WHOOSH, the wind howled as a gray Toyota raced down an interstate highway. Its wheels spun at fast speeds, the speedometer blaring out the number "75" on the car's digital dashboard. Two people are seen in the driver and passenger seats of this vehicle, a male figure and a female figure. The male figure is wearing formal attire, consisting of a white dress shirt, a solid red tie, and a pair of black dress pants. His red hair is combed straight and proper, a briefcase on his lap, with both hands gripping the steering wheel. The woman is dressed equally formally, her black hair curly and wrapped in a bun, with various strands escaping to frame her quaint face. She has makeup on that pairs well with her floral dress. The man and woman are deep in conversation.

"That meeting went well, you think?" said the man. "I hope the kids are okay by themselves."

"Oh, don't worry, dear. The meeting went spectacularly. We might be expecting a raise," replied the woman, her marriage ring glowing in the sunset-lit sky. "I have faith in Joey; we raised him well; he can take care of the twins."

"As a father, I worry. A boy his age is dependent on his parents. Who knows how he'll end up without—" The man stops mid sentence, he notices a small black blob in the oncoming horizon. He squints his eyes, unsure of what it can be. This is a one way highway, what the hell is that? He thinks to himself. His question gets answered quickly, the front of a truck is seen barrelling towards him. The man and woman stare at it, as if it is merely a hallucination. A split second later, they soon realize that it is no mere trick of the eye. "WHY IN THE F—" The man turns sharply on the steering wheel as the truck races by, the couple jolting to the right. The sudden shift in velocity causes the car to spin out of control, the two powerless to do anything. The car drives into the railing of the highway, going airborne as it drives off a cliff. Wheels spin on invisible ground; this is the final stop. The couple holds hands, closes their eyes, and thinks of only one singular thought: the kids.

Joey feels a vibration in his pocket as he scrubs a plate thoroughly. He finishes washing it and puts it on the drying rack, drying his hands on a nearby towel. Who's calling me at this hour? He reaches into the pocket of his stained sweatpants; if you were in close proximity, a faint scent of tomato would be found. Behind him are two young children, one male and one female, lying silently on a carpet. Their eyes are closed, and small movements of their quiet snoring can be seen. Joey slowly makes his way toward an open door, making sure his movements make no sound. Once he closes the door behind him, he takes the call, the caller ID displaying "Unknown Caller."

"Hello?" begins Joey.

"Is this Joey Winger?" replies a voice, feminine in nature.

"Yes, this is. State your business." A small pause in silence appears. The voice then says solemnly, "Joey… your parents were found dead."

…

"WHAT?!" shouts Joey. His messy, short-length black hair gets ruffled up as he yells, closing his mouth when he realizes the kids are sleeping. Joey cups his hands toward the phone speaker and speaks quietly; sweat beads form on his forehead, eyebrows become perpendicular, and he emphasizes his anger. "What do you mean? Is this a joke? Who are you?"

The woman's voice begins speaking again. "I'm sorry, sir, but this is no prank. I'm a worker at McQuentin's Life Insurance; your parents were found dead today at 7:03 PM. An official at our company will elaborate on the situation and will arrive shortly with the details. I give you my condolences." Her tone is neutral, but it is clear she is hiding her sadness within. The line is cut. Joey lowers both of his arms, slowly hanging them as if he's given up on control. He gradually puts his hand on the doorknob, opens it, and trudges out like a zombie. He finds his way onto a couch next to the kids, lowers himself, and lays his back on the dark cushion. He looks at his phone's black screen once more and stares at his reflection. This can't be… they were supposed to come back, this was not supposed to happen. He stares at the two children lying down peacefully; he smiles a little, enjoying their blissful ignorance. What should I tell them? His expression quickly turns into a frown. He sinks even deeper into the cushion's embrace, relaxing his body even in this tense situation. He puts down his phone and stares into his open palms. They are slightly quivering from the shock of it all, he can't control them, they move on their own. This is a dream, it has to be. This is just one big nightmare… he pinches his arm, hoping to wake up, but no escape is to be found. Joey is welcomed into the harshness of reality with open arms, and with that, he looks up at the popcorn ceiling of the apartment, waiting for the insurance official.

A few minutes later, the doorbell echoes throughout the small apartment. Its loud rings linger and bounce across the kitchen, bathrooms, and finally into the living room. The three motionless humans in the living room thaw to life; the two kids rub their eyes and yawn, Joey does not. He moves quickly without hesitation, eager for answers. He opens the front door and sees a silhouette of a man with a briefcase. The man is dressed in a fashionable three-piece suit and wears a warm smile; wrinkles are seen on his old, yet wise-looking face.

"Can I come in?" the old man inquires.

