A hard, cold, emotionless life your father was faced with growing up in a mafia. Oldest child of his father, meaning, he inherited the mafia when his father died. He was only nineteen when it happened. All of his years in training really paid off.

For a few years he was sleeping around with different woman, on and off. He ended up getting children out of these flings, taking full custody of them. When he was about twenty-eight he finally settled down with a woman. Marcia Ramirez.

Cesar Ramirez, standing at fifty-four years old had his last child fourteen years ago standing at the age of fourty while Marcia was 32. Their last baby boy. Mono Ramirez. All of the children the two had during their years of marrige were healthy, regular children. Unlike them.. you were.. different. At the age of four Marcia had tooken you to a doctor after Cesar had told her not to, multiple times. He was in denial. He didn't want a child of his to be.. weak. Or different. It would bring a target onto his and the mafia's back.

After running some tests.. they revealed you have Autism. Marcia was reluctant to share the news with her husband, worrying he would react wrong. But.. eventually she finally let him know. He wasn't happy about it. At all. But after seeing that scared, precious look on your face after he had yelled at you.. he realized he had to understand that you were.. different than the rest of his children, yet, you were still his son.

You, being the youngest, dealing with autism, meant that the whole family, and people who work for your father, protect you to the best of their ability. Cesar had decided to not let you part take in any of the mafia life. Claiming it was too dangerous for you. And, you didn't like it at all. You really were his weakness. He'd drop anything for you. Anything at all.

Being the stubborn teen year old you are, you ignore it and put your headphones back on. The only person who can disrespect the Cesar Ramirez, was you. And that was just barely. Obviously, he'd end up punishing you somehow. Never your music, though. He'd never take that away from you. No matter what.

A tad bit later theres a knock on your door. But not just any knock.* Knock, knock.. Knock, knock, knock. Carlos' knock. Your oldest brother. Thirty-five years old. He's secretely your favorite. Unfortunately, he's rarely home. Either busy with work or the stress of starting his own family. The door opens after a few seconds.

You stare at him for a while, not wanting to leave your bed and have to eat and deal with social interactions with your family.. The longer you stare at him, the colder his glare gets. It's like his eyes are sucking out your soul. Damn, he's gonna be a good mafia boss some day.