Alexander Pov
      "What are you doing?"

"...converting oxygen into carbon dioxide." I said.

"YOURE DOING A SCIENCE EXPERIMENT?! GET IN HERE!" I heard the unmistakable sound of a belt unclipping.

"No! No! I meant breathing! It's the scientific term for breathing!" I exclaimed, explaining frantically.

"Oh! So you're trying to be a smart ass? We both know the punishment for that." John, my foster parent, said.
(A/n: John Jay not Laurens.)

I whimpered as I heard his boots coming down the hall. I looked around the room trying to find anything that could protect me from the soon to be horror.

"Shirt." He commanded, now in my doorway.

"N-no! P-please!" I sobbed.

"Don't be such a pussy! Shirt off! Against the wall! Now!" I continued to sob but did as he said.

I woke up in a cold sweat. I hate all of my foster parents. Well. Not all. I guess. Lafayette is coming back from his trip today. I don't really want to meet him. Last time I had a foster brother, I had to protect him and ended up getting beaten more.

Happy thoughts.
Riiiight.

I sighed and sat up. I heard people talking in the living room. Oh crap. There goes my anxiety. The word anxiety takes me back to my journal. The vivid descriptions of describing my mental disorders. Depression, anxiety, PTSD.
The works.
If Martha or George ever read those extremely detailed descriptions, maybe they'd understand who horrifying the world is to me.
The world isn't a world, it's a disease. A cold, yet searing pain, chasing black. It chases me through my life and at the end is the cliff. I try to outrun the darkness but that only brings me closer to that cliff.

So much for happy thoughts.

I heard two sets of footsteps in the hallway. My breath hitched.

Cool.
Your.
Jets.

"Merci, George. I almost forgot about him. I'll make sure to not uhh...be...rowdy? That's the word, right?" A voice asked.

My head cocked to one side.
Intriguing.

"Yes, That is the word. He's a very nervous fellow. Maybe tell Herc to not scream when he introduces himself. Might give the poor kid a heart attack." George said.

Me. They are talking about me.

I slowly got up and put my hand on the doorknob. That's when I realized I was only wearing my boxers. That's probably not the first impression I want. I pulled black jeans on, a belt and long sleeved white shirt with writing in red on the arms.
It doesn't matter what I wear.
I'm still me.
Which means I'm still repulsive.
I glanced at a mirror and quickly looked away. If this were a Veronica Roth book, I would Be Abnegation. No doubt. Or factionless.

No.
Definitely factionless.

I grabbed a hair tie and pulled my auburn hair into a loose ponytail. Again, doesn't matter what I do, I'm hideous. I opened the door and went into the living room. Martha was there.

I sat down next to her. "Morning." She said, flipping her newspaper to the next page.

"Morning." I said.

Footsteps.
I turned around. A guy, whom I presumed to be Lafayette, stood there. He has deep red hair, much more obvious than mine, and hazel eyes.

"Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, and you're Alex?" He asked.

"Alec." I corrected.

"Oh sorry. Nice to finally meet you." He said, his French accent drizzling over his words.

"That suits me as well." I said, my accent not as strong as Lafayette's. I was always ridiculed for the stupid thing. I practiced so hard in attempt to get rid of it. It never fully worked. The thing always was there but faint.

Martha chuckled softly. "You two talk like you are trying to impress each other. You're going to be brothers. Take a chill pill. Both of you." She said, scanning her newspaper.

"You know me too well." Lafayette said.
"How old are you?"

"Fifteen. My birthday is in two months though." I said.

Not like it mattered though. That only means I'm picking up the speed to that cliff.

"Nice. You're a senior though right?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Sick. You're gonna love Herc and John. They are the coolest. Well...kind of. I mean we are losers but cool losers. And the Schuyler sisters? You'll really love them. You'll never see them apart. They're practically connected at the hip." Lafayette said. "Pegs is a freshman but she's still hangs out with us though. We've got our small group. Again, losers. Not cool, but still we are cool in our own sense."

"Eh. I know I'll never be your Rob Deniro, for me, Joe Pesci is fine. I know I'll never be special. Heck, I just wanna survive." I told him.

"If you wanna survive then follow me!" He said, grabbing keys.

"M-Martha?!" I exclaimed, looking for an escape from whatever he was about to drag me into.

"It'll be fine. Just go with him." She said.

My eyes widened. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the house.
It'll be fine.
Sureeee.