The night after I had been sent to the orphanage was one of my first steps to how I had become now. I just needed to express myself, and paper was the only way.

My first night hadn't been that good either. I had ended up staying overnight in hospital, and not because of the explosion.

On the second night, Jenny, one of the workers at the orphanage who hadn't been there to admire the scene that had happened the day before, had come into my room when I hadn't come down to tonight's meal.

I had been rested on my bed, crying slightly over my deceased parents. I had been facing the window, but when she came in, I rolled over to see what she wanted, despite knowing.

"Clive, dinner's ready."

"Not hungry." I said, rolling back over and ignoring her. She didn't know about my hunger needs, so she needn't bother, I could do what I want!

"You have to eat, Clive, otherwise you'll starve yourself to death." Jenny was a very overdramatic and pessimistic sort of woman, and was always known for scaring the younger children. I, however, didn't really care. She came and sat next to me on the bed at that point. I didn't really like her there though, and wanted to shove her, but I didn't.

"I ate yesterday, so I'm not starving myself." I muttered under my breath. My stomach felt like it was going to explode and all my guts come pouring out if I tried eating anything.

Well, let me explain why I felt like that.

~x~

Duke, the foster carer who had taken charge of me the day before had taken me down for my first meal. Despite being distraught by all that had gone on- since the explosion had been the day before that, the man let me stay where he lived for that one night-, I was actually pretty curious to meet the others in the orphanage. I hadn't met any of them yet, since I had been separated when they were sorting me out.

As we reached outside of the boy's dining room, Duke bent down to my level and looked me in the eye. "Now, most of these boys are a lot older you, only one or two of them aren't in their teens, and if they aren't, they will be before your next birthday. If they do anything to upset you, come and tell me straight away. Most of them came when they were six or seven at the most, so they've grown up quite boisterous, so if they hurt you either, do what I said a second ago. Understand?"

I nodded my head. Duke was pretty serious when it came to something he needed to be mature about, but he could be quite fun when he wanted to be. He started off a huge water-fight one year I was there; most of the village the orphanage was in came to join in.

He then opened the door to the dining room. It was pretty large, and most people were scattered around in their own groups. Some ate alone quietly, but those were mostly the younger ones. I could see why he warned me now about the older ones.

"Boys, this is Clive, now be nice now." He said, giving me a small shove in, and mouthing "Remember what I said. I mean it."

I nodded my head to him, before walking in. He stood by the door until most people had given me a greeting, and nodded to them all; giving them some rules, like don't be out later than ten etc. before leaving. I regretted that so, so much.

"Hey, kid. The name's Jackson Samson."

The icy voice that came from behind me made me jump. I wish I never met him now, it would be better, for the both of us.

When I turned around, I saw a very tall (well, six foot did look big when I was eleven year old- and pretty small for my age), near-enough man in his late teens. He had messy brown hair and was getting a stubble. His general appearance made him look reckless.

"Hello, I'm-" I started, until a sudden pain hit my throat. Something sharp had been shoved down it. Jackson has put one hand over my mouth, the other one forcefully stroking my throat, so I couldn't shout or make any noise. "Kid, I know your name, and honestly, I didn't care in the first place." He kept doing this until he could tell I had swallowed whatever he put into my mouth, and then went off to his room laughing with the rest of his gang.

Once Duke came in to clean up (because nobody dare go near Jackson or mess up his work), he ended up finding me on the floor, hardly able to breathe. He took me straight to Accident and Emergency, and the results showed that he had shoved something he really shouldn't have down there. So, I also ended up having an operation to have it cut out (and that was another reason I wasn't hungry, it still felt like it was cut open). I remembered that I'd rather be with the girls than go through with that, and at that age, most boys want to tread over girl's dolls instead of making best friends.

~x~

After dinner had finished, I was still lying on my bed. Jenny had given up long ago, so I was just keeping as quiet as I could, until a girl of thirteen came in. "Hey, are you the kid that Jackson beat up?" she asked.

Since it wasn't one of the boys, and she seemed friendly enough, I decided to roll over (I still wasn't facing the door), and answer her. "Unfortunately."

She sat down next to me on the bed, smiling. The smile seemed genuine enough, and she looked like she had come here to cheer me up rather than mock me. "I'm Kiki, Kiki Anderson." She started. Then she gave me a sympathetic look, which really annoyed me. She lost her parents, so it's not as if she didn't know how annoying it could be. "Don't worry; I lost both my parents in explosions too. My mother was in one at the old hospital seven years ago, she was a nurse there trying to get everyone out and then lost her own life, and my father was in an accident similar to your parents."

"Thanks for reminding me." I said, rolling over so she couldn't see my eyes watering up.

"Clive, you're going to get adopted off really soon, most of us are already teenagers, and the people who come here always go off with the cutest ones anyway." she smiled softly.

"I'd rather be back with my own parents, thanks." I muttered. "They probably would make me feel a lot better." I slowly rolled back to face her again.

Kiki sighed. "I guess I'm not going to win." She then looked me straight in the eye, he piercing green eyes locking with my soft brown ones. "Anyway," she said, obviously trying to change the awkward subject, "How if your English so good for your age? You're speaking how I usually do and saying words I only recently learnt, despite our two year age gap."

