You know it-" I groaned, chugging half the flask. Naturally scowling at the taste of hard whiskey.
"Dude your gonna empty the whole thing!" He reached for it.
"Let me have it dude!" I groaned, his dark green eyes softened, and his olive skinned hand retreated back "alright- alright man, you can have it"

He knew what I had gone through as a child, years of being beaten for being a "beady eyed Mexican" as my alcoholic of a step father called it. How he beat me and my brother black and blue, dumped the trash out onto our beds. How my mother played favorites, never stepped in to help.
That bitch
She's the reason I'm here.
Never bought us clothes, forced me to get a job at 14. Always had us step in to save her when that drunk came home to beat her. How she gave me and my brothers jack shit but my sister's got the world handed to em.

Fuck, when I finally moved out she made me take in my little brother. I couldn't feed myself let alone someone else.

I downed the rest of that flask-

And then I found a whole bottle-

And then everyone started lookin real pretty to me- Even the ugly ones.

End.

He told me most of that night was a blur.

But one thing he did know is that he got laid by someone.
My mother, of course.
Duh.
If that wasn't obvious?
Well it turns out the military really doesn't take kindly to pregnant women and men that can't keep it in their pants long enough to get home after the war. My mom was sent home, abortion was really frowned upon back then, hell it still is now apparently. And my dad? Well he's a earnest guy. It's his fault, and he's willing to claim that so he took responsibility.