Broken Pieces

Chapter One

Carson Moscow had plans. Plans that involved using his full ride that he had received for soccer. He had plans. Plans to be one of the best goalies out there and eventually make it to play on a national men's soccer team. He had plans. Being paralyzed in a car accident that took his mother's life didn't fall into that.

Now, he sat in his wheelchair, frowning down at his Storytelling professor as the new semester came to a start. It had been three years since the accident and he still hadn't gotten used to the lack of mobility in his legs. He was blessed to still have his full ride thanks to his gpa, but he had to go about changing his whole career now.

Countless ideas went through his mind though he knew each one would be harder than the next. For now though, Game Art and Animation was in his sights. He already had an interview set up for after classes at the building a block down from campus though he couldn't remember exactly which one the interview was for. He had applied to countless places blindly in search of a job so when he got a call asking what time he could go in for an interview, he jumped on the opportunity without question.

He glanced at the clock, his black painted nails tapping impatiently on the spiral notebook in front of him. Just a few more minutes and he would be free to get out of the stuffy classroom that smelled too strongly of mint gum, sharpies, and the magic markers the professor used to write on the whiteboard.

He couldn't understand the need for the markers as what was written could easily be projected onto the screen hanging above it. It didn't help that Professor Siles had exceptionally bad handwriting that was hardly legible from where Carson was seated. He regretted choosing the top corner of the classroom immediately though he liked his space seeing as no one else was seated around him. He had seen the ramp and immediately wheeled himself up it. It beat sitting at the front where he could practically feel the curious stares of his classmates in his last class. Yes. He would endure it for now.

The bell ringing made him let out a sigh of relief and he slowly placed his notebook and other needed items for the class into the small brown bag that hung over the side of his wheelchair. He took his time though, not wanting to be trampled by the swarm that was heading to the exits.

He carefully maneuvered himself through the hallways that were filled with worried students already stressing about the semester. He had been thankful enough to only have work in his Storytelling class, though he knew he most likely wouldn't be as lucky in the upcoming days. He opted against going to his apartment to drop his bag off. That would mean he would just have to take a bus there and he didn't fancy smelling body odor and risking the stench clinging to his clothes. He had dressed in a nice pale blue button up and slacks, having fully planned on heading straight to the interview once classes were over with.

His only issue?

The crowded sidewalks. He wrinkled his nose distastefully as people gave him sideways glances when he wheeled by them, knowing they were annoyed at the fact they had to move out of his way. He was glad though. He had absolutely no problem ramming into their ankles. Besides, it was only a ten minute 'walk' from campus.

When he reached the building he was supposed to be at, he frowned. It was much larger than he expected, then again, most buildings in New York were. A glance at his phone confirmed the address and without any hesitation, he rolled up to the front door.

The lack of hesitation was quickly altered though when he realized that there was no button to push for the doors to swing open automatically causing his pale lips to turn into a slight frown. That was something he had yet to get used to. In his hometown, almost every business would have one to make it easier on the elderly or people like him.

After several minutes of countless curses spewing out his mouth, he managed to ram the wheels of his chair into the door before pushing it open with as much force as he could and hastily wheeling himself inside before the doors could slam into the back of his wheelchair. More annoyance set in when he realized that there were hardly any wheelchair accommodations. Sure, at a quick glance he could tell the bathrooms were wheelchair accessible, but that's not where his annoyance was directed. The top of the front desk was clearly made for people who were able to stand and the front desk operator was nowhere in sight.

His jaw clenched as he rolled forward and stretched his hand up to reach the bell placed on the corner of the desk, his fingertips just barely brushing the side of the bell before he drew his hand back with a huff. "Excuse me?" he called out, doing his best to keep his tone polite.

A woman that had to be somewhere in her late thirties walked out from a doorway, her painted red lips pursed together in annoyance at the fact that someone had called out instead of just ringing the bell. It was there for a reason. She arched a sculpted brow at the young man and forced a polite smile on her face. "Welcome to Tiberun," she stated in a customer service voice that had Carson nearly cringing. Everything about the woman screamed that she would rather be anywhere but there. "How can I help you?"

"Er, I'm Carson Moscow. I have an interview with a Miss Collins?" he said once he had double checked the name on his phone. He was eager to leave Molly, as her name tag read, not caring for the curious look in her dark eyes as she stared down at his wheelchair.

"Twelfth floor. Turn left after you get off the elevator and it'll be the fifth door on your right," Molly stated in a monotone voice, having grown bored with the curiosity that was his chair already.

"Thanks," he mumbled, already having turned his chair to head to the elevator though so he doubted she would have heard him. He stretched his hand up to tap the up button between two elevators and waited nervously for one to open. Despite having been using elevators for the past three years, he never cared for them. Used to it wasn't a problem and he would just take the stairs, but it's not like he could do that anymore.

Within no time, he was rolling out onto the twelfth floor, his knuckles white from having gripped the wheels of his chair tightly. The stiffness went away though as soon as he popped his knuckles, a satisfying crack sounding off of them. "Fifth to the right," he mumbled under his breath as he rolled down the eerily silent hallways. He was surprised that there weren't that many rooms, then again, he figured that must be where the bosses all were.

His knuckles raised to tap the door he had been directed to when it flung open. He had to quickly push himself back to avoid tripping the clearly frazzled woman in front of him. Her salt and pepper hair was sticking out of the bun situated precariously on the top of her head and her blue eyes looked as if she hadn't slept for days with the dark bags under them.

"That's it!" the woman screeched and Carson winced from the high pitched sound. "I'm done! I can't take it anymore!" She grabbed a large purse that had fallen at her feet and marched towards the elevator in hysterics. "Run this damn company by yourself! Just wait till I tell your father of this!"

Once the woman had left, Carson hesitantly tapped the door with his knuckles. "Er, I'm sorry to interrupt. I have an interview with Miss Collins?" he called into the room, peeking inside.

A rather flustered man sat at the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose. When he looked up, Carson nearly lost his breath. Amber eyes stared at him curiously before the man pushed back his nearly jet black hair and he stood. "I'm afraid the banshee that just left was Miss Collins." His voice was a lot huskier than Carson had expected though as soon as the man pulled out a cigarette he knew why. The man stood up and walked to the door, pushing it open more for the wheelchair bound man. He gave Carson a dazzling smile, looking down at him. "I'm Raphael Jackson. CEO."