Hey L.A.

Prologue

I was in English class when the call came. Honestly, most of that day is a blur. The doctors and psychiatrists say it's due to the shock my body went through; my brain practically paralysed memories from that day. I can't remember what put me in a good mood. I can't remember what we were doing when the call came. I can't remember what I had for breakfast that morning, or if I even ate throughout the day at all. You get my point.

I do remember, however, Mrs. Howard's facial expression when they told her; she answered the class phone and they immediately told her. Her face was pale, and she put a hand over her mouth. Her voice got real shaky as she motioned me to come to the phone. She stood next to me, staring at me, while they told me the awful news. My parents were dead.

My parents.

They were dead.

I refused to believe it at first, hoping and praying it was just a sick, cruel, joke they were doing; I don't know why, but my mind convinced itself they were doing this for something to do with my birthday, which was that day. When they got through to me that it was the truth, I remember dropping the phone, and one of my friends asking Mrs. Howard what happened. I think she told him; all I heard at that point were mumbles. I couldn't distinguish much. But I remember him kneeling next to me, saying something, but I don't know what.

The next thing I remember, I was sitting in my room, staring at my tear-stained face in the mirror. They were silent tears though, and I was expressionless and stiff. I heard my Aunt in the living room, crying as she called people, telling them what happened.

Later, I was told it was a carjacking gone wrong. Mom felt sick and clocked out of work after lunch. When she got to her car in the parking garage, she found her car battery was dead. Dad, being on a day off from work, drove up to her work to jumpstart her enough to get her home. A man stopped, and tried to take Mom's keys. Dad noticed and went after him.

When the man was caught, he said Mom didn't really do anything except try to get her keys back; Dad saw the gun and was just trying to protect her. I blamed the man, but worked and prayed to find forgiveness for the man. I did, eventually. As awful as it might sound to some people, I knew it was what I had to do.

A lot of my friends came to the funeral. Which surprised me because it was during school, but it was nice to have friends around to help and support me. Also, a lot of family I had never even met came. It was a bad time and place for a reunion. The next week, the judge was to read Mom and Dad's Last Will and Testament, and my brother Jack and I would find out where we'd be placed.