Smoke still litters the sky from the day of The Accident. It was an accident… that’s what our government officials tell us at least. Now they’ve all fallen silent. I step onto the road out of the city, the gravel crunching beneath my weathered crocs.

My red backpack with the faded JanSport logo weighs so much. I suppose it makes sense, for I collect the bones that litter the streets from the nigh...

I walk into the living room, once again feeling the claustrophobia from my stupid stuffy house. Dad gathered us all here for some reason, but sweat drips down my neck as it is the first time our family has been in the same room, since he died. He brought us all together but after he was gone, we realized how different we were.

Mom is sitting on the couch, trying to avoid an argument I have to sit...