A Victim Of My Own Creation

CHAP 5- Whatever You Say Bob...

Aiden just looked completely at a loss for words then, finally he spoke up, "Wow! You're right. I would've never guess that that happened to you this morning. I don't mean to sound like a horrible person, but Blade sounds like an ass."

"Sometimes he really is, but he's a nice person despite his little anger problems." I tried to make him understand that Blade was truly a good person.

I turned to Aiden to see him absorbed in laughter. "What's so funny?" I was starting to get a little angry. How could he be laughing at something like this?!

"D-D-D-id- - tha-a-t dude r-r-rea-l-lly throw a d-u-uck at y-your face?" he managed to choke out in between his laughs.

"Yes he did. Now stop laughing!" I pouted.

"Okay Okay. I'm Sorry." He wiped away a few stray tears that managed to slip out as a result of laughing so hard.

There was silence between for a long while before I asked, "If you don't mind me asking, how'd you end up on the streets?"

"My both parents died about three years ago when I was sixteen. I don't really have any family and I didn't want to end up in foster care at the time. I guess you could say I sort of ran away, but I had nowhere to go so I just turned to the streets. At least no one would be able to control me. At the time my parents died I was in a gang and I turned to them for support. For a while they helped me out but then I became a burden to them so I had to leave and I've been on the streets ever since." He sounded so sad that I had to make an effort to stop myself from reaching out and hugging him.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your parents, but if it makes you feel any better my both parents died too. They died in a car crash two years ago. Though my mother's body was never found, the investigators said that there was no possible way she could've survived the crash so we all assume she's dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry about your parents as well. I'm sure they were good people." He replied solemnly.

"Thanks. So, do you wanna be my new friend?" I was anxious to hear his reply.

"W-What?W-W-Why?" He looked utterly dumbfounded.

"Well I've always wanted a friend who's a hobo since my parents wouldn't let me be one. I could be one now if I wanted but that would mean leaving my brother all alone to take care of himself and the house. He would probably set the entire house on fire as soon as I left by just boiling an egg." I stated, laughing at my own joke, "Soooooooo do you want to be my friend or not?" I repeated.

"I-I'm not sure. I just met you. I don't even know you. How do I know that you're not in some sort of human trafficking business where you befriend people, gain their trust and then ship them off to some deserted island so other rich people can buy them?"

I gave my best puppy-dog face, looking up at him with big pleading eyes, "Pwetty pwetty pwease, with a chewwy on top?"

Eventually he caved in. "Alright, fine! I'll be your friend even though you scare me a bit. Actually you scare me a lot."

"Is that something that you should say to your new friend?" I scolded, faking a look of hurt.

"Hey I'm not trying to be offensive or anything. I'm just stating the truth. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. What is it?" I asked. I was excited that I just made a new friend who's a hobo.

"Why would you want to become a hobo?"

"Because they live care-free lives with nothing to worry about. You don't have to fuss about going to school and getting good grades and constantly being yelled at by teachers who seem to have a never-ending supply of homework in their back-pockets."