No Name

Prologue

The boys green eyes opened wide, studying his surroundings, analyzing them so as to take his mind off of what he had just seen. He was visibly shaken and obviously frail. His black hair was too long and a shock against his whitened skin, and he was pale- too pale, as if all the color had been sucked out of him, and his deep, luminous green eyes were dancing. Tears invade his eyes as he wondered what he should do. Call the police? No. His parents had taught him, if nothing else, that you didn't ask for help. You stumble through on your own. He shook his head, trying to shake the tears out of his eyes- anouther lesson: never show weakness.

The people blurred as they pushed past him, no idea of his inner trauma. Not that they would care if they did. That was the problem with New York. No one knew anyone elses predicaments, nor did they care to. The boy guessed that he was okay with that. He didn't want to tell them anyway. He couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't figure out what he should do about this, though. Sighing, he sat on the curb on the side of the street, no one taking notice of the small boy who knew that he should probably get used to this curb. He was sure he would be here a lot. After all, where else would he live once the police found his parents dead bodies in his house?