I woke up to the same cold and desolate room. The sun pierced through cheap drapes, reminding me where I was. My bed was the third from the door, out of eight beds in two columns. My body rose, as I was used to getting up early from various family routines.

Yes, I am an orphan that was abandoned since I was a baby. It’s been one week since my last family, possibly the most painful leave I had. I was adopted into the Thompson family for barely six months, before their miracle happened. The wife was finally able to conceive a child, and thus left me without a purpose in their lives. Although they apologized profusely, I knew I couldn’t keep my place in there. It was certainly better than the families that outright hated me, forced me to do chores like a cheap cleaner, or for a punching bag.

I am Allen, with no last name. My past aliases have been Thompson, Reed, Snow, and Dunbar. I was told I once had shining blonde hair that compared to an Aztec crown. I didn’t know what that meant, but surely it was a compliment. Now it’s been dulled like my mood, as I laid on the bed owned by St. Michael’s Orphanage.

Another sad day added to my fourteen years of living….

---

CHAPTER 1: THE MADMAN APPEARS

---

I sat on the porch located on the left side of the main doors. An old, ripped copy of Tuesday’s with Morri rested in my hands, as I idly watched cars roll by the street. The orphanage wasn’t a run-down shack like myth would believe, but it certainly did look like it took its toll with over thirty unwanted kids. The manager of the place was a kind old man by the name of Mr. Finkle, who I owe a debt of gratitude for saving me twice. Once for taking me in and showing kindness to me, and the second for showing up just in time before Mr. Dunbar completed a finishing strike against me. A classic drunk attack, of course.

The younger orphans were playing around with a soccer ball, until it got kicked too far in my direction. I stopped the ball to the ground, then gently kicked it back to a running Richard. He was a sweet seven-year-old youth that liked running his mouth off at elders sometimes.

“Thanks a lot, Al! Hey, you wanna play with us.” Richard asked.

I shook my head with a smile. “Not today, Rich. I want to finish this book before lunchtime.” I held up the battered book. “It’s quite interesting.”

“Nah, books are boring. Whatever, then Al. Bye!” Rich waved off before joining his other friends.

I sighed at their blissful happiness, then returned back to my book on chapter fifteen.

Suddenly, I heard a car screech coming from the same direction as Richard. I dropped my book and ran my fastest to see what happened. If anything happened to Richard…no, this orphanage and its people need all the cheerful people it can get.

I heard crying, accompanied by yelling. Did Richard get hit or…something worse. My fears accelerated my speed until I arrived at the scene. A small, white Pontiac car was parked slightly over the street. The cries I heard were not coming from Richard. They were coming from the man, and Richard was yelling at him.

What in the world?

This man, who looked to be in his late twenties, was weeping on his sleeve. A dark trench coat with a cane carried in his left hand.

Is he some kind of mobster?

“Hey, Mister!” Richard was calling out to the man. “Why you crying? You can’t be hurt, you’re in a car!”

“Bwaaaa!” The man cried out. “I’m trying to avoid catastrophes on the streets and fate throws another obstacle at me once again! Why are you so cruel, lady fate,” he called out to the sky.

“Sir,” I tried to reason with him. “Please don’t make a scene. We have enough trouble as it is.”

He wiped his tears, cleared his throat, and slammed his cane tip firmly on the ground. “Ahem, sorry about that. Anyways, I’ve come to meet Mr. Finkle. Is he available?”

I raised my eyebrow at him. Is he here as a business man? Surely he can’t be here to adopt, or if he did it would be a failed one. Even people in their late thirties couldn’t handle having a child not their own on average.

“Yes, he is here. May I ask your reason for him?”

“Ah, just a little word with him. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad” he winked at me. I felt goose-bumps all of a sudden.

---

It’s been half an hour since that man entered the building. I sat on the bench outside Mr. Finkle’s office like a school boy waiting for the principal. I heard some yells, some cheers, and laughter. When the doorknob turned, I reactively opened my book and pretended to read.

“It was a pleasure meeting you again, Roy. I bid good luck to you,” Mr. Finkle said to the man.

The strange man stepped out of the room with a big smile. “You, too Finkle old man. I’ll be sure to take care of him.”

Take care of who? Is this man actually trying to adopt someone? For sinister plans, probably. Judging by experience and his age, he’ll pick a young girl to manipulate and traumatize until the orphanage pick up the pieces after his arrest.

The world can be very evil.

However, he closed the door and glanced at me. With a bigger smile. At me. Smile. Me. Smile. ME. He winked.

Oh my god, I’m going to be that ‘girl!’

“Well, I got a few questions for you. Do you mind,” he asked with a chuckle.

Yes I mind, you evil man! What do you plan to do with me!

“I don’t mind,” I said out-loud. It’s more rationale to figure out his whole plan first.

“What’s your name?”

“Allen.”

“Hmm, your age?”

“Fourteen.” Where is this heading to?”

“Know anything about your pre-orphanage days?”

“No,” I answered with a hint of sadness betrayed in my tone. “I was a baby when I came here.”

He winced a bit. “Ooh, sorry about that. One last question.”

His face came very close to me with a stern look, his voice lowered to barely a growl.

“Are you gay?”

I gulped. He’s this kind of man!

“No. I’m definitely not.”

He pulled back with an exasperated sigh.

“How boring. Oh well. Looks like I’m supposed to be happy about that as a father, I suppose.”

“I guess.”

Wait, what just happened. FATHER! My face must’ve twisted in horror by reaction.

His face turned cheery. “Ah, yeah that’s right. I’m your new dad, Roy Turner. Nice to meet you…son.” He offered his hand for a greeting.

I carefully shook his hand, wondering what happened and if I was just sold to a mad man.

“Are you sure you’re not gay.”

“Positive.”

“Maybe bi-sexual?”

“No.”

He sighed again. “Soooo boring.”

Yes. He’s a mad man.