Remus / Thirteen
His story was a sad one; Remus could say that, looking at it objectively. It was his truth, his reality. He couldn't change it. He had no idea what a normal childhood was like. He barely remembered what it was like not to be a werewolf. So yes, it was awful. What had been done to him was cruel and entirely unfair but he couldn't change it, so he had to just deal with it. Eighteen years and two hundred and sixteen transformations later and he was still dealing with it.
"You are very kind," he said. "It isn't everyday I've met someone who would look at me with empathy and care." And that was really the sadder truth, to Remus. The people in his world had no compassion for those with his affliction. Only disdain and fear. Mostly; some were understanding. Some did want to help. His friends, of course. A few others here and there. But mostly? Just prejudice.
"No, he is notoriously known for his violence and dark tendencies. Quite often he positions himself and members of his pack near populated towns during the full moon just so he can either kill or turn more people into werewolves," Remus said. "No one seems to be able to catch him. At least, up until this point. I hope one day he will be brought to justice for his crimes."