I laid on the cold, damp floor. The sun was rising, the light creeping into the lids of my eyes. Slowly, my eyes opened, and I began to get up. My body ached, but I managed to get up onto my feet. I looked around.

The environment was normal; a typical Autumn day, including the bright orange, red, and brown leaves. The trees were almost bare; just a few leaves clung on. Wind blew, and it ran through my hair.

But something was uncontrollably wrong.

It was my memories.


I thought, I thought hard. I wondered, I felt confused.

Flames erupting around me. Screams, and frantic yelling.

My house was on fire.

Three men ran through the house with guns, AK-47s to be exact. They yelled, and they shot.
They killed.
Everyone.
But me.
They put the weight on me. They left me alive. They tortured me from the inside.

Then, I woke. I woke from a flashback. No, a nightmare. A horror.

My heart, pounding. I could hear blood rushing in my ears. My eyes began to water.
My family is gone. I have nowhere to go.

But I still stood on my feet, and I looked up to the sky.
Maybe, maybe now I can start my independent life. One I choose.

I looked to the ground, and ashes laid on the burnt grass. I looked behind me to find a darkened floor. It was where my house once stood.

No one there. No one to help me. No one to support me. No one. None.

I felt lonely.

Into my ears, was the chirping of birds. The sun was rising, and it was morning. I din't know where I was going, but began to head off in a random direction.
I soon met a city; NYC. People around me. Running, walking, rushing. Taxis flooded the road with people moving in a frenzy. It was a noisy and populated place. But I was alone.
I walked through the streets, and I looked around corners. I looked at buildings, and I looked at people. I walked around, and around. I didn't know what to do.
I approached an orphanage.
I guess thats the only place I can go now.

I began walking towards the building. A marble floor. A revolving door. Well lit with a chandelier. It appeared to be high class; very similar to a 5 star hotel.
A woman was at the desk. She stood there, her dark brown hair resting on her shoulders as she chatted on the phone. She ended when I began to walk toward the desk.

"Hello young man. How may I help you today?" She asked in a kind, soft voice.
I was quickly drawn to her, and became fond. I didn't feel a hint of shyness when I began speaking.
"I guess... I could say I'm an orphan." I said, truly unsure about what to say.
"What do you mean? And why are you here alone? Where is your guardian?"
"Long story short, my, m-my family, i-is dead." I said, as my eyes started to water, tears slowly rolling down my face and dropping lightly onto the ground.
The woman acted fast, and she took tissues from a drawer from the desk. She handed me some tissues.
"Come with me. I'll take you somewhere where we can discuss this matter without any interruptions."
I nodded, still looking at the floor with tissues held up to my face. She led me to a room. An office. A man sat behind a large desk. A name plate sat in front of a black pen holder.
The plate read 'Ledrick Dafid' with the words 'Head of NYC Orphanage'.

I guess I'll talk to him.

"Alright. You can sit down right there." He said as he pointed to a black chair, the ones you usually find at a principals' office.
I sat down, and we began our conversation. I explained how my house was burnt down, my family getting killed my the mass murderers, and how I ended up at the orphanage. He understood my feelings perfectly, and made me feel at home; someone I was lacking.

After the long conversation, which took three hours, we finally ended up with him handing me a contract.
"This is so that we can hold responsibility for you." He said.
I looked the paper over, and finally decided to sign. I wrote my name on the line as well as the date at the bottom. He took a look at the page as I handed it back.

"Takasu Yasu, welcome." He took out his hand. We had a hand shake.

After their handshake, the man led me to a room. Full of young children. That were noisy. I looked around the white room and saw it kinda looked like a classroom, but without the chairs, and desks.

He clapped his hand and the children quieted down.
"Hello boys and girls. We have a new person at our orphanage." The man said. "Please follow Ms. Mickel."
The woman, who apparently was called Ms. Mickel, began to gather up the children and got them in a pretty strait line; or at lease for a group of kids who seemed to be four to five year old. Some licked their hands, and some jumped around. A little girl sat in the corner, her hands crossed, and her nose red. She sobbed loudly, and and screamed "I want my mommy and daddy!" In a desperate voice. I felt heartbroken when I saw her, unable to speak, as it felt like my heart was stuck in my throat. I wanted to help very badly, but I didn't know how. Then Ms. Mickel walked over to her.

Ms. Mickel acted calmly, keeping her cool. She gently talked to her and managed to get her up.
Mr. Dafid handed Ms. Mickel tissues from his pocket, and wispered into my ear. "She is new. She came three days ago, when her mother and fatehr were unable to care for her do to their health problems. She didn't have anywhere to go."
I nodded, looking at the little girl. She slowly got up from the matted floor, dusted off her hands, and began to take stedy steps towards the line of children. Ms. Mickel began to lead them off.

Mr. Dafid led me to a new room, and I could feel the atmosphere change. Kids, all looking like they were in the age range of 8-13, populated the quite large, room. It had a hardwood floor, some computers, chairs, and books. The TV in the background played a commercial loudly.
I guess this is where I belong.
Teens were listening to their IPods, and a group of kids were gathered by the TV.

I took a while for Mr. Dafid to get them to quite down, but when they did, they stared at me.

This was the first time I felt nervous in a while. Some looked at me awkwardly, and some whispered to each other.
Oh man, they already started to judge me.
I adjusted my glasses, and blinked. I put my hand on my neck, and felt sweat running down my back. The TV was then turned off, making a quick sizz sound.
"Please, everyone, follow me into the main room."

The kids and teen gathered into a group, and we left the nicely lit room.
I then stepped foot in a room, a long, vast room, the size of an average cafeteria. At the end of the room was a stage, about 4 feet high. The tiled floor reflected the bright, white lights.

Mr. Dafid led me up the stage, and handed me a microphone.
Oh, come on. Everyone should know I have stage fright...

Mr. Dafid simply asked me to introduce myself. And so I did.

I slowly walked to the edge of the wood stage, and looked down.
Eyes stared. People whispered. Children poked each other.

And then I started to talk.

"Well, I'm kinda new here, so yeah."
My voice echoed.

"I'm like 12, and my name is Takasu Yasu. I am a top student of my school, but its summer. So yeah. Well, I-I came here b-because m-my..."
I stopped short.

I swallowed, and found my voice again.
"My, my family was killed."

Then the phone to the right sized of the huge room rang. Mr. Dafid rushed over, and everyone in the room began to chat. Mr. Dafid raised up his hand and people began to quite down once again. He talked, and when he was finished, he walked over to me.

He again whispered into my ear, and this time I was put in pure shock.
The police had just called and had investigated my family's case.

They told us that it was a group of terrorists who killed my family and ruined most of my life.
I was in shock, and I was angry, but I put I had to the side. I pushed it to the back of my mind. I had an introduction, and I had to finish it. I have to learn about my future.
I need to know what life I have in front of me.

And so I began once again.
And when I finished, I was guided to the 8-13 age group room.
And the judgments began.

Kids began to say I'm a nerd, because of my glasses, and me being at the top of my school class.
Wait, what school do I go to now?

Anyways, kids also said I looked kinda cool, and some began to ask questions.
"How did your family die?"
"What do you like?"
"Do you play Minecraft?"

The freaking out.