Night had fallen over Silver Creek, shrouding the Williams house in tense silence. Grim sat on his bed, staring at his Colt Paterson sitting on a worn table. This object, given to him by his uncle years ago, represented much more than a weapon to him: it was the symbol of a freedom he had never tasted. He lost himself in thought, dreaming of a future where he would lead a powerful gang, surrounded by loyal soldiers.

His uncle's words echoed in his mind like a mantra: "A man must always be ready to defend what is his." » Grim imagined himself in a barren desert, dressed in a long dusty coat, giving orders to an army of outlaws. The idea almost made him forget the weight of his current life.

But the creak of a door abruptly brought him back to reality. Robert, his father, entered the room without knocking.

— Still dreaming, kid? he said in an icy tone as he saw Grim staring at his gun.

Grim clenched his fists, but didn't respond.

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—What do you think, exactly? That you're going to become a great man, like your uncle? Let me tell you something: this good-for-nothing guy hasn't done anything with his life except play cowboy. And look where that got him. Behind bars. Is this your model?

Grim raised his head, his blue eyes glinting with suppressed anger.

— My uncle may be in prison, but at least he lived for himself. He didn't spend his life breaking everything he had around him.

Robert stepped forward, his face red with rage.

— Look at me when I talk to you! This man has filled your head with his nonsense! Do you really think that dreaming will make you a man? Life is about surviving, period. Dream too hard, and you'll end up like him. Or worse.

Grim stood up abruptly, his hands shaking with anger.

—And you, do you think that breaking up your family makes you stronger? Mom, Andrew, Jack... We all hate you. You're just a tyrant incapable of respecting his own!

The silence that followed was deafening. Robert, unsettled by these words, raised a hand as if he was going to strike, but Grim did not move. He stared into his father's eyes, a silent but powerful challenge.

“Go ahead and knock, if it makes you feel less miserable. But I promise you won't keep me here. One day I will leave. And I'll never come back.

Robert, unable to answer, turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door. Grim, with a pounding heart, sat down again. His hand touched his Colt.

“I'll never be like you,” he whispered to himself, a promise etched into his soul.

He spent the rest of the night staring out the window at the stars, wondering how long it would take to finally escape the prison that was Silver Creek.