Lost Boys [Part 1]

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The warmth of the fire was the only thing that gave me the feeling of home during the nighttime hours of the winter. Usually, for dinner, I had some rations left over from the last time I went searching for food. And, of course, being in the city, the thousands of dumpsters located in between the tall towers and businesses always had something in them. But today? Nothing.

My parents were killed in a car crash when I was 12, which was two years ago. So naturally, I'd be placed into an orphanage, right?

But there was only one orphanage in the whole city, which was overcrowded, old, outdated, and run by old people who don't care much for the kids. They just make sure they get food everyday, and give them a bed to sleep in. And we all slept in the same room. I'm pretty sure that place was converted from a former senior center.

All of the kids were of different ages, most of them non-showered and have been there for years. And even though I arrived at the place with a bag full of my books, electronics, and clean clothes, I still ended up dirty like the other kids. And the reason was because there was only one bathroom. And it was shared between all of the kids. It smelled of mildew and mold, and the one of the lightbulbs always flickered.

Being in a place like that was traumatizing. So I decided to run, because in my mind, anything was better than being there. I thought that maybe I could sell my devices for money, and live on my own. Pretty dumb move, if you ask me, in retrospect. At the orphanage, at least I had food, and a roof over my head. And now, I don't have anywhere or anyone to go to. At least, no family that I know of. And no friends to go to either. And even though I did end up getting some money by selling my iPad and phone, it still wasn't enough for a few months. But that's alright. I don't need anyone anyway. I'll manage just fine on my own. At least, I hope so.

Well, whatever. Nothing I can do now but keep going.

The cold weather pounded against my skin, the freezing temperatures chilling my fingertips and nose. The small fire in front of me was dying off. My stomach growled, unbearable hunger buzzing throughout my body. I had to eat something.

Grudgingly, I got up, my arms crossed, attempting to shield myself from the icy winds. I dragged my worn-out, ratty tennis shoes across the ground, coming out of the gloomy backstreets, and onto the main sidewalk, where herds of people would rush back and forth, searching for shelter from the frigid breeze. They were all bundled up in their button-down coats, some with bright beanies, heavy boots, and wool scarves. They all seemed as if they were in a rush, pushing their way through crowds, maneuvering their way around each other.

"Hey, watch it, kiddo!" a man with greasy hair and a brown turtleneck and black suit jacket grumbled irritably, though he was the one who bumped into me. But, of course, what should I expect from him, actual manners? I've experienced plenty of people who have run into me or knocked my shoulder, and never said a word about it. They just kept on going, ignoring me, sometimes even giving me a dirty look.

"Goh? Is that you?" A girl's snotty voice rung out next to me. I paused in my steps, taking the second to look at the person who knew who I was.

It was a girl in the Vermilion City School District uniform; a blue and white dress, with gold lining. Her light brown hair, almost blonde, was in tight curls, and she carried a small black hand bag and wore shiny white heels with little gold bows. She was with a group of other girls and boys from the same school, all wearing the same uniforms.

"Look at you! You're... well..." she started to say. "...filthy. What happened to you?"

"Dude, I didn't think that just because you don't have parents means you'd stop having public decency!" A boy said behind her, glaring at me. "I mean, you're a walking health hazard!"

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