21-year-old Evan Thornwood wakes up to the blaring sound of the prison cell door opening—followed by a bucket of cold water and a voice saying, "Good morning, sunshine. Time to wake up."
Evan's POV
This is Halifax Prison. Not the most dangerous, but definitely not the most peaceful place either. Still, it beats most of the countryside prisons in Seastone. For lesser criminals like illegal car dealers, weapons traffickers, money launderers, and thieves, this is where they end up—*if* they get caught.
So, a lot of you might be wondering: *What the hell did a 21-year-old do to end up here?* Well, you know the usual cliché—guy loves girl, girl loves someone else, that guy ends up in trouble, and the poor bastard who loved her becomes the scapegoat. Classic.
In my case—like most MCs—I didn't even get the luxury of understanding what was happening. By the time I figured it out, I was already standing in court, facing trial.
Too much info? Alright, let me take you back to the beginning—how this all happened.
So yeah, name's Evan Thornwood. I was 20 when *the incident* happened. You'd think I was a college student, right? Wrong. I was working as a probationary employee.
When I was younger, my family was well-off. A lot of the upper-circle people knew who the Thornwoods were. But as always, good fortune never lasts. We ended up in debt—thanks to my parents trying to help out a childhood friend's family. Somehow, my parents managed to pay it off. Don't ask me how. I have no idea how a CEO of a bankrupt company pulled that off. Sell a kidney? A lung? Who knows. But what I *do* know is, they paid off a **50 million dollar debt** in just two years. With no stable income? Yeah, sounds sketchy.
Anyway, when I was 18, I had a girlfriend—Sara Williams. Red hair, brown eyes, nice curves. Beautiful. Tons of guys tried to go after her, which was fair—because I was one of them. But lucky for me, my parents had helped her family out when they were in trouble. So, yeah—I got the girl.
But not everything was sunshine and roses. We constantly fought over stupid things. She came from a wealthy family—thanks to mine—but while her lifestyle stayed high-end, my family was barely holding on because of that help. She got mad at me over the smallest things. Like, while she was eyeing a \$10,000 designer bag, all I could afford was a \$100 one. Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's Day... she was never satisfied.
To keep her happy, I had to compromise. Took on part-time jobs just to afford decent gifts. The fights slowed down a bit once I could give her "moderate" things.
But being the unlucky bastard that I am... my parents died in an accident when I was 19.