Connor Mac Niadh | D11 | Cb Fin

You are born from the bottom of the barrel.

A boy with nothing more than the family dump in your family's name. You've grown tough over the years; pushing boys around as if there words didn't hurt you. Head held high in that demeanor of being better than the kids who looked down on you. You've got bruised ribs and bloodied knuckles from the days of scrapping in the junkyard with kids. Your siblings all have grown used to what your family's home; all of you growing to help around the district with waste and the place you call home. The shack in the center of the junkyard being the home you come home to. You've grown stronger every year since being apart of the Mac Niadh family. A family made of champions who've built up the junkyard and grown up with love in your hearts.

School was never your favorite place; kids who didn't understand what your life was like would tease you. Growing thicker skin than most you pushed and pulled at those kids until your heart felt better. You put on an act with cigarettes and alcohol; laughing at the kids who dared to look down upon you. In your own fucked up way, you felt powerful with bloodied knuckles and bruised body parts. A name is just a name, but you've learned yours comes with expectations. You've built a legacy in the district of being a shithead kid who doesn't take no for an answer. Everything is yours and no matter what anyone says you punch first and ask questions later.

Deep down, no one knows who your really are. Fraying poetry books locked away in your top drawer with a half empty pack of cigarettes. No one knows the kid who used to cry when you fell from the top of a metal heap pile having to go see the district's best healers to handle it. Years spent surrounded by the things people called you and you couldn't be happier. The junkyard was your home and people didn't understand that.

You loved it here.

Anyone else who dares to think otherwise could eat a fist sandwich.