Lost

My story?

I don't know what my story is or where I should begin. If anything, my story is just plain pathetic. And what in my story could I trust him with? That my father died of "illness"? That my mother was kidnapped and I've been on the streets training to find my parent? That I was treated like royalty and not until recently that I began to finally grow up and protect myself.
I stare at him and sigh. I need to just be honest.
"I'm not really sure my story is that important but I guess I should start my story."
He waits patiently for me to begin my story.
"I was raised by my mother and father. But unlike you, my mother and father treated me well...almost spoiled."
I looked at him and saw a hint of jealously on his face.
"My parents always tried to help and so, taking after my parents I always wanted to help people. So my family would go to the homeless shelter every Tuesday and help serve there. But things changed when my dad became sick."
I hold my breath and let out little breaths.
"I knew it was hopeless. He would die soon. Everyone knew that. But somehow everyone's heads were up. They always had something cheerful to say about my father which helped me not think of reality. And right before he passed away..."
"He gave me this" I say quietly.
I look down at my dagger which I had been stroking through out the whole story. I hand him the dagger carefully and he takes it, gently stroking the writing on the dagger. I continue.
"And when he died, my mother was strong like I never was. I didn't see her cry, but I heard her. At night when she thought I was asleep she'd be up sobbing in her pillow, trying to block out any noise that might wake me up."
I pause for a second. Rethinking of what I said. Should I go on? I ask myself. Just go on. I respond pushing myself through the next part of my story.
"And about a month later, I came home from school to nothing. Just a broken in home. I ran to the phone and called the police. The police came and told it was a kidnapping and they told me I needed to go with social security."
I look at him but he's facing toward the ground.
"I knew I needed to leave. I needed to get away from everyone and everything. And fast. I ran upstairs and began to pack my things. All the cash I could find, enough clothes to last me awhile and survival weapons. I knew where the weapons were because I have seen father, take them out when someone unknown was at the door. But I wasn't sure what to take. So I just poured the drawl full of weapons into my bag.
That night, I fled. I fled to the old building where I now know as the training building. I knew I had to find my mother. But I didn't know how. So I did the only thing I could think of.
It was to train. Become stronger and be able to find her and take her to safety. And that's what I've been doing since I met you."
I feel uneasy about the last part of my story but I force on a nervous smile and wait for his response.