I sat there crying. I hadn't cried after it all. I hadn't cried because I was strong I had gone around these past months acting as if it hadn't affected me and now all my foundations came crumbling down around me. I had grown up with four police officers. My dad lived in London in a mansion and I lived in Birmingham. My dad was a very rich and famous record producer with a harsh attitude towards people he didn't like, this got him loads of enemies, enemies that had wanted him dead for so long. They got what they wanted. I guess crying about the death of both your parents and your brother in the middle of your French period two lessons isn't a good idea but the teacher and all my friends had no idea what I was going through. I was four months pregnant with the son of the man that killed my parents and my older brother. My life is messed up.
After my family were killed I stayed with the police officers that had brought me up. They were like family, I releyed on them and the one policewoman and me kept girly and sane. It was like a massive family. We always took the Mick out of each other and had a good laugh. I should be sad about the fact my dad, mom and brother died but the truth is I hated my dad. Every time he got a hate letter from someone he would call me up and shout at me for being a brat. I never did anything it was him who was the brat. When I was little I used to cry on the phone, that would make him scream even more and after a while I learnt not to cry and stick up for myself. That's why crying on the floor overwhelmed me. I had no-one to cry too when I was little because I didn't trust the police officers. When I found out he was dead I finally realised how much I loved him. No matter how horrible he was he was still my flesh and blood. Then I was attacked. I was walking home and was pulled into an alleyway and I ended up pregnant.
