Lost, (A Short Story)

Breakout

     This story slight resembles the plot of Harry Potter. However if you read on, you will see that they are two seperate plots. It will soon be revealed that Nicholas and Harry are nothing alike. I was not trying to imitate Harry Potter in any way, but it was one of those that just happened without me noticing. Also, if you don't like abusive stories. This might not be something you'd want to read.

I hope you like the story :)

And if that rare occoasion happens where you actually like it. Feel free to vote, and comment. It would honestly be awesome :)   

        Nicholas Raymond lay on his bed in his eight-by-eight foot room that was provided by his relatives. He was beginning to wonder what exactly the meaning of life was. Was he meant to slave away, working for his relatives forever? He shook his head and his wavy black hair covered his eyes. He looked up at the white ceiling, wondering why his parents abandoned him at an orphanage.

     “Maybe they didn’t love me,” he said and felt tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

     It was all too likely; there were really no other reasons for them to leave him other than that. His adoptive parents weren’t any better. They began to treat him like a slave as soon as he learned to walk. He would sweep the floor, clean the bathrooms, and wipe the mirrors. They kept him out of sight when they had their friends over so he wouldn’t embarrass them.

     The white door in the corner of his room jerked and the knob turned. It clicked as the lock released. His aunt came in and he recognized her key features. Her chubby cheeks were red from laughing at a comedy TV show in the room next to his. Her long nose protruded an inch over her upper lip and her dark brown eyes forever held a look of disgust towards him. She held a black leather belt in her hand.

    "I didn’t ask you to adopt me," he thought.

     There were so many better things he could have been doing with the last fourteen years of his life. If he had his way, he would be living with one of his close friends by now.

     His aunt stepped into his room, stomping to get his attention. Her brown curls bounced in sync with her plus sized figure.

     “Go make us breakfast and clean the kitchen when you’re done. Don’t take too long,” she said. “We have plans today for Ronny’s birthday.” She walked over to him, holding the belt over her shoulder.

        "Okay," he said as he sat up.

        "Too slow!" she shouted, bringing the belt down on Nicholas's bare back.

        He pressed his hands onto the bed, clenching the sheets between his fingertips. He bit his lower lip as he tried to cope with the pain that accompanied each hit. His eyes rolled back, showing the whites of his eyes.

        "It better be done in less than an hour!" she demanded, slamming the door behind her as she left the room.

        Nicholas collapsed on the bed, gasping for breath. He waited for the unbearable pain to subside. His back felt like it was on fire. "It would feel better soon," he thought as he tried to ignore the pain.

    

Ronny. Nicholas was so sick of that name. He felt like it was said twenty four hours, seven days a week. Of course, he had another brother and a sister. Ronny was the youngest of the three and the shortest, most annoying twerp God had ever made. Nicholas looked up to the heavens, his purple eyes pleading with the invisible man that was supposedly everywhere.