I was just sitting in my unbelievably boring math class. The teacher, thought that it helped us learn when he lectured us about the poor language of "our" generation. He was lecturing us about language for god's sake. I remember feeling the excitement at the office calling me down to pick me up.
When I had grabbed my bags and gotten down to the front office I saw my sister, Landri waiting for me. I went to say hi to her, and then I saw the tears rushing down her panicked face. Obviously, I tried to comfort her, but I couldn't find out what was wrong. Every time she started a sentence her breath would just collapse into sobs. I had to be strong for her, but when I found out what happened, even I couldn't stop myself from crying uncontrollably.
"Your parents have been in a terrible accident." The counselor that was trying to sound slightly sympathetic told us. Even though she was just a cold, hard bitch that enjoyed others pain and didn't care about us or our family.
I knew that it was bad, without having to ask any questions. But I still asked her what had happened. She just responded with a car crash and walked away like she was on air. Luckily, our parents had a rather large amount of money, so Landri and I would be able to easily arrange a funeral and get a new house. I couldn't stay in my old room; it was too hard with all of my childhood memories. We mostly just muddled through the school year.
Landri ended up getting into a moderately good school for science, and then I was all alone. I guess that's when I decided to take up kick-boxing and guns. I always wanted to be that awesome chick in the movie in the leather pants with a giant motorcycle. So, I got one, and I named him Jarred. That was the name of my first pet. He was a goldfish that I kind of overfed.