Name: Derron Brown.
Date of Birth: August 28th, 1998.
Place of Birth: Nevada, USA.
Height: ~178 CM.
Weight: ~76 KG.
Physical Features: Medium to good fit. Scar from a knife stab in his back and stomach.
Character Type: Friendly.
Hey, my name is Jake, and this is the story of Derron Brown. As you probably not guessed it, this story does not conclude to a happy ending, because I am talking about a happy young man becoming something even you couldn not think about, I am talking about my fucking brother.
If in any case you think that I disrepect Derron, you should think otherwise, because he is my fucking brother, and no words can describe my feels about him.
Part I: Childhood.
So the story goes as this, it was August 28th of 1998, arround 5:40 AM in the morning as me and my father, Philip, were standing over a hospital bed with my mother on it, Michelle, who would hold a little crying prick in her arms. My father would be in tears over his joy for our newborn member, so would my mother, but I wasn't. I knew that many things in my life would change because of that baby and I hated it, I was six at that time and as young kid I perceived some things otherwise.
So, these next years were a little harsh for me and my little brother, because our parents used to work at night and I had to take care of him, and we were not having a good time because he cried a lot for him mother. Well in the end, I got used to it, and mostly him, since I had nothing else to do, so I started playing with him, it was not bad at all though we were also starting to bond together more and more as the years passed.
After 6 years of ordinary life for our family, Derron would show and interest over my Dad's bike, a 1998 Harley-Davidson HERITAGE SOFTAIL, it was black and had red flames on it. Honestly, although it looked cool, I wasn't that much into bikes, but our father was and so would my brother. They soon started taking small rides over the town we lived and Derron was loving it, we lived in Reno at the moment, a town in Nevada. After a few years, when Derron was almost 9, the small rides they went, would become trips over Nevada. They used to travel some of the most known lakes of our State and have a picnic there as they enjoyed the fresh air and the environment. As they were having fun doing that, I was sitting home with my mother, I was really close with her as Derron was with his father, we would spend time together watching movies and doing other stuff, I had friends but when I didn't go out, I had something better to do than sitting in my room.
Meanwhile, Derron's social life would go very well, he would meet new friends all the time in school but preffered having his three closer to him for his main group, I wasn't a part of them because of the age comparison between us. Derron wasn't exactly into books, he preferred a ride with his Dad more than staying home.
Part II: A Ride With The Bike.
When Derron had problems over people who bullied him, i stoop up for him, taking care of every problem he had, as his older brother I believe it was my duty doing that. With me having his back, he had his confidence boost up. At the age of 13, he would start to ride our Dad's bike, he would also ride it to school, showing it off at his friends. Other than that, at the age of 14, he would start goin to the the gym, and by the time his body would be fit, he started taking boxing lessons so that he could stand up for himself for when it was needed. At the age of 16, he was one very fit teenager with good boxing skills, though he didn't go to any tournaments because he wasn't that interested. He would wear his father's leather jacket since the first day he granted it to him as he was riding his bike in town.
Soon, his self confidence would bring him to fight with some of the toughest kids at school since they provoked him, beating them up. He came home holding in his bruised knuckles a letters from the school principal explaining his actions and demanding a better behavior, we three males of our family would be proud of that since he beat up all kids that tried bullying him, but our mother would feel a little sad over this, because she didn't want that type of future for her son.
Now, at the age of 17, after he became on tough motherfucker, with girls liking him more from that, he finally found his master. We got a call from the hospital that he got into a bar fight and got his ass beat by some older guy, me and my father will head to that bar on foot since it's close from here. so we can head with the bike to the hospital, my mother will stay home, she has some things she has to take care first, she will visit Derron later.
Part III: My Fault.
Hello, this is Derron writing. Today is the 3rd of December 2016, same day I got beat up at that bar. I finally found the courage to write in this portofolio since i found it three months ago, as you see a lot of things have happened since then. So, at that day, my mother told me my father rushed to the bar with Jake, the took his bike and speeded off towards the hospital I was held to, I was in a pretty mess, I got stabbed once in my back and once in my stomach but I did not let my family know that on phone. As he was coming to the hospital with Jake on the back, he would be speeding at many red lights, but there is a reason this lights were red. At one crossroad, as he was running through it with a red light, a big truck would run up and crash them from the left side, breaking my both of their left leg, blasting them off the bike as they would hit their head in the asphalt, cracking their skulls open as they both would die instanteneously.
After that, I blamed it all on my self, as i still do, because if hadn't got into that fight now they would be here with me, but I was a fool and cannot afford to let my mother down again. My mother would mourn for our loss for two months before she finally got over it, but I didn't, I never did. As soon as I finished high school I immidiately started working at the reception of a hotel we have in town to help with the economy in house, the job pays well and I intend to keep working there as it helps my family.
Part IV: Moving on.
It's been two years since my last entry, haven't had the time to bother to be honest. In the two years a lot have happened, I continued working at the hotel as my mother would stay work as a babysitter, the job didn't pay well so I was the only one with an average wage to keep the family going. We started getting close to each other as I did with my father, she's my only blood so there was no other way. I eventually got promoted in the job and things would finally start to get better financially, after some time, as I saved some money, I bought a new bike so that I can enjoy riding though the city again, a 2013 Harley-Davidson V-Rod Night Rod Special would it be. Time would pass as we were getting better over and over when suddenly one day, I got a call from the hospital, It was my mother, she had a collapsed infront of the kids she was watching over, I rushed there only to find out after some examinations that she had a tumour in her brain. Then it all just went downhill again, I started struggling in my work because I hadn't enough sleep since I was taking care of my mother as would start to talk in struggle and could not even walk. We started doing chemotherapies as soon as we found out but the tumour would not stop growing. I struggled, she struggled more and eventually one day I woke up only to find here laying in her bed, pale white skin with her eyes open.
And here I am again after one month, sitting here writing this shitty portofolio of my mine as I got packed my bag. This place is no longer for me as it brings me too many memories, I decided to head over to Los Santos, I heard this place will fit a Blackcat like me perfectly. Off I go now.
To Be Continued...
(Note: This is my first story so please be kind )