So, here he was, fifteen and living without anything even close to a family.

Now how the heck did he manage to do that?

Well, first of all, it wasn't his fault. He had apparently just been left on the stairs to a orphan's house with just a note with his own name and his fathers explanation about why he was there. That's the reason he'd never known his parents. His mom had apparently been in some kind of secret order (spooky) and died when he was just a five month old kid. And his dad had been gone before he even got born. …. Why? He had no idea. But he had been named after him. Allen Walker. And that was all he knew about his father.

His name.

Second of all, someone up there in the clouds obviously hated him. A lot. Proof? His parents was dead, he had a red and embarrassing scar in is face and his hair had no colour. No colour. All white and boring. Or the opposite, white hair at the age of 15 maybe could be categorized as interesting. But his interest in it disappeared when those mean kids at school bullied him about it. Then he tried to dye it into a different colour, but it just... wouldn't change colour. Somehow. The blackness of it just... vanished when he was about to wash the cream with the colour off... As If his hair was made of something very, very slippery or just pure ew-y. But when he, surprised way more than he ever had been, hesitantly touched his hair, it was just as smooth and silky as those lucky girls at his school. Though they probably used a lot of products on it. Some more poisonous than others. But at least those girls were, as previously said, lucky and had black hair.

But he anyway just decided it wasn't his fault and he wouldn't be depressing over it. Period.

A loud and brain piercing, yet very feminine, scream forcefully ended his thinking.

"ALLEN WALKER! Do NOT think I can not see you not working right now! Get back to it!"

Said boy winced and quickly got back to typing some stupid third-quarter-report.

Allen once again cursed his fate with some small tears slipping out from his eyes and down his cheeks. Why? Why had all this misfortune happen to him? What had he done wrong? Had he done something terrible in his past life? Since he hadn't done anything wrong in this one, yet(he had to add it, who know. He might end up stealing food to survive). So it had to be something in his previous ones. But he didn't believe in the whole... reincarnation-thing.

He didn't really believe in god either, but at least then he had someone to blame.

After five more sweaty hours of work, precisely mopping the floor and tables in this huge office, Allen stopped and wiped his forehead with a gloved hand and sighed loudly.

This whole darn day had just been a pain. From morning to right were he was now. Midnight. He hated this hour. Because he heard a frightening and very weird-sounding voice in his head trying to tell him what to do. Strange stuff like Go to a mirror.

Of course he never obeyed, and he had not looked in a mirror in ages. But it creeped him out to a point way past what Saw had when he had watched it. Alone.

Why did he have these scary voices in his head? It was something he stayed up very late at night to think about until the voice told him to rest. Then he actually obeyed. But only then, when it was about something he already had decided to do.

Allen shook his head and quickly put away his things so he could end this day and go home.

And that was exactly what he did. He almost waved to the iron-lady who had been screaming at him but decided not too. Better not risk his throat.

In the end he exited the incredibly large office where he was a slave, typing for his life, and quickly walked to his apartment just around the corner. He told himself a lot of times that he was not scared, but he never really managed to convince himself, so maybe a small part of the quick walking was because of fear.

Since it was very dark outside and he didn't know how to defend himself if anyone tried to rob him.

When he reached the old house he lived in he tried to be as soundless as he possibly could be when he unlocked the door and sneaked in. He didn't want any of the old ladies on first floor to wake up and come screaming at him. He shivered, no, he'd rather burn in hell.

He gently closed the door again when he got inside and locked it. Then he skipped up the stairs, and since he had done it quite a lot of times before he was getting quite good at doing it soundless.

When he reached his own door he sighed at the sight of it. Old 'n plain and all those other words you could describe an old lady with. But he anyway opened it and went inside, ignoring how messy it was and that the door to his refrigerator was pretty much loose and hanging on just one of its hinges, how clothes where all over the place in no order though he loved to be organized. At school - which he always went to, no matter how sick he felt - he had all his things in order. Both pencils and files.

