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My life always felt like some kind of beautiful dream; a dream from which I knew, I’d wake up abruptly.

Many people used to call me the Golden Boy, mostly because of my blond hair, but not only; also because of my school performance and generally perfect life.

Yet now, when I look at the mirror, and my grey eyes stare sadly at me, I only feel angry about the memories that this nickname brings to me.

I wish, I could go back to that phase of my life, that utopian dream, but it’s not possible anymore...

The social worker has just left me on this decaying sidewalk, with empty promises to revisit soon. Her eyes filled with pity somehow only made me feel even more enraged than I already am. I know that she doesn’t really care about me or my story; she deals with teens losing their parents nearly every week. It’s her job to bring them into this orphanage.

I’ve inherited my parents’ apartment after their death; of course. However, because I’m only seventeen, and there isn’t any other family member who could take care of me, I’m not allowed to stay there on my own. It’s a ridiculous rule; the last thing that I need right now, is a change of the environment, but there’s nothing I can do, except telling myself, it’s just a year.

As the social worker drives away, I turn my face away, doing my best not to think about that damn car that took away my parents' lives. It was stolen by a drunk fifteen year old. It took one idiot and some alcohol to take away three lives, and ruin the future of two families.

I glance up, at the orphanage’s iron gates. Somehow, I don’t have a good feeling about them... I get chills at the thought of how grim the reality behind them may be. I’ve never heard anything good about places like these...

Still, standing outside and overthinking things, isn’t really going to help.

I enter the courtyard, surrounded by tall stone walls. Looking at them makes me think of Pink Floyd’s famous hit, Another Brick In The Wall. It plays in my memory, as I look at the path leading to the old, neglected building.

A middle-aged woman wearing grey is waiting for me by the main entrance. She sends me a tired smile, like she’s been working here without breaks, for a long, long time. “Nikos Petrakis, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, adjusting my sports bag.

“Great! My name is Dimitra Levidis. Let me give you a warm welcome...” And she briefly hugs me. She seems to be a person who cares... unlike that stern social worker. However, right now, it doesn't even matter to me. I just want this day to end. Sleep is the only thing that can make me feel better...

But there’s still plenty of time till the evening, and Dimitra shows me around. The hallways are all filled with grim-looking paintings and fading lamplight.