Why did this have to happen to me? Why not somebody else? I used to be so happy. No one could put me down, not ever. But that was before my parents died. On a warm day in October my parents left for a convention in New York, leaving me with my babysitter at the time; Maurice. Stay here they said, don’t go anywhere, you’ll be just fine, we’ll be back by tomorrow. But they weren’t back the day after. I waited. After something like 5 days, Maurice left. I kept waiting, though, kept telling myself that they would be back tomorrow, just have hope. But after a month I couldn’t anymore. I started to cry myself to sleep. Food got scarce. And it was then when that man came in. He had a bushy mustache, he was tall and slender, with a police uniform. He told me my parents had died. This confirmed all of my fears, I didn’t know what to do, so I just cried for my mother, who would never another sunset again. I cried for my father, because he would never get to travel to all those foreign countries like he wanted to. And I cried for myself, because my parents were gone. When I finished, the policeman took me to ST. George’s School for Boys. And now after 5 years, I still am here waiting for someone to find me, but nobody has, and I have no reason to believe that they ever will.