Explosion; the not-so long story of the orange ninja

My Dad Died but Here's a Hot Dude

It was just yesterday when I could still feel my father's warm embrace, the one he always gave me before bed.

"Goodnight, my little sunshine," he would whisper into my ear as he wrapped his strong arms around me and smiled.

I still remember the all too familiar gleam in his eyes when I would look at him, and I could still hear his kind laughter echoing in my ears.

What did that matter?

He was dead.

I watched him die.

I did nothing to save him.

All I could do was sit there and watch the helpless look in Father's face, while he suffocated beneath a burning pile of fallen roof shingles.

It's all my fault. I wasn't strong enough to save him. I should have called for help when I had the chance.

My senses quickly went back to reality, as I felt a salty tear running down my cheek.

I was sitting in the middle of the ruins of Ninjago City.

Father, being the optimistic person he is, said this was the place for a fresh start. A new life, away from Stiix.

A sound of laughter filled the air, and I realized it was coming from me.

I did not stop myself. I laughed, pretending for even a fraction of a second that this was all some stupid dream.

Ninjago City, a place for new opportunities. Yes, of course, because why wouldn't you move to the city that gets blown up all the time?

It was funny, because I could hear my father laugh with me, prompting me to laugh even more.

Yes, my brain was playing tricks on me. Father wasn't dead. How could he be? He was right here, beside me.

I turned my head to look at my father, who, for a split second seemed to have life in his glassy eyes. I waited for him to laugh with me and get up from the rubble.

But he didn't.

My feeble attempt at comforting myself slipped away as my laughs turned into sobs, and I planted my face in my palms.

"Lynn, are you alright?" Came a voice from my left.

Wiping my tears away, I looked up at the voice. My step-brother's voice.

A wave of annoyance swept over me.

"Are you, Drew? Because you don't seem the slightest bit sad," I glared at him.

"Do you think I don't care that dad is dead? Because I do. I care," Drew assured me, but his words were empty.

"He's not your dad," I mumbled.

Drew scoffed. "Well he treated me like I was his son, because that's what I am! I am his son! You are my sister, whether you like it or not!"

His voice was rising. He always got angry easily. I used to use it for my amusement, but this time I just felt a rush of hatred towards him. But I stayed silent, because unlike Drew, I'm a good sibling.

"And don't pretend like you're the only one who lost something," he continued, but I was only half listening, "because my mom's dead now! You and me, yeah we're lucky to be alive right now, so you'd better suck it up and deal with me for however long we have to be together."

The words 'lucky to be alive' stung my ears. I could feel my face getting red.

"Lucky to be alive?" I whispered.