Cliche {rewritten}

Chapter One

I wrote Cliche a while back and recently decided to rewrite it. I'm going to make it more historically accurate and just..better in general considering that original is beyond cringe worthy.

You don't have to have read the original to read this and I highly suggest you don't read the original..
it's just..bad.

This story will still have a warning of;
-Mentions Of Abuse
-PTSD
-Anxiety
-Depression

Here we go!..
Again.

~•~•~•~•~
Alexander sat in the car, fiddling with his bracelet. He decided not to look out the window. He was somewhat afraid of what he might see though he'd been living in New York for quite some time now. It didn't make too much sense when he thought about it, but Alex decided not to dwell on that.

He felt the anxiety rise in his chest as the car started to slow, and fell to a stop. Alex furrowed his eyebrows and angrily wishing he'd been legally emancipated or something of that sort. His father was still alive and Alex did make occasional contact with him, but he still didn't live with his father after social services had been called. His father and him had been separated, but he wasn't emancipated..technically.

Hamilton tried to convince himself that his father had just forgotten that he had locked him outside. And had just forgotten to feed him because he was so indulged in work.

But deep down, Alex knew his father had done everything on purpose. He'd never admit that though. That would forever stay in the back of his mind.

He wasn't sure which was worse his father forgetting about him (also known as child neglect) or his father purposely toying with his mind- and body considering Alex hadn't eaten in days after his father locked him outside.

"We're here," The social worker, also know as Mrs.K hummed, opening her car door.

Alex gave a short nod, not knowing wether or not Mrs.K had seen it.
So he panicked slightly and said,
"Yeah. Yeah I uh..I know." He cringed, thinking he made it worse.

Alex got out of the car, closing the car door and reopening the car door behind it, to get his bag. He tossed the bag over his should, closing the car door. Mrs.K and Alex walked to the door, and she pat Hamilton's shoulder, whispering, "This is the one Alex. I really think so."

Alex held back an eye roll. She said that every time, and every time Alex had ended up as either an ash tray, a punching bag, or a way to get money. He had been in two foster homes that only fostered him because of the 5,000 dollars they get at the beginning so they could support a kid. Those foster homes didn't use the money to support Alex. It was used on cigarettes, drugs and other things Hamilton didn't even want to know about.

He sighed, nervously fiddling with the bracelet, and chewing on his bottom lip. Alex did recall staying with the Stevens for quite some time after his mother had passed but it was short lived as his father quickly noticed his absence, and managed to rope him back into his house.

Hamilton had doubts that the man he called his father, was even his father at all but he didn't really have the motivation to look into it. Mrs.K rang the door bell and Alex continued to stare at his feet, wondering if it was over yet and he'd finally get to go home.

Hamilton knew he didn't have a home. That this house in front of him was his new home. But it wasn't home. It was just another stop before his social worker was back and he was being sent to another house.

The door open and Alex looked up on instinct, keeping his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Good evening! Hello Katherine," Mulligan said, taking Katherine's, or Mrs.K's hand and shaking it.