In my mind, there are only two things that can make a person act out without a proper reason: love for someone or hatred toward something. Otherwise, every action we take is nothing but for our own benefit.
That's exactly what happened after I saw the dead bodies of my parents lying in front of me. Everything that followed after that moment was a blur.
Somehow, the police arrived. I was taken into another room—I didn't resist.
I didn't want to be there. I kept hoping it was nothing but a bad dream, just a nightmare. But reality hit me like a slap across the face—it wasn't a dream. It was real. My reality.
I cried. After that, not often, but in those first days, all I did was cry. Tears would run dry, and I'd stop for a while, only to start crying again.
They said my father—who was a journalist—had somehow uncovered the illegal activities of a mafia boss named Glenn Gunner. That cost me my parents.
