Her name was Anna Jacobi, an Irish woman, she had been a waitress at a bar he went to. They had sex the night after they met. It was hot and fiery, he enjoyed himself but she wasn't anything special, so she left his house the morning after. Just a one night fling for her to brush off like nothing had ever happened. But something did happen, and nine months later little Anthony Tyler Jacobi was born.

Her husband was not pleased when she told him who the baby's real father was, in fact, he made both their lives a living hell after that. Little Anthony didn't even resemble his birth father, he had very light blond hair like his mother's that was almost white and wide innocent chocolate brown eyes.

Yet his step-father hated him bitterly and would almost sneer every time he said his name, so as soon as he was able to speak, Anthony called himself 'Tyler' and only answered to that name.

-SeventeenYearsLater-

"Ye done running away, fairy?"

An overly masculine voice sneered near Tyler's left ear and he sighed as the five bigger boys jumped him. It wasn't anything new. That's what he thought as he got the breath knocked out of him by a huge foot wearing a red and white trainer. Soon enough, he was on the ground of the alleyway , desperately trying to ignore the multitude of strong blows that rained upon him. If he stopped fighting back and just went limp, they would end up just leaving him there. They always did.

They'd been beating him up every chance they got, since he was in fifth grade. That was year when ten year old Tyler kissed a boy named Conner Campbell while they were on the playground, behind some bushes.

It was also the year that his mother grew addicted to heroine. Now she was a full time addict and had lost her job and Tyler's step-father was a drunk who spent more time at the bar than their rundown apartment.

Yet through all of that and trying to keep a job at a stupid video-store downtown, he kept going to school the most he could. He wanted to be a doctor, it was the stereotypical dream he knew but it was true. The only classes in school that he really understood were classes about science and anatomy, he was a wiz at technology as well but he didn't want to be an engineer. He wanted to help people.

"Ye had enough yet, Freak?"

One of his bullies laughed and Tyler just stayed silent, curled in a ball on the cold ground of the alley, smiling to himself as he heard heavy footfalls walking away, they were leaving. His spur of happiness left him as he felt raindrops on his face. Goody, now it was raining.

Tyler winced as he climbed to his feet, tasting the rusty tang of blood in his mouth. Everything hurt. He ran a hand through his spiky hair and sighed, he really hated his hair, among other things.

It was always spiky, no matter what he did to it and he'd always had extremely light blond hair but one day he was an idiot and decided to dye it white. Now he guessed it was permanently stuck that way because it stayed, for a long time.

He was a punk, for lack of a better term. His hair and the fact he always wore black or neon colored clothing would have already marked him as one. But then when he was fifteen he decided to get snake-bites, they were twin lip piercings on either side of his mouth, an eyebrow piercing and a tongue piercing. He didn't really know why he got them, probably because he wanted to rebel, but there was no one to really impress anyway.

Soon the light rain had turned into a heavy downpour and he found himself on his hands and knees, trying to find his textbook filled backpack. Once he finally grabbed his moth-eaten backpack, he slung it over one shoulder and ran out of the alley, trying not to limp as to avoid questions from his mother when he got home. Unless she was high, then it didn't matter either way.

He jogged along the sidewalk, using his dark jacket as a makeshift umbrella as he hurried towards their apartment.

But his heart stopped and his blood ran cold when he saw it, the mass of police cars and an ambulance in front of their apartment building. He instantly ran as fast as he could towards it, practically having to beat his way through the crowd of nosy people grouped around it, as he did so. They were rolling a stretcher out of their apartment as he ducked under the police caution tape. He was hoping, praying that it was his father.

But when he saw the long, dirty, light-blond hair that was almost white falling out in waves from under the sheet that covered the body they rolled out, he knew.

She'd finally done it.

Overdosed.

He remembered falling to his knees in the rain, the freezing water chilling him to the bone as he landed in a puddle but, he didn't care. The mass of umbrellaed onlookers converged on him, asking him if he knew the victim and all that jazz. But he didn't understand them at first so they had to keep repeating the same question over and over until he finally managed to stammer out...

"She's me mammy."

Instantly their was an uproar in the crowd and he was basically forced towards the police men. One of which grabbed his arm and led him to a police car. Tyler followed numbly, not quite understanding what was going on or what had happened to his mother. The officers ended up taking him from the scene to the station, where he spent the night curled up on one of the benches.

-TimeSkip(AFewDays)-

That was how he found himself on a plane, leaving his home country of Ireland for New York City, America and the father who he never knew.