My mother was a cook in Aguadilla, while my dad was a professional surfer, who was fairly known by the people around town. But after having your work specialized in Puerto Rico and moving to San José since my mother got a new job offer.

America had better chances of living for us and also better university access for Valentina. Since she was little, she dreamt about becoming a marine vet.

At least we thought conditions were better the day we arrived. Turned out that the restaurant closed due to vandalism and my mother didn't get the job. We had no money. The savings were spent on the flight and a hotel for a single night.

After that, we landed on the streets and spent two days in an alleyway. I remember my mother shaking like a leaf and my sister worrying about her education. My father didn't know what to do with his life after he didn't have beach access.

flashback, 9 years ago

My head leaned against the wall, while my mother collected any penny she had to buy some more canned food, which was way too overpriced.

I couldn't handle the dull and depressing atmosphere anymore and stood up, inhaling the cold January air.

"Where are you going, Teo?", my mother questioned, while Valentina was asleep on her lap.
„I'll distract myself and look around town for something that could help us."
I had something with little morality in my head. The world would hate me for the things I'd do to help my family.

The neighborhood I strolled along was rich, monstrous houses with massive lawns.
One of the houses caught my attention. An old mansion with a climbable fence. I swallowed the chunk in my throat. Trespassing and theft weren't in my nature until the ones worth fighting for were in danger.

That's why I pulled my hood over my head and climbed over the fence, landing on the grass. I enjoyed parcouring with my father and friends in Aguadilla, jumping over the roof and sliding down every railing we saw.

The lawn gnomes fixated on me, overgrown shrubs granting me a spot for hiding. I analyzed the house. Breaking in the front door was too loud and harsh. The garden had nothing valuable to steal.
A cellar window caught my attention. In an old house and secure neighborhood, it most likely wasn't hard to break.

Before I reached the window someone grabbed me from behind and threw me against the wall. I groaned, quickly getting up to defend myself from getting kicked in the stomach.
"It's fine! I surrender, call the police on me!"
The person in all black didn't move.
"You're not living here?"

*Was he trying to break in as well?"
"No. Do I look like I have money?", I argued.
His voice was deep and I could decipher a slight accent.
He pulled me toward him by my jacket and a knife out of his pocket.
I felt sick, the moment he pressed the sharp blade against my pulse.

"Either you're helping me find this safe or I'll color the shrubs with your blood."
"Y-yes. I'll help you!"
He yanked my hood off.
It was so dark, that his facial features were unnoticeable.
"Kneel and stay put.", he ordered, picking the cellar's window lock with a bobby pin. According to the smoothness he broke in, I believe, it wasn't his first time.

He stepped back.
"Climb into the cellar."
I nodded and crawled through the window, using the cupboards as a ladder. Surprisingly they supported me. The other robber followed me, landing like a cat.

Shelves of wine filled the dark space. Carefully, I sneaked towards the door leading to the main floor.
"Open it.", he urged.
The door led to a vast main room, kept in a medieval style. A staircase centered in the middle.
*What if we get caught*

I moved towards the stairs and lurked upwards, the stranger following me. Maybe, just maybe, the person owning this house was on vacation. Still, I'm glad for wearing gloves and hearing police sirens from afar.

A cracking spiral staircase led to the attic.
"In the attic, is a safe, it contains saving of Mister Conullo."
"How do you know?"
"I have my people."

The attic was habited by dust. He pushed me out of the way, kneeling in front of a safe, going through wild combinations, and standing on a piece of paper he pulled out.
"Guard the door and watch out for someone coming."
He dialed numbers with quick fingers, while the blood rushed in my ears, hearing the sirens getting closer.

"Do you think someone called the police on us?"
"I couldn't care less."
I watched the boy finally break the code. His leather jacket stood out to me. White painted seraphim, biblical angel. The initials 'G.S' stood on the bottom right.
He loaded stacks of money into a bag, he brought along.

Suddenly someone behind me cleared their throat.
An elderly man around sixty.
*Shit, that must be the house owner*

He drew a gun and before I could act, the boy shouted:
"Duck, Blondie!"

Initially, I shuddered, evading the punch and aiming towards the house owner automatically. The robber used his knife, which he used to threaten me with, and rammed it into the man's throat, leaving him gagging. Blood flowed out of his mouth.

The image was horrifying and the only thing that regained my attention were cops, storming the house and rushing up the stairs.

"Can you climb?"
"Climb? I- I mean isn't it danger-"
"Can you fucking climb?"
"Yes."

The police officers already shouting at to us stay still and don't move.
"Good. Follow me."
He escaped through the attic window, sliding down the rain-soaked roof, and after that the rain pipe down.
The police car suddenly bashed around the corner, the moment my feet touched the alleyway's muddy pavement.

"Hey, you! Hop on!" The robber exclaimed, slowly driving with his motorcycle.
I've never run faster in my life, plagued by the loud sirens.
*I witnessed a murder...plus committed theft...*

"Quick!", I threw my leg over the motorcycle.
He sped up right before the police car was able to ram us. Ignoring every street sign or traffic light, we bashed deep into the woods.

The sirens died and we hid behind an abandoned church.
"Nobody will find us here.", he promised, taking his hood off.
Hardly, I was able to notice some features. Messy, layered black hair, a remarkable scar, and definitely not colored eyes.

"So you do often criminal activity?"
"If you want to put in these words. Yes. I believe that I'm taking a burden of humanity after robbing and killing that man."
"He was innocent."
"If you think so..."

He picked up a twig and started peeling it with his knife.
"What are you planning to do with all of this money? Charity?"
"Drugs."
"Oh."
"But also for charity. I like sponsoring orphanages."
"Interesting."

He threw the peeled twig back onto the ground."
"That will scare them off."
"The police?"
He smirked.
"No better. The people who lurk around the abandoned church."
*Why would people even visit abandoned and demolished churches?*

He switched topics again.
"Why did you decide to break into the house? Kleptomania? In need of anything?"
I began explaining the story of how I used to live in Puerto Rico until my mother's job drama occurred and we were living on the streets.
"I'm sorry to hear about that...", he patted my back.

"My father died in a car crash and my mother is forcing me to be on drugs and well, my little sister is my only family, I love her more than anything else."
I smiled softly.
"Yeah, I love my little sister too. I hope she can afford her education."

Unexpectedly he passed me the sack of money.
"Take it get a hotel for you and your family. We have enough drugs."
"Who's we?"
He showed me his back.
"My gang. You can join if you like."

*Me? A gang member?*
"Uh..."
"Tomorrow, I suppose you don't have a clock, at sunset here again. I give you some time to think about this offer. We split the money fairly and you'll be able to finance your family."

"I'll let it get to my head."
The mysterious boy drove me back after a while of waiting back to my family, avoiding busy streets and using the ones, nobody drove.

I said my goodbyes to him until he stopped me.
"What's your name, by the way?"
If I ever going to be actual friends with this guy, it's most likely going to be my best. If we got along before knowing each other's names, this could just end well. Maybe joining his gang will be a benefit.

Matteo Díaz is the name I always went for in Puerto Rico.
*I just got in contact with the police already. I need to take care of my identity...*

"A-Adrián. Adrián Riviera."
He shook my hand formally.
"I'm Gabriel. Gabriel Sequiera. Nice to meet you Adrián."