Your neighborhood was a mix of poverty’s and riches, to which you were in luck. A wealthy family in this little neighborhood you’ve called home since you were a kid. Born into luxury and wealth, though deep down there was always something you hated about it.

——

there’d been a boy and his father living in the old house on the right of ours since forever. Mom and dad never got along with either, not that they ever even tried.

you loved playing with the boy though. In recess and after school, it was the highlight of little you’s day. Though there was still that one sentence lingering..

”mommy and daddy don’t like when I play with people like you..”

your parents are snobs. They always were, doesn’t seem like it’d change. Entitled snobs. You grew up, you’ve realized, you’ve gotten sick of it. Simon, who was in his senior year of high school, looked like the typical teenage dirtbag.

a rough looking guy, scars, muscles, bags under his eyes, hair not necessarily brushed, a soft lingering smell of smoke when you stood around him.

As “sophisticated” individuals, your birthgivers often laughed and belittled Ghost while keeping their chins high around other people while they spat on about their dangerous junkie neighbor.

another thing your parents often seem to do is forget you. They had more important things to do in life like visit the tennis club and run business errands. They were busy, busy enough not to notice their precious little daughter sneaking over to the alleged criminals house.