Sand

Intro

This is my 1st story and a long intro so if you would give feedback, thanks.

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Let's begin with introducing myself. My name is Xatchell Malakov. I am different. Not the bad kind or the good kind, just....different. Different because I have purple eyes and white hair. I was born with it. Anyway, more about how I got here. My father was from a little Russian town (Forgot the name) and my mom was from New York City. My mother's name was Valentine and my father's was Victor. My father moved to New York when he was 13 and quickly learned English. He took a special interest in writing and went to college to be a writer. That is where they met. They both became reporters after college and were an excellent team, until my mother became pregnant. My mother was the most caring, sweet, and kind person you will ever meet.

When I was 8, they were assigned to cover a story on the growing number of fires caused by arson. On the way to a major warehouse fire, a drunk driver crashed into the side of their car with such force that the passenger door crushed my mother and my father's neck was snapped.

It began to storm and I was curled up on the couch, waitng for my mom and dad. I heard a car door around 10 at night and opened the door, expecting my parents. Instead, there was a cop with a teddy bear in one hand and his other was on my shoulder.

"Hey little man, I got you a new bear." He said, his voice quiet and comforting.

"I already have one and I am a big kid, and big kids don't need a teddy bear." I huffed and hit my fist to my chest, trying to show how tough I was.

"I bet you are, kid... I have something to tell you..." His eyes had a deep sadness.

"Am I in trouble? I swear, I'm not the one who ate the last piece of cake!" I pleaded.

"No, you aren't in trouble." A faint smile appeared, my naiveté amused him.

He kneeled down and squeezed my shoulder.

"Your mom and dad... they wont be coming home."

I frowned, "Who is gonna read a story to me tonight?? Where are they?"

"Gone... They were killed in a car crash...." His face showed that it pained him to say it.

"No... you are lying. They are just working late!" I was angry.

"I wish that was true, kid."

"Liar! Bring them back!" I yelled and punched his chest. I was mad. Mad at him. Mad at my parents. Mad at the man who killed them. Mad at the world.

He stood and said something into his radio. I sat on my porch, soaked from the rain, crying and screaming, the teddy bear thrown on the ground and forgotten.