Forgetting the Past

chapter one - A New Life?

 A/N: Hi there! This is my first story. I hope that you'll enjoy it, and I would appreaciate any advice on making it better.

If you feel that there's anything wierd or anything of that kind, feel free to point it out!

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblence to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

                                                                                  A NEW LIFE?

One often hopes to move on, and that was exactly what I was planning to do: move on. I didn't mind where I went as long as I was some place else, somewhere nicer.

New York.

Manhattan, Broadway, all those glittering city lights! How delighted I was to be there! A new town, no! A city! A new life too. Yes, I was ready to face anything that was waiting for me there.

It was good place, but I knew that it was going to be hard to find a job... But nothing was ever perfect, especially in life.

Why had nothing been right in my life until now? From the start, it had been despair. I had been left, not long after my birth on the front steps of an orphanage. “For the Unwanted” I used to call it; yearning for affection. When a life was finally offered to me, it had been snatched away from my grasp. Gone. Far. Into nothingness. Again, I was left alone facing the wilderness and chaos of reality. Lost, that was where I was. Lost in the world trying to, gradually, find my way through it; untangling myself from the web I laid in.

Alone, I had woken up every morning, fighting through the days, growing stronger and stronger. I had no one to confide to, and when that rare occasion took place, that person left. With a sense of abandon, I was, once more, left alone. In the end, I no longer needed anyone's affection. My call for it had lessened day after day until it was turned on mute. 'Mute' I say, because, I wasn't certain whether it was still there, somewhere, or if it had been eradicated from my need [of affection]. I comforted myself. No, 'comfort' was the wrong word, I never comforted myself, others yes, but not me. I pushed myself, convincing myself that I had nothing to lose in trying, but everything to gain, except energy. Then I asked myself whether it was worth wasting all that energy or not.

There had been ups and downs, more downs than ups though. However, I kept fighting against myself; a constant battle for a life. I believed –or forced myself to believe– that one day, I was going to appreciate all that effort and finally taste how comfort truly feels like. But now, let's forget all that, and think about the day I arrived in New York, hoping that it would be there where I would taste comfort and quietude.

The good thing was that I already had a job interview. One comfortable job. I knew it was a long shot coming here and expecting something incredible, what was one lonesome job possibility? But I didn't worry about it. For once I had an optimist feeling about it, not for the job but for the new life! Or was I too naive? that it was a mere impression I was giving myself to be reassured. Whatever it was, I didn't question it.

There I was, in that twenty-dollar room, gazing at the city lights. What was I going to do? We could hear the screaming of a woman in a neighbouring room. Of pain? or pleasure? Whatever it was none of my business. That twenty-dollar room was -I guessed like any ordinary twenty-dollar room - small, though I was used to smallness, so it fitted me just fine. The bathroom -where you couldn't take a bath- was separated from the bedroom by a thin cracking wall. In the hotel room laid a double bed sandwiched between the wall and the table-bed. The floor was plain linoleum. When I moved my feet, I could see the footprints they left in the dust. The floor wasn't the only place sprinkled with dust. I had some cleaning hours waiting for me if I chose to stay here, which was undoubtedly what was going to happen. I continued the inspection of my room: a lamp, a closet, a drawer, a table, a chair and a Bible.