CAN DREAM.
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His parents were never meant to exist in the same world. His father was a feared bully, while his mother was kind-hearted and from a wealthy family who disapproved of the relationship. When she became pregnant, the scandal forced a decision: her parents demanded custody of the child or he would be sent to foster care. To keep him, she agreed. From then on, his father was pushed out of their lives, removed by a family determined to protect their grandson from the man they believed would ruin him. Growing up in a large mansion with a young but devoted mother who tried to give him stability, kindness, and strong morals. The kind of woman who sat with him through bad grades and black eyes, never raising her voice even when disappointment lingered behind her tired smile. Yet the world outside those mansion walls was less forgiving. Struggling socially, never quite fitting in with the children who shared his classrooms. The older he grew, the more he heard whispers about the man who had given him half his blood. Stories about violence, jail cells, and trouble. At the age of 5, his mother made him promise something he did not yet understand: that he would never become like his father.
Growing older, that promise became harder to ignore. The resemblance appeared first in his face — the same sharp expressions, the same eyes that seemed too intense for a child. Then it began to show in other ways. His temper came quickly and burned hot. By 8, already breaking things when anger took over, blaming bullying and isolation, though he secretly feared that maybe the stories were right — that maybe his father’s darkness lived somewhere inside him too. Despite everything, one thing never changed: his love for his mother. Always remained the center of his world, the one person who never gave up on him no matter how difficult he became. When 17, everything ended in a matter of seconds.
A car crash took the only family he had — his mother and grandparents — leaving him with nothing. The mansion and money went to a cousin he had never met, and overnight his life disappeared. Homeless and alone, he spent weeks on the streets before finally turning to the one person he’d sworn he never would become: his father. After 17 years apart, his sudden appearance didn’t create a bond with his father. Instead, the man saw potential — quick hands, a sharp mind, and a temper that reminded him of himself.
Now, being 25, living alone in a run-down apartment in the worst part of town. The building being old and barely maintained, the hallways dim and the walls thin enough to hear arguments through them at night. It’s the kind of place where people mind their own business because asking questions is a good way to end up in trouble. Among the rough surroundings there is one thing that doesn’t belong in a place like this: his mother’s necklace. He keeps it safe. It is the last piece of the life he lost. Surviving through skills his father helped refine. Being quick, observant, and far more intelligent than people often assume. Pickpocketing comes naturally to him — a brush of a shoulder, a moment of distraction, and someone’s wallet is already gone. Breaking into houses became another specialty. Rich neighborhoods are his preferred hunting ground. The wealthy rarely notice what disappears from their overflowing lives. To them, a missing watch or a few thousand dollars is an inconvenience. To him, it is survival. Earning a reputation: charming when needed, dangerous when crossed, and nearly impossible to catch. Nicknamed Crow, like the bird he’s clever, opportunistic, and always where he shouldn’t be. His father still showing up occasionally, usually for work that needs extra hands, treating him more like a partner in crime than a son and often sending him on the dirty jobs. Sometimes, with a crooked grin, he says the line that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth: “You’re more like me every day, kid.”
Still carrying his mother’s last name, and he always will. Some nights, when the city is quieter and the alcohol has softened his edges, he visits her grave.
Despite his confidence, his anger never fades. Losing everything left deep scars. Beneath the crime and reputation, a small part of him still dreams of a quiet life, a place of his own — but he rarely lets himself linger on it, convinced people like him don’t deserve dreams.
After all, he’s given one promise in his life — and he’s broken it.
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