New York City. The city that never sleeps. Many, many tourists wondering around in awe, staring up at the towers and taking in the beautiful sites. And the people that live there were just chatting in the streets, giving tourists directions and doing everyday activities.

But of course, not everyone was lucky. You would possibly get beggars on the streets, too. But no one would take any notice, even if they were children. As a result, crime was farley common. And sadly, half of those beggars would be orphans.

Orphans weren't just from the past, you know, they would still wonder the busy streets. Some would have run away from home, a care home maybe. Or maybe abandoned. And that was the case for one boy. A boy got abandoned one night because his single parent couldn't take care of him. She had no money so she was struggling to take care of herself, let alone her son.

One night in the crowded streets strolled a red haired boy. He looked normal. Wearing jeans, t-shirt and trainers. His face was clean, his skin pale but others wise healthy looking. But his eyes were sad, lonely. This boy was Oliver.

He tried to avoid the crowds, but they didn't bother avoiding him.

"Move out of the way." a business man snarled as he barged past.

"Sorry." Oliver muttered, even though the man wouldn't have heard him. People just pushed him around like he was nothing, like he didn't exist. And every time it happened, Oliver would apologize.

The boy then turned a corner and into an alley, but that was a mistake. There hovered a gang, probably the age of seventeen to eighteen, all men and wearing leather. Not good. Oliver ran off before the could see him, turning down another alley. This one was abandoned, lucky for Oliver. He took cover behind some old boxes, keeping hidden from anyone who might take a stroll along the path. And then, minutes after getting settle, he drifted off to a uncomfortable sleep.