The city of New York can be a place for many opportunities. Some people find their future; some people find their true love. Some people have a career; some people find a chance at a new life. For young Mitchell Wyatt, the city of New York was just a hellhole for him. Living in the dangerous part of Hell’s Kitchen has not always been easy for him, but he learned to keep his nose out of trouble. Every time a mugging or crime was happening in front of him, he just put his head down, and looked straight at his feet.
“Wake up, kid! Time to leave us alone!” is what Mitchell heard from his 24/7 drunk of a father every morning. Mitchell would drag himself out of bed everyday and put on some clothes he couldn’t tell were either washed with soap or cologne was sprayed on to it. He exits his room and entered the kitchen, where the air was filled with cigarette smoke and alcohol. His mother was sitting in the kitchen, smoking her 5th cigarette of the day and tugging up the clothing that is too revealing for a middle aged woman.
“Go make something for yourself, you worthless thrash,” said Mitchell’s mother, not even looking at him. He grabbed out frozen waffles and cooked them in the toaster. His father burped and yelled to Mitchell “Get me another beer!”
“Why don’t you get it yourself, you filthy piece of crap!” is what Mitchell wanted to say, but he didn’t want to get a black eye before he gets to school. So he grabbed the beer out of the fridge and gave it to his father. His father took the beer out of Mitchell’s hands, took a sip, and spat the beer back in his face.
“This beer is warm! Get me a cold one idiot!” hissed Mitchell’s father.
Mitchell just stood there his eyes blank; his hands curled into fists, simply nodded and went to get his father another beer.
He finished his breakfast waved goodbye to his mother and father, but instead of waving goodbye and saying, “Have a good day!” they simply grunted and continued to watch T.V.
Mitchell got outside of his apartment building, and checks his left pocket, he felt a cold metal object and grasped it, pulled it out a tiny bit, and saw it was his tazer. He let out a breath of relief, knowing he can defend himself if he gets in any trouble. He was walking down the street and saw many foul souls ready to wreak danger into the streets. Drug dealers, muggers, hookers, all these people started showing up when Brooklyn started buffing up law enforcement. Mitchell has been very lucky that he hasn’t been part of any of these sinful deeds these people do.
Mitchell made it school peacefully without anyone asking if he wanted to hit or if they “Want to party”. Mitchell’s day at school is just as bad as living with his parents. He goes through the hall with people pushing him knocking down his books, saying “Watch where you’re going, freak!” or “Oops, sorry about that stupid!” Every time he was bumped or his books knocked down or yelled at, he just looked down silently and picked up his books or continues to walk down the hall. Even his teachers treat him unkindly. Whenever one of his classmates would cause trouble behind the teacher’s back, they would somehow frame it on Mitchell and the teacher would send him to the principle’s office and get detention.
Luckily today everything was better than usual. Not fantastic, but better. He got his Backpack of books and was walking home until a gang of boys stopped him in his tracks. “Hey crap face, what’s new?” said the boy in front of him. The boy who was talking to Mitchell was much taller than him, so he was looking straight at his chest, as if he was deaf and didn’t hear what the boy said and was totally invisible to him. He walked around the gang of boys and continues to walk home, but the gang followed him.
“Where you going, Wyatt? You in hurry to get the crap kicked out of you by your dad? Or is Mommy gonna make you clean the laundry?” said the boy.
“If you excuse me Tommy, I believe I have some homework to do,” said Mitchell turning to the boy known as Tommy as he was walking. Mitchell then tripped on the curb and knocked down a wooden platform that had a man painting the building. The platform fell on Tommy, with paint splashing down all over his head. The whole gang was in awe at what happen to Tommy, while Tommy stood there, silent as owl in the late morning. He wiped the white paint off of his face, revealing his eye flaring with anger.
“You… are… so dead Wyatt…” he hissed slowly, and then yelled, “Get him!” and the gang of boys, who were bigger and stronger than Mitchell, sprinted toward him. Mitchell quickly turned away and lurched himself away from the gang of boys. Mitchell may have been smaller than the boys, but he was much faster than them. After a block of being chased by boys who looked as bloodthirsty as a pack of wolves, he quickly turned into a path of alleyways. The boys followed him into the alleyway, barely keeping up with Mitchell. Mitchell turned into another alley way and then with his keen eye and quick mind of escaping, turning into a back alley. He then hugged himself on the wall, praying the boys would past him. After hearing a couple of giant steps going past him, he heard silence. Mitchell slowly glanced into the alleyway; No one was in sight. He walked out into the alleyway, looking over his back seeing if Tommy or his friends were going to pounce at him. While walking in the alleyway a strange light caught his attention