"Yes… Yes! Come in." The differences in attire are staggering; Joey is wearing a white tank top, stained gray sweatpants, and a pair of plain white socks. Meanwhile, this man is clearly dressed professionally and has an aura of seriousness. He takes off his shoes and fedora, revealing gray hairs scattered across a sea of blonde. Joey gestures for him toward the living room; both arrive and settle down. The old man lets out a sigh of relief when finally lowered on the sofa, leaving no time to waste as he opens the briefcase. In it, he takes out two folders and hands them to Joey. The two folders have labels on them, reading "Jason Winger" and "Samantha Winger." Joey is oblivious to the practice of life insurance, but even he can deduce what these are. Joey stares at the beige folders as his eyes water but no tears come out. He puts on a mask of normalcy. Not in front of them. The two kids then reveal themselves from their hiding spot behind a chair at the kitchen table. The man shares a warm smile and waves toward them. Joey calls out to them, "Don't worry. This nice man is here to explain something to us. He means no harm." The two kids run toward Joey and land next to him on the couch. The small boy has a striped shirt and pajama pants on, while the girl has a quaint dress.

"Hi there, mister!" say both children, sharing enthusiastic waves. The suited man's smile faded quickly. His aura of seriousness that he exuded now multiplied; his posture weakened and his face wrinkled, making him look even older.

"Listen, my name is Ethan Marshall. I'm an official at McQuentin Life Insurance, and I'm the type to cut to the chase." The man takes a quick deep breath and holds his hands together. A quick pause of hesitation, as if weighing two options in his head. He opens his mouth, now having picked a path. "Both of your parents are dead." There lies no tone of emotion in his voice, he says it clearly and concisely like ordering food at a restaurant.

Joey stares down at the floor and twiddles his thumbs; he already knows this and is prepared. The oblivious kids are more vulnerable and show surprised expressions, eyes wide and mouths agape. Their once happy expressions expire, now there only lies raised eyebrows, looking towards their brother for an answer. The girl pulls on Joey's sleeve, "H-he's lying, right?"

"He's not, Mary. Mom and dad are… they're… gone." This realization hits the two young children like a hammer. Sniffles are heard from the young boy's direction, streams of snot run out of his two nostrils. The girl is no different; the two are now crying uncontrollably. The old man continues, ignoring their cries, "They died in a traffic accident on the freeway. Both corpses were found in the car. On the bright side, Joey has recently turned 18, meaning he can act as a guardian without the need for CPS to get involved." He attempts to try to make them positive, but looks at the shattered family. The man sees the three members of the Winger family, each looking miserable. The young boy is bawling into a coach cushion, smearing snot all over it. The girl is doing the same, except on the carpet. Joey looks composed on the surface, but his watery eyes and small shakes show otherwise. The man is used to sights like this, so he tries to reassure them. "Death is something that is unavoidable and unpredictable, that's why life insurance exists." He speaks with a louder tone, attracting the attention of the people in the room. "The insurance your parents bought has provided a good sum of money; this will take care of you guys for a while. I'll tell you an important thing…" The two kids have now stopped crying, and all three stare at the old, albeit some with snot covered faces.

"This is out of anyone's control, this situation is nobody's fault. I have seen this happen so many times to so many different families. It always sucks to break the bad news, but the truth is: it is best if you move on. Reality is cruel, and today the most important people in your lives will never be seen again." The kids' eyes begin to tear up again; this causes the man to let out a deep sigh and start up again before things turn south.

"I get it you want to mourn and cry the night out, but that won't solve anything. There is always a sunny side to every storm—" The man is cut off by Joey. His voice shakes.

"M-my PARENTS are dead, and you want me to be—be positive?! Are you nuts? What psychopath would be happy, would easily move on? I can never hug them ever; I can't talk to them again… The last thing my parents said to me was on this day."

Joey's burst of energy has now faltered, his mind reminiscing about all the memories of his parents.

"And what did they say? Tell me, what were their final words?"

"...Take care of Mary and Ryan," Joey says, hugging them close. All three of them are crying in equal magnitude.

"So listen to them. Do you think your parents would want you to mourn their death forever or to keep moving forward?"

Mary and Ryan try to intervene, still crying yet trying to assert their point. "Mom and Dad would want us to miss them! They always say they miss us when we leave…" says Mary. 

Ryan adds on while standing up straight and pointing a finger at the man, "Yeah! Dad said it is ok to cry when bad things happen!" 

The man comes over and puts a hand on each of their shoulders before turning towards Joey. He nods at him, communicating with his body.

"They would—they would… want us to move forward." Joey says slowly he ponders about what his parents would want him to do and knows they would ask him to persevere. "I know that with all my heart."

The man stands up straight. "Exactly; this sudden tragedy doesn't have to be the end of your lives. Use the life insurance money wisely. Just because the world knocks you off the intended path doesn't mean you won't arrive at your destination." The old man now projects his voice even louder. "Now is the opportunity to live on their legacy; this is just another challenge in your lives you must overcome. But… (he looks towards the two kids) It is okay to cry. Just remember to never give up, for your parents' sake." The man walks toward Joey; Joey looks up to see an earnest look on his face. He puts his hands on his mouth and crouches down to head level. He speaks in a soft tone, whispering in his ear. "The insurance money is inside your bank account; the transaction has already been completed. It's… a lot, but not infinite. You'll need to work hard and find a well-paying job to maintain this household. I know the transition is sudden, but if you ever need help, my business card is also there. Call me if you ever need help or advice about finance or anything else."