"I've learnt from the newspapers." I said quietly. "I've always wanted to be a journalist…"

"I've always wanted to be like my mum, but what happened freaked me out from doing it." Kiki mused.

"You could always be a doctor and work at a medical practise." I said.

"True, but I always wanted to work on the really important cases that could end up saving someone's life." She said softly.

"Working at a doctor's could mean stopping things before they get too back and end up having to get treated at the hospital, like diagnosing cancer and being able to stop it with simple medication or a few small tests rather than an operation. Operations hurt you know." I said, just as another stomach cramp came along, making me moan in pain."

"Are you sure you're alright?" she said. I slowly nodded with a fake smile on. She could tell it wasn't genuine, but she wasn't going to argue. "Anyway, you're right about what you said; perhaps I should become a doctor instead."

"It's your choice" I said softly.

"I'm used to being told what to do; I lived with my grandmother until she passed away a year ago, and always told me what to do, how to dress, how to eat, how to talk, everything."

"But around here, people are like a wild pack of animals, right?"

Kiki laughed then, almost until she couldn't breathe. "Yes, they are, but it's just so funny how you put it then, especially with that accent!"

She was talking about me still having my childish lisp. I smiled at her then. From everyone I had met, I was the youngest here, so I preferred being by the adults rather the rowdy teenagers. Because I was the smallest, around the teenagers, I felt like they were a pack of wild animals on top of me.

"Sorry for sounding rude, but I'm awfully tired, and I was planning on going to sleep."

"Oh, OK." Kiki said, obviously not taking any offense, the smile stayed planted on her face. Just as she was about to open the door, she turned around. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow." I nodded.

"Well, goodnight Clive."

"Goodnight."

I quickly got changed into my nightclothes from the orphanage, since my other one's were probably either ash or buried under the rubble still. Following that, I got properly in the bed, and almost immediately dropped off into sleep...

I found myself on my old street, walking up it alone. It was a quiet part of town, so it was pretty much safe to be alone on the roads as long as you were aware of residents and the odd car. There was nobody there, well, I thought so, until I saw him. It was a boy about my age coming out of the flat I lived in, he had soft light brown hair and strangely dark brown eyes for around this part of the world. That's when I realised who it was. It was me, and I was watching myself from outside of my body. I was about to watch the explosion from outside of my body. I saw everything, and it broke my heart over and over again.

I woke up screaming and in a cold sweat. You think that nightmare was bad, young me? It slowly gets worse and worse. I checked the clock. I can't remember the exact time, but it was the middle of the night, somewhere between two and five in the morning. I had fell back onto the pillow, but I knew I wouldn't be able to go to sleep after that. There were two pillows, and I had grabbed the bottom one and just sobbed my dear heart out into it. My mind was filled with philosophical thoughts, and other things concerning death. I was shaking out of fear. Then I realised how unlike myself I was actually being. Well Clive, you just lost the only people you loved. You lost your friends, the only others you could trust. You've moved 50 miles away from your life, though it might as well be 50 universes.

That was the moment psychotic Clive first came to the meet and greet. It felt like someone was trying to destroy my life…they didn't know, but I knew that I wanted revenge. Justice. I had gotten out of the bed, it still being the middle of the night, turned on the lamp, found a pen, and just wrote whatever flowed out from the pen onto the page:

Dear the person who has ended up leaving me orphaned, made me move to the worst place on Earth, and generally has ruined my life,

I don't know who you are, but I hate you, I mean HATE you, for what you have done. You've ruined my life, and plenty of others, and I am going through what is harder than I originally thought could be possible. You've left me homeless, orphaned, and didn't you think about at least trying to help me, or anybody, who lost someone or something dear to their heart due to the events yesterday YOU caused? Oh, no. You just went off and ignored us all. Well, thanks a lot for what you did. Thanks a bloody lot. I will find you, and get my revenge on you for doing this, no matter how long it takes, whether it is tomorrow or at either of our death beds. You think this is funny, because I am an incompetent, naïve, child? Well, you will find out what I can do. I will be standing, smiling maliciously over you as you take your last breath. I don't lie, whoever you are, lying is for cowards, and I am no coward.

Regards,

Clive, the son of two victims of your stupid, careless idea.

I only read it once I had finished. I felt so evil reading it, but also refreshed. And no, it was completely true, not just out of being in a rage at the person. I read it again, and again, and again, my breath was icily cold against the paper as I brought harsh images of the person's slow, bloody death into my mind. Was this really who I was? Was this who I was to become? Yes, Clive, this is you.

I loved my parents with all my heart. I only left the flat when I was going to play with my friends, going to the shops, or in an incident such as the day before. For my parents, I would have done anything to put a smile on their faces; I was ambitious to make everyone proud, them especially. I had never done anything to deserve what they did to me, nor my parents. I hadn't done anything. Like they had done, I refused to stand at the side-line eating popcorn and sipping on a drink of pop. I was a fighter, and whether fully grown man, young child, or slowly-dying pensioner, I would fight. For myself, my parents, for other victims, and for justice.