Shattered.

Broken.

Destroyed.

Words like these are so familiar to Mikey because he's always used them to describe the pain in his heart . He doesn't know the meaning of words like..

Happiness.

Laughter.

Fun.

He hates moving from place to place because it means more good byes and less hellos. His only friend is his second personality, Michel.

Michel is the side of him that is bubbly, fun and free. Usually very honest. He sees the bright side of things when Mikey cant . You have to when you're moved from foster home to foster home because you're a male prostitute. Truthfully, it's not completely his fault. He's been doing it since he was ten and now at the age of sixteen , he depends on it to stay alive.

Though color blind, he learned how to count money by counting his mother's tips she made at a nearby Gentleman's club. His mother (the careless mother she was) didn't send him to school neither did the past orphanages he went to. He's basically illiterate. Counting tips somehow is saving his life.

As a child, he didn't say much to anyone. You could ask him how to spell his favorite color and he'd say..

"I don't know any other color but gray. I cant spell it though".

New York City is where he lives and the streets is where he works. Sixteen years old and he's seen it all from murder to natural causes of death. He even saw a male client beat his mother because she wouldn't serve him after her hours were up.

He's still upset because she let a man rape him and she didn't do anything but watched it all happen before her very own eyes. Ever since then he rarely trust anybody. You're lucky if he even acknowledges your presence without a sarcastic or rude comment. The other male orphans pay him for a quick service sometimes and then get too attached to him. New arrivals look up to him because of his emotionless actions. They don't even know what he's been through to make it past where he's from. They don't even know his story. They just don't understand. They just don't.

(Mikey's POV) (5 pm)

"Michelangelo! Get up!"

no.

"Michelangelo!"

I sat up in my bed and slid on a clean shirt. Ms. Samuel's (orphanage director) walks in with a piece of paper in her hands. "A police officer downstairs would like to ask you some questions" she says with a sigh. "Also, Mr. Martinez at the grocery store needs shelf restorer and I thought you might be interested" she says before handing me the paper then leaving the room.

I started brushing my teeth in the bathroom and washed my face when I heard someone small knock on my bedroom door. "Mikey, tie shoesies pwease" the voice whines. I groan to myself and sit on the floor in front of the little angel part crybaby we call Little Ben.

I sat down on the floor and put him in my lap so he could watch me tie his shoes for 85th time this year. Once I'm all done, he hugs me tight. "Tank you" he chirps before going downstairs in front of me. "Michelangelo Ramirez"

I cross my eyes in annoyance before turning to the very familiar police officer that drags me out of my room just to torture me. "What do you want, Casey?" I groan as he pretends to escort me outside like a criminal. "I know you're upset with m but I wanted to take ya out for ya birthday" he says with his hands up in defense. I blink long and hard for a second. "My birthday? Casey, that was two damn days ago" I say as my hair blows in the wind a bit. "I couldn't get off those two days plus I had to get my brother settled back in my apartment" he whines.

I sigh in defeat. "Fine but if you get me drunk again, I'll choke you til your eyes pop out their sockets" I warn. "I wont get ya drunk. That was Carlos anyway" he sighs. "When are you coming to get me?" I ask. "9:30. I get off early today" he says before adjusting his hat. "Where are we going anyway?" I ask as we walk down the main street. "Coffee shop" he chirps with a smile.

"Oh... are we gettin donuts too?" I ask with a smirk.

"That's a stereotype and ya know it" he huffs. "Sure it is, Case. Sure it is" I say with an eye roll. "I can tape ya kid" he warns. "Casey Jones, I dare you" I growl. He smirks. "I know ya missed me" he chuckles with his arm around my shoulders. I face palm and whack him in the head with a newspaper. "Ow" he whines. "Bad creepy perverted policeman" I taunt. "I think I have a bruise" he groans. "I think we should trade hair colors" I say with a disgusted face as he cleans his ear with his pinky. "Why? Cause you're blonde and I'm brunette?" he asks before eyeing the muffin counter and picking a blueberry one.

I just nod and smile as I sit at a nearby table. A dark-skinned man walks over to me and taps me on my shoulder. "Hello beautiful" he purrs with a seductive smile. "Um... hi" I mumble before awkwardly heading over to Casey. "Please wait. I met up with you last month in Central Park for your ... services" he purrs dragging out his brazilian accent.

"Xever?" I ask in shock. "Yes. I'm in need of your help once again" he nods. He slid a piece of paper into my front pocket and winks. "What are you doing at 5:30?" I ask while chewing on my bottom lip. He smirks and pinches one of my nipples just to see me bite my lip harder. He always teases me like this. He's one of my best costumers but not nearly as wealthy as Chris.

"Just give me a place to meet you and I'll be there" he says while pulling me close. "Your car" I gasp out as his lower region bumps mine. "Mike, I'll see ya later" Casey calls as he heads out the door with another officer in the force. "So, where's your car?" I ask as I focus back on Xever's face. He smiles lustful and drags me outside to his car for a quick blowjob.

Well at least that's how it starts out as.

Casey's POV

"Casey, Do I hafta come with ya?" my little redhead brother asks. "Yep. Ya need to get out more and make some friends" I chuckle out as we pull up to our destination. "I don't want a damn 12-year-old for a fuckin friend, Case" he grumbles as we unbuckle ourselves. I roll my eyes and thump his forehead before getting out the car. He growls and stomps up the porch stairs behind me as I knock on the door.

Ms. Samuel opens the door and lets us in. "He should be down any second" she says while carrying Little Ben down a hall on our right.

"What does this kid look like anyway?" Raph asks quietly as we hear the ceiling creaking above us. "Blonde, blue-eyed, sarcastic and a little shorter than you" I say with a smirk when he huffs. Mikey walks downstairs with a small limp. He wore a black jacket, gray t-shirt and some black jeans. " Casey, I thought you said eight not eleven" he says with crossed arms.

"Mike, this is my little brother Raph" I say with an apologetic tone. Hopefully they get along.