Call Me When the World Ends.

Chapter 1: Pilot

ah, New York. The place for coffee-lovinginstagrammers or rich-youn-adults-who-wear-80s-fashion-just-so-they-seem-unique. I dwell in my own little cage, apartment sixty-six on Camill Street, Scarsdale. Sure I myself drink coffee and occassionally wear baggy clothes, but I'm no public tryhard. This isnt Hollywood, the average people here all look and seem the same from one another.

I haven't gotten to my name yet; my name is Akira and I'm still stuck in Pellace High School but I'm also a free orphan. The first things that comes into your mind is probably how does one become a "free orphan". Well, I'll give you a bit of abackstory.

Just a couple years back, my mother was workinfull-time,mtrying to pay for the usual school fees and family meals. She worked at a Petrol Statio counter and didn't go to college, and that's when she met my former step-dad, Jerry Luis. They dated for a couple months and quickly decided to get married, mum was desperate and Jerry needed somethin to do and take care of. After that Jerry was pretty kind towards me, he drove me to school and made me bacon & eggs for breakfast, but he was nothing close to me. Mum was always working and never got around to talk to me much, except about school things that I always lied about. It wasn't until my mum started to act unusual, shbecame depressed, yes, but she started to hide things and lie to everyone. And then the jigsaw puzzle pieces began to fit together, she was sick, really sick. After a couple months she was sent to a local hospital full of amateur nurses. I always came by to see her on my way from school to home after school, but the more I saw her, the more it got worse for me to manage. She eventually died a slow death with Jerry and I in the hospital room with h, we had our fair sob but both knew there was nothing that could've been done. It was cancer, she had. After that, Jerry just didn't talk to me, he also didn't attend work, he didn't have the money to pay bills, and he had depression. Anyone would've felt the same as he did, but a couple days after her death, I found his dead body lying on the wooden floor, full of river-flowing blood dripping from the ceiling. He shot himself, no suicide note. I was sad and I saw it coming, I just figured it wasn't so soon. It took me a couple days to mentally manage myself, a lot happened in such a short time, but I knew what I needed to do. I packed my bag lightly,just with a new phone, pairs of casual clothes, cash and of cours, my orange toothbrush. I hopped out my bedroom window and ran away from home, I never had a reason to take a look back. And that's when I moved to New York, as Quinton Brooks, but people just came up wi Quinn.

So, I didn't leave any clues showing that I'm an orphan, I someh managed to convince people I had well & alive parents without any proof. I bought an easy apartment as my job is at a local cafe, I saved up for two years. After a couple pots with cute plants around the space and some IKEA furniture, I made it look pretty good. I'm on floor nine, so I'm pretty high up. And you can alrea guess my new alias is the same old New Yorker, I try my best not to stand out in the crowd.

I hear an uncomfortable knock on the door, my eyes sharply turn to the entrance as I slowly get out of bed and sigh. My arms stretch widely as I give out a rather huge yawn, I blink a couple times as well. I notice I'm still in my pajamas but it's probably one of my friendly neighbours popping in to attempt to be social, they do this most days mmmof the week, which means they really must be that depressed and needy to talk to someone like me. I open the door softly and see a woman dressed in a black, business dress. She raises her eyebrow at me and notices how young I am.

'Are you Quinton? Quinton Brooks?' She asks, firmly.

'Who's asking?' I smile, copying her tone. She raises her glasses and stares at me carefully.

'Leslie Richard. I'm from the Scarsdale Foster Care Department.' She replies, formerly.

Oh crap, did it really have to be today?