Sunshine

You'll Never Know Dear, How Much I Love You

Alexander panted heavily, holding his stomach. A sudden force banged onto him once again, causing the young man to fall down to the dirty streets of New York. He shivered when another gust of cold air came, the blood dripping down his face becoming chill.

"Stay out of my fucking way." He heard them say. Alex still gripped his stomach, shaking violently from the beating he was just given from the man. He tried standing up, but immediately fell back down. A groan of pain erupted from him. He knew he needed to call out for help. For anyone to just come along and clean his wounds, to pick him back up on his feet.

"Hello?" A faint voice was heard down the alley. It was small but still piercing. Alexander tried to say something, but a cough came up instead. "Hello? Is someone, oh my God." He felt a hand on his shoulder, he tried to open his eyes, trying to see the one who might be able to save him. "It's okay, it's okay, Jesus Christ I know a guy. You'll be okay I promise." His puffy eyes could only make out a small figure of what the man had looked like. But soon his vision began to have black holes, until everything suddenly just went black.

A few days later Alexander found himself in a cabin. A small cabin in fact. He tried getting up but the shoot of pain from his stomach restricted him.

"What the hell are we gonna do with him?" He heard voices in the kitchen.

"Can we keep him?"

"He's not a fucking dog John."

"Come on mon ami we can't possibly just keep someone here."

"And it's been what three days and he hasn't woken up yet."

"But he still has a pulse! Which means he's still alive! We're not throwing him out like all the other people!" He recognized that voice. That was the voice who said everything was going to be okay. John, that's what his name was if Alex was listening correctly. John.

"Yes we can! We can get rid of bodies easily Laurens."

"Hercules listen to me! He has no where to go! Why was he just randomly out on the streets with no keys, no form of id? Not even a wallet! Who doesn't have a wallet!" The voices came a little closer now.

"Even more of a reason to get rid of him!"

"We're not fucking killing him like he's a clients victim!" Finally he saw three men come out. The man yelling had light skin, freckles covering most of his body. His hair wrapped up into a ponytail.

"Maybe if he doesn't wake up in a week, we should,"

"We are not-!" John paused seeing Alex's eyes opened for the first time. The freckled man went to him instantly, worry going through his face. "Hey hey you're safe I promise. Do you remember me?" Alex nodded. "You were really beat up there, I'm glad I found you when I did." He chuckled a little. "What's your name?" With the little amount of strength he still had left, he told his name.

"Alexander Hamilton."

And with that started up a string of courses that led Alex to talking with the three men about money. He lived in the cabin with the three men once he explained that he had been thrown out into the streets after immigrating here from the Caribbean. Over the months he cleaned the house, making sure everything was spot on, a repayment for taking care of him but soon Alex longed for something. To work, to be out there and make a name for himself. Maybe that's why he was here in the kitchen with them. The men had sat down with him at the dining room table where he had prepared food. He calmed down, reviewing his speech again and again.

"Something wrong Alex?" Hercules asked taking a sip out of his glass of water.

"What do you guys do all day?" He heard a piece of pasta get stuck in Lafayette's throat as he coughed, clearly surprised at the question asked.