You'se are kidding me, you've gotta be." I huffed under my breath in an enraged tone. What do you say to some old hag who tells you you'll be moving in with your newfound brother and not only your brother, but his friends. Christ, I just met the kid and here I am being told we're related. Let me start from the beginning, I'm Patch.
Patch, weird name, right? Yeah, I'd say so too...but I never knew my real name. I was left on the steps of the News Girls Orphanage in Manhattan at four months old, left to be taught the life of a news girl. My life consisted of selling papers for those "above me" in society, like Pulitzer and Herst. What crap it was, too. My parents had screwed me over, my brother had screwed me over, my friends had screwed me over and now the government screwed me over. The News Girl Lodging House and the News Boy Lodging House were to be joined together at the end of this week, it Thursday, two days to go.
Hypes Point of View
"So I just grabbed that jerk and socked him in the face." I shouted at my friend, Chaos, making a fist and smacking it into the palm of my hand, "He turned around and just wailed me in the face, like that." I grabbed the back of her head in order to show her how the Bulls had hit me across the face repeatedly.
She stared in amazement, "so dat's how you'se got that hell of a shiner." She replied, spitting at the ground and kicking a loose pebble from the asphalt.
"Heck yeah it is." I laughed, holding my hand up to my prized black and blue as we walked aimlessly through the streets of Manhattan. I had met Chaos two days ago, on a Tuesday in April, just like myself she had run away from home and an abusive one at that. We had clicked due to the similarity in our pasts, though we never talked about it. My mother had died during the birth of my little sister, Sadie, and my father had never seemed to appreciate the exsistance of either one of us. Hence the reason he would continuously punch, kick and spit on me. I knew Chaos had had a bad experience herself from the mysterious scar above her left eyebrow, it gave her a tough sort of grungey look. I liked it. I liked her.
I gazed at the sky, it had suddenly turned from an indigo shade to a dark blue punctured with fragments of black, "God, it's gotten late." I commented lightly, "We'se should find a place ta stay for da night." I suggested.
"Yeah, there's gotta be a stoop somewhere 'round 'ere dat we can sleep on. Luckily it looks like it'll be warm tonight." Chaos searched through the darkness for a spot to sleep, letting her eyes adjust to the dim outlines made by the moon, "There's a stoop." She pointed to a fairly rundown area with a shingle nailed to the door, a good portion of it dangling. We slowly walked over and sat down, curling up into two tight masses to keep ourselves warm and dosing off slowly in the moonlit summer night.
Patch, weird name, right? Yeah, I'd say so too...but I never knew my real name. I was left on the steps of the News Girls Orphanage in Manhattan at four months old, left to be taught the life of a news girl. My life consisted of selling papers for those "above me" in society, like Pulitzer and Herst. What crap it was, too. My parents had screwed me over, my brother had screwed me over, my friends had screwed me over and now the government screwed me over. The News Girl Lodging House and the News Boy Lodging House were to be joined together at the end of this week, it Thursday, two days to go.
Hypes Point of View
"So I just grabbed that jerk and socked him in the face." I shouted at my friend, Chaos, making a fist and smacking it into the palm of my hand, "He turned around and just wailed me in the face, like that." I grabbed the back of her head in order to show her how the Bulls had hit me across the face repeatedly.
She stared in amazement, "so dat's how you'se got that hell of a shiner." She replied, spitting at the ground and kicking a loose pebble from the asphalt.
"Heck yeah it is." I laughed, holding my hand up to my prized black and blue as we walked aimlessly through the streets of Manhattan. I had met Chaos two days ago, on a Tuesday in April, just like myself she had run away from home and an abusive one at that. We had clicked due to the similarity in our pasts, though we never talked about it. My mother had died during the birth of my little sister, Sadie, and my father had never seemed to appreciate the exsistance of either one of us. Hence the reason he would continuously punch, kick and spit on me. I knew Chaos had had a bad experience herself from the mysterious scar above her left eyebrow, it gave her a tough sort of grungey look. I liked it. I liked her.
I gazed at the sky, it had suddenly turned from an indigo shade to a dark blue punctured with fragments of black, "God, it's gotten late." I commented lightly, "We'se should find a place ta stay for da night." I suggested.
"Yeah, there's gotta be a stoop somewhere 'round 'ere dat we can sleep on. Luckily it looks like it'll be warm tonight." Chaos searched through the darkness for a spot to sleep, letting her eyes adjust to the dim outlines made by the moon, "There's a stoop." She pointed to a fairly rundown area with a shingle nailed to the door, a good portion of it dangling. We slowly walked over and sat down, curling up into two tight masses to keep ourselves warm and dosing off slowly in the moonlit summer night.