So my life before I turned seven was pretty normal. I had a mom, Dad, and older sister, and a best friend. I lived in San Francisco, and biked across the Golden Gate Bridge daily. Then, my parents started fighting. It soon turned into a divorce. So I moved with my mom and older sister to an apartment above Gladrags, Mom's store. Then, one day, a fire started in Gladrags, which was later determined by the fire department that it was becuase my pet tiger nearly ate me and of a cigarette someone had tossed on a rug. The fire killed my Mom, and destroyed everything I and Tracy (my older sister) owned. We had to move in with our dad. Then, about four months after the fire, Tracy was diagnosed with Leukemia. The illness claimed her life two months later, despite prayers and hopes.
On the way home from Tracy's funeral, a drunk driver hit our car, killing my dad. I was devastated. My whole life had shattered in six months. My best friend moved before the fire, so I had no one to turn to.
Except for the orphanage.
And that is my life.