Somewhere in the east coast of California, there was a small city known as Drava, It had a few schools, banks, gas stations; the list goes on.

In this town was a young boy with a split personality. At times he could be really ecstatic and cheerful, other things things got a little weird. Walking down the street in his usual black overcoat, the boy was on his way to the coffee shop just a bit down the road from his Mom's house. He was planning to move out soon since he knew that she couldn't stand him ever since the fight had broke out about four years back.. His father, a burly man who had worked night-to-night to keep the place running had lost his patience once again in the middle of the 
day, angry with how his own flesh and blood liked to portray himself. [i]"You look like a fuckin' punk, why the hell'd you let him dye his hair for anyway ?, Kid looks like shit with that mop."[/i] his dad had said with a overly aggresive tone, flipping through the daily newspaper for a bit. 

Normally things usually calmed down after that but his dad kept eyeing him, a disgusted look stilled on his face before he quickly moved from his seat at the dinner table and quickly grabbed him by the arm. [i]"No son of mine is going to look like some piece of garbage..."[/i] he said before starting to rush him towards the bathroom. 
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Tyler snapped out of it as a car nearly ran him down in the middle of the street, he was in a cold sweat and he heard the angry honking as he looked over to the streetlight which had turned red and he saw the big Red hand motioning for him to stop; it occured to him though, that stopping in the middle of the road wasn't the best choice of action. Quickly, he pulled up his hood and ran across the street, only a block away from the coffee shop.