"That'll be fifteen pounds," a young man said, looking to be about sixteen or so. The young male worked at a convenience store in Britain, manning the cash register as he stood there patiently with a neutral expression.
The older man in front of him looked a bit angered. "Are you kidding me? That's two pounds more than yesterday! You copping me out on this shit!?"
"Look, I understand your frustration, sir, but all our items are quite low at the moment. So naturally we have to—"
"Bah! Keep the damn beer," he snapped, stuffing his money back into his pocket. "I'll go elsewhere that can offer me a more reasonable price than this shitty place."
The black-haired teen watched the man storm out the double glass doors. The slight chime to the bell as he pushed the doors, fuming with fury as he stormed out into his car before driving off. He soon sighed and brushed a hand down his face.
A couple of hours had gone by and the boy could be seen restocking the chilled drinks section. A small palette of sodas, juices, and liquors were at his side. Down on both of his knees, crunched over as he would reach over and grab a six pack of sodas, he would gently maneuver them over to their place in the fridge. Rinse and repeat, he would reach over to grab another pack of sodas.
However, just as he reached over, unbeknownst to him, his hand suddenly illuminated and a plume of smoke erupted. Letting out a surprised yell, he was blown back, carbonated liquid spraying onto him as he slid across the floor and slammed into a shelf behind him. The items on the shelf tumble onto him, the teenager being buried under bags of crisps, bags of jerky, and other containers of snacks.
The boy groaned, raising himself up as the items that toppled onto him fell onto the floor. Gazing at the sight in front of him. Burnt plastic, spilled liquid of the contents contained in the bottles, and some subtle smoke had arisen.
He sighed. "God dammit..."
---
A middle aged man sat in a seat behind a desk and a monitor was fuming. "That's the sixth palette this week! How many times are you going to be destroying all the merchandise!? I mean, what's the point of having a convenience store open if we've got nothing to fucking sell!?"
"Boss, it was a complete accident," the boy spoke up with a sincere tone, apologizing. "Next time, it won't happen again."
"There won't be a next time." The man had let out a deep sigh.
"...I... I'm sorry...?"
"Get out of here, kid. You're fired," he spoke abruptly.
"W-What? Come on, reconsider—'
"Get the hell out of my store before I call the fucking bobbies."
The young teenager looked at him with wide eyes. Sighing in standing up from his seat, he did a stiff, but brief bow.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity you've given me for working here."
The man waves him off, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get the fuck out of here already."
---
Unlocking the door to his apartment, he pushes the door open, albeit a little roughly. Slamming it shut behind him, he tosses his bag to the side and sits on his bed, resting both of his hands onto his face as he lets out a deep sigh.
With what seemed like a quick burst of anger, he shot up from his spot and began to violently run his hand and arms across his desk and toss things to the ground. That was the seventh job he had and ended up losing. Now calming down, his heavy breathing slowly coming to more, slowed and steady, he let out another deep sigh as he sat back down onto his bed. He would rarely let out an outburst of anger or fury like that. Though, through the crevices of his fingers, he spots a cracked photo that was lying on the ground. Reaching over, he picked it up and examined it.
A simple photo, it was. Containing a much younger version of him, his mother, his father, and two younger siblings. He brushed his thumb across the cracked frame and glass, removing a little bit of it in the process.
Ever since that day, he had always been alone. Left to fend for himself. And even to this day, he wasn't sure what happened... What happened to his parents. All he remembers was loud noises, the ringing noise in his ears as he slowly came to, the crackling of flames that would soon be heard after his vision and hearing began to adjust. Ash, soot, and dust was everywhere. His eyes would soon gloss over to the horrifying sight, something ingrained into his memory. No matter how much he wished for it to disappear, it will always remain. That burnt sight of his parents and younger siblings, their skeletons burnt to a char, hands reaching out for him.
Tears couldn't help but begin to stream out of his eyes, feeling the wet liquid streak down his cheeks as he continued to gaze at the photo. He was so focused on it that he had blocked the noises coming from his front door, the heavy banging of someone repeatedly slamming their fist on it.
Everything then turned to black.
[0.0] | Not So Humble Beginnings
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FanfictionAlphonse Euclidus has known nothing but despair in his life. Born to a family, along with two younger siblings, all of that were mysteriously taken away from him, he began to scrounge away on the streets of Britain, trying to get by in life and surv...