Her gravestone

Chapter one

I traced the cursive marks of her name on the gravestone, the stone was ice cold, even though it was the middle of June. My mind flashed, back to the night we found her, in an ally way. Bloody and bruised, gun shot wound piercing her forehead.
They say she was rapped, then beat, then murdered. The most common death here. Every year 1-5 teens are pronounced with this same death and every time, each victim had a gun shot right between their eyes. I just never thought it would happen to someone so close to me. My sister. My only sibling. The only person I ever looked up to after my mom died and my dad was locked away in prison.
          My mom died when i was eleven, now that i'm 16, its been getting easier without her. The first few years were pure hell when she died. How she died you may be asking, murdered. Why my dads locked up in prison? Take a guess.
            So after that, my sister and I became really close. She was four years older than me, so to her, I was the only thing that she needed to protect, but in a world like this, not only do you have to protect who you love, you have to protect yourself, even when you feel like everything is safe.
           I whipped the tear sliding down my face, stood up and glanced one more time at her gravestone. Why? Was all I could manage through my mind.