I felt like writing something kinda sad. Enjoy and review.

Alex Rider stared at the sheets of paper in front of him. One blank, one with instructions:

Write about something you have lost. Your favourite childhood toy, maybe. Or an opportunity?

Those things were far too typical for the fifteen-year old named Alex Rider. He began to write, just flowing his thoughts out onto paper, but, inevitably, with some lies.

All the things I lost. By Alex Rider

Ever since Jack died, I lost everything. She was my lifeline, the person who kept me there. Ever since my Uncle Ian died when I was fourteen, I was ill all the time. I got separated from my friends save two: Tom and Sabina.

But I guess it all started when my parents died. John and Helen Rider. They were going on a plane to France. I was at home, a one year old baby; I had an earache so I couldn't go with them. We were going to move to France. My parents were leaving for a couple of days to check out some house in Montpelier. Right now, I could be living a normal life with a normal family in France. Normal friends. I'd be the same as every other fifteen year old. But John and Helen Rider died in a plane crash.
I lost my life with my parents.

When I was fourteen, I lived in Chelsea with my Uncle Ian and our housekeeper Jack. For me, that was normality. I remember going on holiday with him: Scuba diving, mountain climbing, skiing... Sometimes I would twist his arm to get him to help me with my homework or we'd practice Karate together. Then Ian, my last surviving relative, died. It was a car crash that time.
I lost my life with my Uncle.

When my Uncle died, the bank he worked for were my legal guardians.

Alex paused. This paragraph was about the bank taking away his childhood. What lie could he make up for that?

Sometimes they'd make me do the work they had no time to do. I had no choice. I had to write bank papers up for hours on end.

Alex considered. Yeah, not as brutal as reality, but It'd have to do. He hoped MI6 would get sued for child labour.

Since Jack was American, they threatened to get her deported. To terminate her Visa, maybe even get her prosecuted for being in the country without it. Then they said they'd send me to a crummy boy's home. I couldn't tell Jack, otherwise she'd get arrested, they told me. She thought I was in the hospital, ill. They always said that she couldn't see me, as my immune system went down when I was ill. I wasn't a kid any more. I was surrounded by lies and deceit and blackmail.
I lost my innocence.

It happened so many times in that year, on a regular basis, that I wasn't normal any more. I didn't worry so much about all the small, typical things fourteen year olds should have to worry about. I worried about the next time I'd have to work my butt of for hours on end. When I'd have to complete a paper within a deadline and make it sound professional. If I'd get hit for not doing a good enough job. Alex smiled slightly. That should be enough to get Blunt arrested. In that time, I changed. I realised that in the world of men, nobody tells the truth. Nobody believes in morals. They'll only ever do whatever works best for them, but never for other people.
I lost my normality.

As the bank continued to use me for about the eighth time, I knew I couldn't escape them. They'd keep doing this to me and taking me out of school. I was so far behind, I'd never be able to get a decent job. I hardly ever played football any more, so becoming a professional player was out of the question. I'd probably end up working for the bank all my life. I stopped believing in fictions where the good escapes the bad and the day is saved. That never happens in the real world.
I lost my dreams.

As I kept being used, the people I called my friends began to dislike me. Someone spread the rumours around that I was a druggie, or in a gang, because I guess my tiredness made me look doped-up, and because of the various bruises the bank gave me. They told Jack that sometimes I would sleepwalk, which she believed, as I often sleepwalk anyway. Not, thought Alex. I'd only told one kid, Tom, and made him swear never to tell anyone. For Jack's sake. He reluctantly agreed. He was the only person who would hang out with me after a while. Everyone else just glared and gossiped.
I lost most of my 'friends'.

Then it happened. Jack died. It was a car bomb. Everyone thinks it was random, caused by a group of drunk teenagers who were unidentified. It was even in the Chelsea newspaper. But nobody but Tom, Sabina, and I know it wasn't. It was the bank. When I finally put my foot down, that was what they did. It was my fault. I never should have said no. Now Jack's dead because of me. Naturally, Tom and Sabina refuse to say that it was my fault, but it makes no difference. Because I know it was.
I lost my life with Jack.

Alex Rider was staring at his page, blinking madly to stop the tears rolling down. It was his fault. All his fault. How could he have let Grief done that to her? How! He should never have let her come... He had wanted his life back and what was left had been destroyed.

I've lost so much of who I was that I am not that person any more. I can't be the Alex Rider that I once knew. I have a whole different family, but that doesn't stop me from wishing for my old life. Wanting Jack to come back and tell me its all right...

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Dazed, a blonde-haired boy shoved his sheet in the pile moving up the table. The boy walked out of the classroom, truly believing that he had killed the one parental figure he had had left.

So... REVIEW! What do you think? Should I turn it into a story? But how...?