But, in difference to school, he had no time here. He went up early in the morning to get to school and directly after it he went to work. And he didn't get home until half past eleven. If he was lucky, maybe even as early as at ten.

He did realize that he didn't get enough sleep, but hey, what choices did he have?He needed the money. And besides; he could catch up some sleep on the weekends, since he didn't have to work at those two days.

When he realized that he had been standing in the middle of his room, deep in thought, and with his door open he quickly turned around and tried not to trip on any of the objects on the floor when he closed the door with a small 'thud' and locked it.

Later, maybe at 1am, he waked up after a frightening dream about a man, almost a exact copy of himself, just older and with the voice he heard in his head, and he had been talking to him. Discussing something very important... but now he couldn't really remember what it was... Something about demons and some Milleneenum Earl... or maybe it was Mellennenum Earl... And about him getting back.

But then the guy had appeared, apparently, Allen had no clue since he didn't know him. But he recognized him.

He grabbed the covers and breathed heavily. He was shaking a bit. Something with that dream had really creeped him out. And it wasn't that he saw that the voice in his head actually belonged to someone who looked like a exact copy of himself. It was that Mellenunum-guy who had scared him beyond belief. A ridiculously large grin, glasses almost like Harry Potters and a weird but colourful hat. And he had been pretty fat too. With a large coat where the buttons looked like they would pop. All in all, it didn't look like he had been looking in any magazines for a while.

But he was radiating fury.

And that was when he woke up.

Though, now when he thinks back about it, it wasn't really that scary. Nor did anything happen to him, well, if you don't count with the chat.

Allen frowned. Who was it anyway? Who was that man who had looked so much like himself, but older?

'...Look in the mirror...'

His breath stopped dead. No. No, no, no, no. This just shouldn't be happening. First he had a really bad dream about this voice, and now it was here talking to him!

"...N...No, don't talk to me" he sounded terrified and his voice broke at several points.

'... Just look in the mirror...'

Allen sat up in his bed and wondered about what the heck he should do. Right now he was pretty tempted to just go to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

Maybe he should.

...He would. He would be brave and go check whatever it was that was so important in the mirror and then he would get back to sleep. Yes. That would do.

He gulped pretty loudly and then slowly stood up. Stepping into his slippers and straightening his slightly too big black t-shirt over his boxers and slowly walking to the bathroom door.

He opened it with a small creak-sound and then stepped onto the fluffy carpet, not looking at the mirror he knew was there in fear. But after hesitating for a bit he turned his face to look in the mirror. And saw no reflection.
He sighed with a eased heart...Right... he had turned all of the mirrors in his apartment towards the wall when the voice in his head first had told him to look into one. But it's easily fixed.

A shiver ran through him almost as a warning before he reached out to take a hold of the edges to the mirror and slowly and very gently turned it around.

And immediately gasped at what he saw.

Behind his right shoulder, the same guy that was talking to him in his dream was standing calmly.
Of course, like in all those movies, he whipped around to see if he really was standing behind him.

But no, there was no one there. So he slowly turned back to the mirror with a small blush spreading over his cheeks. He HAD embarresed himself, but lucky enough, no bullies were here. Just himself. But he stared at the mirror when he saw the man standing behind him again with a small smile and Allen just couldn't believe what his eyes saw. He looked just like himself! Only longer, more muscular, older and with a smile on his lips. Allen never smiled. Nothing was worth it.

But even though he was in deep confusion, he managed to stutter forward some questions.

"Who are you? And why are you in my head? Why are you in my mirror? Why did I have to go to one? To meet you? But who was that guy in my dream? Why do you look like me? Why did you appear in my dream?"

The man chuckled gently, almost as he had looked forward to this and was being happy about finally being able to talk to Allen. The sound made him shiver once again.

'I am Allen Walker.' He said with a smooth voice, shiver chilling down Allens spine.