F M L {tvd}

FML {info}

If there was anything you needed to know about Louis Swayman, it was that he loved for speed. Adrenaline was his middle name, and his bike was his lover for 9 years. He was a piece of shit that came from a family of bastards and bitches, and he grew up to be just as big of an asshole as most of his family was and is.

He was 26 when he died- riding at insane speeds as usual, and met his end by flying off his bike after getting hit head on by another asshole who was drunk behind the wheel and driving in the wrong lane. Louis' body hit a tree at a high speed, and he hung from the branches, body broken, and his neck being choked by a branch- his helmet not helping him breath any more than it would've had it been off.

He died a man with no friends, an estranged family, and no one to mourn him outside maybe one of his three younger brothers.

And another thing to know about Louis Swayman- is that most of what you read about him above was not at all how he truly was. It was how he thought about himself, and how he presented himself to the world and to his family.

In truth, he was a man with a soft heart. He worked overtime most days, pushed himself to exhaustion every day, and he lived exclusively to make money and give it to the world, his little brothers and kept excruciatingly little to himself.

The only things he owned were his bike, his gear, and a small, dingy apartment in the worst, most crime ridden part of Hammond, Louisiana. He had a gun on him at all times, always kept unloaded, and he never, ever harmed a human being unless he had to for self defense, where he usually came out unscathed and left others bruised and beaten, but never worse than that.

He owned two cats, which were his whole world (outside his little brother), and he treated them better than he ever treated anyone or anything other than his bike.

The only truth to the words above, is that Louis Swayman was an adrenaline junkie that lived for the speed. And even then, maybe that isn't the best way to put it. He's a man too poor to pay for therapy, and a man too poor to vacation or take more time off work than necessary. He used speed as his therapy and used the adrenaline high to calm his pain, to cure his hurting and heartache.

Because Louis Swayman was a man who fell in love only once, in highschool, and he held on to his girl for a decade, until she decided that loving a poor man who had nothing but the few, small things to his name, was not the life she wanted to have. And, deciding to be cruel instead of simply telling him she no longer wanted to be with him, she took her side piece to his apartment half an hour before he was meant to return home from work, and she started fucking him on his couch, there for Louis to walk in on exactly half an hour later.

And instead of reacting violently, or getting angry, he simply put his stuff on the counter, and told the guy to leave and take her with him. To say she was shocked was an understatement - and her shouting could be heard by all the inhabitants of the building. But his words had shocked them all (those that were nosy and trying to eavesdrop and his now ex girlfriend).

"You chose to fuck someone on my couch, and you think you deserve anything but getting dumped like the trash you are? You threw a decade long relationship away for the life of a rich bitch. I would genuinely be surprised if anyone would keep you like I have. Be thankful I'm not violent. Fuck off, now, and be trashy elsewhere."

He died that night, recklessly going to his bike, tension filled and angry, and above all deeply, almost irreparably hurt. Hanging off a tree, and filled with several, deep kinds of pain, all of them slowly but surely killing him as he once was.

His death tragic, and his life bleak. His funeral was a quiet thing. Only three neighbours showed up, if only to give his beloved little brother the deed to the apartment and his cats, along with the meager stash of money and the life insurance that only his little brother could cash. His family wasn't present outside the brother, and the will reading was packed by useless piranhas that were desperate for something to be left for them by an estranged son, cousin or nephew. None of them got a thing, outside all his little brothers (small, insignificant things that didn't matter to Louis).

Charities around town got quiet donations that, despite them being quiet, everyone knew who and where they came from- and families that were once struggling suddenly were no longer struggling as much. He helped as many as he could, even in his death. And maybe that's why, when that light reached him as he finally choked out his last breath,

H e found h i m s e l f awake a g a i n.