Nick Gregory's Point of View
SIRENS WAILING 
I was in the hospital. After the accident in Taft Avenue, I didn't expect the result.
"So are you blaming me? Or should I blame you for being my father?" I asked him.
"You want to end his life. Lawrenz never did anything wrong to you," the janitor, my father, said.
"He isn't dead. He is comatose. Are you blind?" I smirked.
Having a father working as a janitor makes me feel small. I hate this life, being a poor person. The Tybalt family turned down everything, reducing us to complete nothingness, confined to a poor area.
My mother works all day to afford sending me to a private school. I never imagined that everything I had before would become nothing.
I WAS 8 WHEN I UNDERSTAND OUR LIVES
"Why are you still studying in a prestigious school, Nick? Do you think it will make you richer despite the shortage in your family situation?" my neighbor asked me. Kalvim never hesitated to question everything about my life.
"Because my mother knows that she can afford it," I answered, leaving him alone in that void of judgment. I witnessed a lot of people, engaging in smoking, gambling, and malicious activities.
When I was going to enroll, my uncle told me that I could transfer to Hera Academy as I excelled academically. I had a zealous body that suited basketball. "If you train your body well, you can be whatever you want. But remember, Nick, you must remember their tyranny. So that, you will have power when the time comes."
I gazed at him, fully grasping what my uncle Shawn wanted to say. "Thank you for taking on all the responsibilities that my father can't. I will get back what they stole from us."
My uncle Shawn works in a fabulous and elegant restaurant. He introduced me to the owner. "Hi, I am Nick Gregory, sir."
"Oh, what a young boy! I'm Patrick, how's life?" he asked enthusiastically.
From that day on, I always visited the restaurant. I often told Mr. Patrick that I wanted to work for him when the time came.
"You really want to help your mother. I never asked this, but where's your father?"
I subtly smiled. "He is somewhere that we don't even know."
He nodded. "Then your uncle Shawn and I will take care of you. Don't worry; I will support your study while you are a kid, is that okay?"
My eyes widened, and I quickly nodded at him. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
I tried to help by working as a dishwasher in Mr. Patrick's restaurant, who gave me opportunities to earn money. He always provided me with food, so when I got home, my mother was always flabbergasted.
"Mr. Patrick, I'm so proud of myself. We can be able to move into a cozy house. I also have a part-time job as a tutor. Regardless of how busy I am, I focus on basketball for the scholarship," I told him.
"That's good! I remember my nephew. He is the opposite of you, but he is a genius academically. However, he is doing something. I'm not sure, like business?" he chuckled.
"Oh, different people; different paths," I replied.
Life took a turn for the better as I juggled work, academics, and basketball. The bustling restaurant became a second home, and Mr. Patrick, a mentor guiding me through the intricacies of both the culinary world and life itself.
"I'm glad to see you growing, Nick. Remember, resilience is your greatest asset," he'd often say, his words resonating with the clatter of dishes and the sizzle of pans.
My evenings were devoted to tutoring, sharing the knowledge I'd gained in private school. The extra income allowed my mother to breathe a bit easier, and the dream of moving into a cozy house was slowly becoming a reality.
As I honed my skills in basketball, chasing a scholarship that could open doors to a brighter future, the echoes of my uncle's advice rang in my ears. "Remember their tyranny. So, you will have power when the time comes."
In the quiet moments, I pondered over the mysterious resentment Lawrenz Tybalt seemed to harbor. Was it merely a reflection of his opulent life clashing with my humble beginnings, or was there a deeper connection waiting to be unveiled?
One day, as I swept the restaurant floor, I lost my thoughts, Mr. Patrick approached me. "Nick, life is a journey filled with unexpected twists. You've come a long way, and I believe you have the strength to face whatever comes your way."
His words struck a chord, prompting me to delve into the intricacies of my own history. My mother, tirelessly working to provide me a better life, remained a pillar of strength. The absence of my father remained unforgivable.
As I balanced academics, work, and basketball, the Hera Academy offered a glimpse into a world of opportunities. 
One evening, after a satisfying game on the basketball court, I found myself face to face with Lawrenz Tybalt.
"The pig is here in my front," I uttered. He smirked. "So you've changed your body. The fat into stronger muscle. What's brought you here? To defeat me?"
"What a shame, Nick Gregory. I never belittle you but to imprison you when we get to legal age. There's always a boundary to everything," he warned me, as if I was scared.
"Nick, right? We haven't really talked," Lawrenz began, breaking the silence that had lingered between us. "That name will be removed once I figure out the passcode."
Sensing that our paths, though divergent, were destined to intersect in unexpected ways, I retorted, "The passcode? What are you talking about, crazy pig?" I pushed him, but he remained smirking.
"I'm not a pig, but I can bring you back to the mud," he said emotionally.
Lawrenz stared at me. As his body became physically fit and built stronger, he became what I expected. As he turned around to walk away, Daisy Lunaire appeared. The one that I wanted to have, and Lawrenz won her.
As I went to my locker, Dash Armenda approached me. I was about to avoid her, but when she spoke, I gave her my attention.
"You are a real loser, Mr. Nick Gregory. Do you think you can steal his life? Lawrenz is undefeated, and you are a loser who doesn't know anything." As she sarcastically laughed, I choked her.
"Then tell me, what is he working on? What about the passcode that he is trying to know? Why? Do you know anything that could help? If the answer is no, then you are introducing yourself as a real loser." When she couldn't breathe anymore, I let go of my hands from her neck. She coughed and turned her back.
"Not exactly, but there's a gang who's trying to get the box."
I glanced at her and continued to walk outside. "A box?" I chuckled. A box that needs to have a passcode? Hmmm... There's a padlock; they can break it so they can open that! As I pondered this, the mystery deepened, and the threads of Lawrenz Tybalt's life intertwined with mine in ways I hadn't anticipated.