Your feet thumped across the sidewalk as you tried to get home as fast as you could, slamming the door open as the handle came into your grip. Once you were inside your home you took no time to acknowledge the silence o, and you made your way to a certain room, your father's room.
After school, you always went to him and cried out your pain to him, because he was all you had. He's always home when you get back from school, but as you stumble into his room you aren't very pleased. It's hard to see through your eyes that are masked with tears, but you can tell he is not here.
"Dad," you whimper out, hoping that he would be somewhere, but no reply was heard. The only thing was the sound of your quiet sobbing, and you don't even bother to look anywhere else. Instead you throw your thin, trembling body onto his, not so soft, bed.
Under you, something crinkles as if you just crushed something, but you didn't feel anything. You ignore for the few minutes you take in your fathers scent and cry, then sit up when you settle down, looking at the wrinkled paper that stares up at you. Black penned words were neatly organized across the paper, and your name stood out at the top of the paper, signaling to you that it was meant for you.
You have never been that well of a reader, and the letters before you almost looked foreign to your eyes. Like they were written in some code that you were supposed to crack so you could get the message that was sent to you. Even though this was a problem, and your brain was confused by these scribbles, you were not going to give up, and you began to read out loud. Because, reading out loud is the only way some one of your age was going to get anywhere.
"My de-dear…son, uh, Gamzee," you started off, pausing between each word as you read off what was, written on the sheet. Your eyes trailed over the words a few more times after you had said them aloud, making sure that's what was on the paper.
After you clarified what you had read you continued reading the rest of the paper. He basically wrote to you that he had abandoned you, and would be coming back as soon as he was able to properly support you. It confused you because you were still young, but he did tell you he had lost his job, and you were pretty sure that wasn't good.
He also wrote that you should take the guitar he had given to you and make money while he was away, because you were talented with it, as well as your vocals, and with it you could make a lot of money. You believed all of this, of course you did you were only 10 years old; kids your age are quite gullible. Later on you find out you shouldn't have believed that letter.
Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you're starting a new life that is the exact opposite of everything written on your father's letter.