The lost time

My name is Alexis Warner and I’m 19 years old. When I was 5 years old my parents were killed in a car accident. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t remember much from my childhood before I ended up in the foster system. And none of them are worth mentioning. My entire life I had been waiting for the day I was old enough to move away from the foster system and put that life behind me, and that is what I did. I had been taking care of myself since I was young, the only difference was that I could leave the orphanage. I could have my own apartment, and that is what I did. I moved into a run-down apartment in a bad neighborhood, that only had one room and a small bathroom, so small that you could shower and wash your hands while still sit on the toilet. The room I had was so small that it could only fit a small bed and a dresser, and in one of the corners there was a small kitchenette, but it was all I needed. Somewhere to sleep and rest when I came home from work. Since I didn’t have any money when I left the orphanage, my case worker had paid for the two first months, after that I was on my own. It didn’t look like a home, but it was still my home. The first real home I had since I was five. I loved living by myself, not having to care about anyone other than me. And the best part was there was no case worker coming to visit every month. She did tell me that I could always call her if I needed help, but I decided that I wasn’t going to need any help. I was going to everything on my own. I got a job at a diner, working as a waitress. The pay wasn’t the best, but it was enough that I could pay my bills and eat decent food. And once in a while the tips I got was enough to buy some new clothes or shoes, all on sale of course. I was happy with what I had, and that was all I needed. For now.