And with that, the man does not pick his briefcase back up. He turns one last time and gets a good look at the family. They all look terrible, but much better than he expected. Joey doesn't look like he'll collapse, and the little ones have wiped away their tears. "Remember, never give up, that's what Mom and Dad would do!" Suddenly, they start to smile, and they wave goodbye. He waves back and puts on his hat. Opening the door and making a call gesture towards Joey before closing the door behind him.

A sniffling Ryan goes up to Joey. "Big bro, what do we do now? Is everything going to be okay?"

Joey flashes a false smile. "It's going to be alright; we'll live even without Mom and Dad." The two kids hug Joey even tighter. Joey reaches into the briefcase and analyzes the business card. Its black shine shows only the number of Ethan Marshall. I need to get a job, take care of the house, and do all the things Mom and Dad did. He picks up a massive pile of papers, the front paper containing a job description and application form for carpentry. The moment Joey looks at the papers, his smile fades, and a hopeless look manifests. Joey always knew reality was hard and difficult, but he never expected something of this caliber. Time to learn stuff the hard way.

He prepares the two kids for sleep, reassuring them that everything would be safe. After he turns off the light in their room and tucks them into bed, he looks back and notices small movement within each bed. Can't go to sleep, huh? Who would after what just happened? Joey then makes his way toward his own room, briefcase in hand. He puts it down with a thud and takes a seat. It is time to start job hunting, but he will not do it alone. He pulls out his cell phone and punches in the numbers on the business card; it comes to life with a ring. He puts the speaker up to his ear once someone picks up the call and waits with anticipation, tapping his fingers on the dusty wooden table.

"Hello, Joey," says Mr. Marshall.

"Hey, Mr. Insurance dude."

"Please, call me Ethan."

"Okay, Ethan. What job should I do?"

"Well, that's a decision you have to make yourself, but I can try to help you out."

The pair go into a discussion about working and the pros and cons of jobs; Joey details his skill set in depth to the life insurance official. An awkward silence appears. Ethan is the first to talk.

"So, you haven't graduated highschool yet…"

"Yeah, graduation won't be for a while." 

"Are your grades any good?" 

"They are uhhhh, there?"

Ethan takes that as a no

"Your skill set is… very lackluster, to say the least. You are good with physical jobs, but those need some prior experience and knowledge."

Joey hangs his head in shame, not being the first time hearing similar words.

"I understand, but is there at least any capable position I can work in?"

"Unfortunately, most decently paying jobs require a high school diploma at the very least. How about this, sort through ones that need highschool degrees or seem too difficult to do."

Joey trifles through the list of job recommendations residing within the briefcase. He looks at each one, noticing that many of them require a high school level education. Any job without that requirement needs expertise in fields Joey has low proficiency in. He squeezes the cell phone tighter; his tone increases in aggressiveness.

"Minimum wage won't cut it! Do you think I can at least survive until graduation on minimum wage?"

"Not at this moment, considering rent, luxuries, and utilities for three people, you won't be able to handle it."

A noticeable and heavy sigh comes from Joey; he begins slouching in a tattered chair in the room. He bites his lip and begins fiddling with a nearby pen.

"So… what do I do then?"

Ethan pauses; papers rustle from the other side of the call.

"One solution is to take the two kids into a foster home; less people, lower cost—"

Joey cuts him off. He stood up abruptly, causing some items to fall off the desk.

"NO, we HAVE to stick together."

Ethan is seen sorting through an assortment of papers, each containing a job description. The pile he is ruffling through gets thinner and thinner, the papers flying in the air. Finally, one last piece of paper is seen. Ethan picks it up and puts his phone back to his mouth.

"...Well, there is one more job you could do. You don't need a degree or prior academic knowledge. This might be a bit difficult though."

Joey puts the phone to his ear and listens attentively. He begins sweating nervously, Difficult? How difficult is it?  Ethan elaborates on what he means, and he understands what he meant by "difficult". The words are too quiet to make out, but Joey is seen nodding his head a few times.

"If this is the only option… I guess this is the only chance I got at a normal life."

"Now don't make any decisions you'll regret, trust me I know what'll happen. This job is risky, and it'll take a lot of effort, it might be too much to ha- Hello?"

The moment Joey heard "too much" he tapped the red button on his phone. He stands up and sets the phone down, pacing around and thinking. He stops and puts his hands up, staring at them as he turns them into fists. His blood rushes into his hands; his skin warms up, his face glows with determination. One job, one opportunity to maintain this family. I can do it—no. I WILL do it, who cares if it's "Too much". He walks toward a counter; a framed photo of the Winger family is seen, on each person's face is a smile. Joey looks at a mirror and stares deeply at himself, narrowing his eyes. This is the only job I can do that can make enough money for us to stay together. I'll make Mom and Dad proud; I will show them what I'm capable of! I'll become… a fighter!