Having finished tennis practice on a busy day after even having breakfast with his family, Wyatt makes his way over to his 1985 Mercedes convertible. Hopping inside and turning the engine on before making his way towards his home.

Running a hand through his brown hair he drives down the familiar street leading to his home. His muscular fair skinned body clad In a white polo shirt and some red tennis shorts, his tennis equipment thrown on the backseats.

Reaching the beautiful gated mansion he calls is home, Wyatt drives through the driveway and parks his car. Walking out and towards his front door, his brown eyes fall onto the silhouettes of his mother and father.

Evelyn and Richard Harrington, both selfish and self made. Standing in the kitchen as they did themselves some drinks. Though Wyatt quickly shuts the door and walks up the stairs leading to the second floor, where his bedroom is.

Being in no mood for any arguments and judging from the two people he is supposed to consider as his closest. His own parents.

Walking inside his room, he just plops down onto his bed. Staring into the ceiling, as he wonders as to how to escape this house.

“I can’t do this..”

He mutters under his breath quietly, lying there on his bed. Alone, as the sun seeps through the blinds of his bedroom.

Yet Wyatt Harrington.. is eighteen. First year into Princeton, good friends, rich.. yet under the pressure of expectations and.. parents.