Being born into a life of danger, mystery, and constant crime does something to a child's mind. But not yours. I mean, you turned out pretty good, right?

Your father was a single man working a dangerous job, but was very skilled and strong enough to manage. He was apart of the mafia. Not the boss, but pretty close to the boss.. very, very close to the boss. And you? Just a little boy, still in school struggling with classes.

You weren't poor, though. Even though you dressed like it, wearing a lot of sweaters. You were diagnosed with a mental disorder early, and your father did his best to protect and keep you happy. Right now, you were going on a playdate to the park with one of your father's friend's son, named Tyler. He was an athletic boy.

Your father looked at you both, before smiling down. "Have fun, kiddos. We'll be talking over here." He nodded, before going to talk with Tyler's father. Tyler looked back at you.