To say 'life hadn't been easy' would be an understatement, he'd grown up in an orphanage never knowing who his parents were or what they were like, though that fact itself never really bothered him – he had never wanted to know his parents and he didn't know, he didn't even want to think about the kind of people they were, though he had a few words that would probably fit quite well. Life had treated him unkindly and he had became a bitter young man, if 16 year olds could be classed as bitter of course, many people would probably disagree and decide that he was too young to decide that life had been bad, argue that it had only just began, but then again when you grew older didn't you imagine yourself younger, when most had been happier, well he wasn't happy and therefore he wouldn't be able to reminisce like other would and he could say that life had treated him unwell.

He kept himself to himself and apparently always had, when the older staff at the orphanage the ones that had been there the longest told stories of his youth he had learnt that he had never really been like a young boy, he had never really played or interacted with the other children but sat by himself staring out at the world and thinking to much for a young child. That was when he had actually been bothered to listen to what the staff had to say, like I mentioned he kept to himself and rarely spoke to anyone, the only person he did speak to was his best friend, his only friend who had also been an orphanage but had found his parents around 2 years ago and convinced them to move to the area so he could live with them but still be around for Nish – that was what he was known as, he didn't have a name other than Nish which he had apparently chosen himself at youth he wasn't sure where it had came from or why he had called himself it but that was his 'name'.

It was hard for Nish despite what people said about him just being another mardy teenager, which to be fair he was far from; he was bitter, yes – he was the kid at school that loved all those poems about death and murder, the psychopathic thing gaining his interest - and cold, callous almost cruel but that was just his exterior, his defence mechanism as he was told, he was infact a totally different person when you got to know him, well when he let people get to know him. the fact was he wasn't bothered too much about company and he didn't really like letting anyone close, except for his best friend of course, who despite all this knew everything there was to know about him, even something he himself wasn't too sure about. Life hadn't just been unkind to him because of the fact he never knew his parents, all the other kids he had grow up with had never know there's, or infact wished they hadn't and there was of course the 'lucky' few that had met there's, take his best friend for example.

No, it wasn't just that. Though the reason that it was probably made up for most of his behaviour if not the fact that he didn't want to be let down again like his parents had, he may have never known them and rarely thought about them know but he remembered spending hours just wondering why they had left him, why they had hated him so much to give him away. He would see people walking down the streets with children in pushchairs and children dangling of their parents hands and feel pure envy for what they had, he hadn't understood that his mother was probably a whore who had a one night stand and left her unwanted baby or the fact that his parents could have been drunken idiots that weren't fit to look after a child, no that had came to him later on when he had learnt more about life. He may have thought of his parents a lot when he was younger but now that he was older he decided all those earlier thoughts made up for the ones for the rest of his life, they didn't care about him and he didn't care about them – that's the way he saw it now.

Besides he could look after himself now, although at the moment he was happy where he was – he had a place to sleep to himself because others were 'scared' of him and he got fed daily, why an earth would he leave? The only thing he had trouble controlling was his feelings and it wasn't like they were out of control or anything, it was just the simple fact that when he looked at someone with a deep feeling of hatred towards them, things would happen to them, things he found himself smiling at and thing he later found out he did himself – unconsciously without knowing, because of the feeling he felt towards the people, when he had seen the children skipping down the road holding there parents hands, smiles sprouting from there faces like infectious diseases to those around him, things would happen – they would fall, hurt themselves, and smiles turned to tears.

It wasn't just things like that though, it was more obvious things, things that had made the other children and probably some of the staff at the orphanage scared of him, which was one of the reasons they never bothered him, never set him a place at the table because they knew he wouldn't join, one of the many reasons he kept to himself so much. Nish wasn't sure what he wanted from life, so far life hadn't been anything to smile about and he doubted it would change anytime soon, for him it was just about the fact he was living, there was blood running through his veins and that was about the best thing about it. He didn't have anywhere to go or anything to become and he didn't aspire to do anything great in the world, he just planned to carry on trudging through the mess he left until his day came, probably putting people out of there miseries – making the world a better place.

Right now Nish was seated on a cold solid sea wall overlooking the great expanse of ocean that crashed against the bottom of the solid concrete structure; his thoughts drifting idly from one thing to another. He was confused right now but then again his weird powers always had confused him, it was hard for him to just forget about them and not wonder what was wrong with him or why these things happened. He liked the sea, the one good thing about living at an Orphanage where the staff were slightly scared of you was the fact that you could declare you were going out and would need some money from the 'trips' jar and could just take it and go, he and Frankie had taken a bus down to the sea and had wandered aimlessly around the seaside shops before stopping to stare out at their freedom, both had been quiet for a while and Nish knew it wouldn't be long til his best friend spoke up again.

Frank was the sort of person that could stand quiet for a while but soon got anxious of what was being thought in the silence and began to feel uncomfortable so had to break it someway. In different circumstances he would probably cope better with the silence, but lately it was becoming a bit too unbearable for poor Frankie to comprehend, besides he new Nish spent most his time away from him silent and thinking so it was kind of strange for him to do the same in his presence. A soft sigh escaped Frank's lips and Nish felt his eyes being drawn away from the scenery and his brain being pulled away from his previous thoughts of freedom to what his friend would say next. He waited for his friend's soft cockney accent to appear and a smile tugged at his lips as it did;

[i]"C'mon Harry, there right at the Orphanage you do think to much" [/i]

Nish couldn't help but roll his eyes at the 'Harry' as this was a nickname Frank had given him a long time ago, when he had first told him about his weird powers or whatever you wanted to call them, it was just after the first Harry Potter had came out and everyone was hooting on about it so much at school that the teachers decided it would be the book they read that year. Frank had started calling him Harry ever since the whole episode with the Snake and Harry Potter's cousin Dudley had been read aloud and it had stuck ever since. Night was falling over the small seaside town and the tide had began to creep in, slow at first but now the waves were coming thick and fast. Nish' eyes drew to the sky as he realised how dark it was turning and landed on the brightness of the white half moon. Nish loved the night – it was his favourite time of the day, although he never quite got that expression and if anyone else than Frank said that to him he would probably reply with his usual cold sarcastic, callous voice 'Well it's not really the day then is it?' this would probably be matched with a roll of the eyes and a pitying sigh before he would stalk back to his hideaway he called a bed room.

"Yeah, guess we better be getting back soon" Nish mumbled in response drawing his eyes away from the crashing waves that were constantly playing the background music. He shrugged his black weathered leather jacket on and stood up from his seat stretching slightly as he did and turning to Frankie who was waiting for him a curious expression on his face, Nish frowned wondering what that face was for and what it meant, normally he could read Frank quite well but right now he had no idea what he was thinking. "What's that look for?" he asked a crease still in his brow as they wandered towards the bus stop not really bothering to rush or not, the bus was due to come in five minutes and the bus stop was only about two minutes away. Soon enough Nish was seated under the small bus shelter chatting idly to Frank about life and when they'd see each other next once they were back. The old bus slowly grinded to a halt and the two teenage boys slowly climbed aboard tossing there pennies at the middle-aged overweight bus driver and making there way to the back of the bus passing the half empty bus with a couple of other late night travellers.