I knew something was wrong when the school nurse called me out of history with a pained expression on her face. It was all quite 'Ferris Bueller' like…Nurse Kennedy (or Nursie as she was better known) was one of those very maternal women and impossible to dislike…but no-one was capable of breaking bad news like this.

I found myself sat in her little office, just off the 'sick room' where three beds took up most of the floor-space. I'd spent hours in here before; any way to skip class. My friends and I would exaggerate any illness and just sit in here and chat rather than going to chemistry. She knew, obviously…but she didn't mind. It wasn't one of those times now though…we weren't lounging around with ice packs and laughter, asking after her model slash accountant son…no, the mood was very different here.

I'd never thought of what would happen if my parents were to suddenly disappear from my life…why would I? Just like most people I took them for granted…the fact that they would always be there when I got home. Why would I possibly even think that one day so soon they would be gone? But that day had come out of nowhere.

The fact that it was eleven o'clock and I still had a good four hours of school to go didn't matter. I ran all the way home, heart beating out of time and terror filling me. It wasn't true…it was all a practical joke…a cruel one. I'd crash into the attic and find my mother with her hair messily tied up and that expensive shirt dad bought from M&S yesterday protecting her clothes; painting beautiful colours on massive canvases. She'd tell me off for skiving again and I'd go back to school…everything would be perfectly normal.

It was empty…the canvas was blank and dad's shirt was still perfectly white and pristine.

I'd say it was around that time that realisation hit me and I sank down to the floor…they were gone. They were actually gone.

Nursie had told me it was a car crash…on their way back from the party last night they'd been crossing the bridge, just at the point that the storm had peaked. The driver of the other car hadn't been concentrating properly-no…he'd been drunk…completely shitfaced. And he survived.

School didn't matter anymore…getting out of bed, eating, washing…none of that mattered anymore. My friends came over, letting themselves in when I didn't answer the door (the four of us all had keys to one another's houses; practically family as we were). They tried to make me go out, just to the park but I didn't want to. They made me a massive fried breakfast but the idea of eating made me feel sick.

Maybe two days after the initial news, Fran was sitting at the end of my bed reading the book we were studying in English. Jamie and Rich were downstairs making cakes which would no doubt look like a dog's dinner but taste like perfection. They were all under the impression that if I was alone I'd never get better…so they refused to leave me alone. They'd even brought bags and sleeping bags with them, their parents having let them all stay here. I was grateful, I was don't get me wrong…but it wasn't the same anymore. They had their parents to tell them they had to be home at eleven latest because they had school the next day. They had their parents to wake them up in the mornings and bring them a mug of tea when they felt down. They had their parents to drag them on weeklong holidays to the Peak District that you didn't really want to go to but quietly enjoyed it when you got there. They even had their brothers and sisters to argue with and play pranks on…

I was jealous…jealous of my best friends; that they had a family and mine was gone. It was wrong of me…but I couldn't help it. I didn't want them around because every time they were there I'd be reminded of what I'd lost and what I'd never have again. But I didn't say anything…how could I? I just lay in bed and stayed quiet…listening to their conversations. They talked like normal…about school and people we knew, not treating me too differently. For that I was grateful.

Anyway, it was two days later when the doorbell rang and I heard someone answer it. Both Fran and I stopped, not having been doing anything before but freezing as we listening to who it was. Quiet talking emanated from the hall before the stairs creaked under a person's weight.

The woman who walked into my room was dressed smartly; in a grey skirt suit and white shirt. She looked around forty, subtle strands of silver in her brunette hair hinting towards an older age. I nodded quietly in response to Fran's question of whether or not to go downstairs and she left a moment later. The woman sat down on the chaise at the end of the bed…she introduced herself as Karen Peters from child services.

I got the jist of where this conversation was going almost straight away and she quickly confirmed my thoughts. I sat up straight, shaking my head, "No…no way. I'm eighteen in nine months, I am perfectly capable of living on my own." It was the first full sentence I'd said in what seemed like years.

A pitying look filled her eyes which only served to make me dislike her more. "I understand, but you have to realise you're not yet eligible to live alone. You need to be with family-"

"Well I have none so you're going to have a problem there aren't you." I interrupted harshly, anger in my eyes. Who was she to tell me I had to live with someone else? I was basically an adult, who was she to come in here three days after my parents had been torn from my life and tell me I had to move in with some people I won't even know.

She let out a sigh, "You do have family Elena, you know you do."

For a moment I didn't know what she was going on about, then it hit me…Jenna, "No. No fucking way I am not moving to America." The idea was completely preposterous. I'd met my aunt Jenna a few times before and she was truly lovely, but there was no way in hell that I was moving all the way to America, away from all my friends and my school and the place where I'd grown up with my parents…just not happening.

"I'm afraid you have no choice Elena." She said, a little more coldly but still with that sickening sympathy in her eyes, "I've already contacted your aunt and she'll be happy to have you. Your flights been booked in three days-"

I cut her off for a second time, jumping to my feet, my fists clenched and fury blazing in my eyes, "Who the fuck do you think you are!?" I screamed, unable to hold it in, "You have no right to come in here and tell me to move to fucking America! My parents just died you absolute heartless bitch! Get out of my house! Now, get the fuck out!"

It was so not me to talk like that…I wasn't a rude person but I wasn't me right now. She left quickly with an almost fearful expression on her face. But before she left she reached into her bag and set an envelope down on the bed…an envelope that on opening I found a one way ticket to Richmond, Virginia.

Okay that wasn't amazing but give me a chance next chapter should be a little better

I know in the UK and most other places the legal age to live alone it 16 but just for the story's sake, its 18…give it some artistic licence

I've written a few chapters so please review and I'll keep updating