My name is Frank. I'm 16 years old and boy am I fucked up. Let me tell you just why I am and how I came to live here. In New Jersey, rather than LA.

About 2 months ago, my Dad loaded my little brother Jake into his car seat, taking him for a drive in an attempt to get him to sleep. He was being a typical two year old and wouldn't go down. He said he'd be about 20 minutes. An hour later, we were getting increasingly worried. My dad was a man of his word. When he said he'd be 20 minutes, he normally would be. There was a knock at the door and both me and mum went to answer. There stood a police officer, I could sense what was coming and I didn't like it, not one bit.

"Mrs Iero? Wife of Dave Iero and mother to Jake Iero?" He asked and my mother nodded,

"Yes." She added, barely audibly.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your husband and son have been involved in a fatal car accident. They are both currently in a coma at the local hospital. Would you like me to take you down there?" He explained, way to calmly for my liking. It seemed like he did this kind of thing everyday and it didn't phase him at all. A lump had grown in my throat and I felt sick as his words sunk in.

"Yes." I answered for mum. She was silently crying next to me, unable to talk. I grabbed her coat, wrapped it around her shoulders and we followed the officer to his car.

We arrived at the hospital and I couldn't look at the sight that met my eyes. There was my dad, laying motionless in the hospital bed, covered in wires and tubes, his face cut, almost unrecognisable. Next to him, in a cot-like bed, laid Jake, his frail tiny body equally motionless, also covered in wires tubes and wounds. I wanted to cry, but I had to stay strong for mum, who had collapsed in sobs at their bedsides. A nurse walked in.

"I'm sorry, but we have to tell you. They are both brain dead. The kindest thing to do for them, would be to turn the life support off." She said in her soft, kind voice. My mum simply nodded, before erupting into more sobs. We said our goodbyes, kissing their forehead, knowing we would never see them again. We gathered round the beds as the machines were switched off. We watched them slip away, away from us, away from life.

Once we had made our way home numbly and I was in my bedroom, I finally let the tears fall freely. I couldn't hold them in any longer. Why had this happened to US? We were such a happy family. Were being the operative word. After the funeral my mum announced we'd be moving to New Jersey. She couldn't stand living in the place where she had lost her husband and son. So, here we are.

I've always been an outcast. In LA no one liked me, no one understood me. They didn't like the music, the fashion. I was always on my own. No friends to talk to. I didn't care though. I got used to it after a while. Now, it was different. I was grieving the loss of my dad and brother. I needed someone to talk to, other than my mum. I knew that here it would be just the same though. Maybe I was just destined to be on my own. I was depressed. That's why I was on Anti-depressants.

I looked at the bottle, sitting on my bedside table, full of the little white pills.

You know, it wouldn't be so hard to take an overdose, get away from this lonely place. Join my dad and Jake. 

You can't. Your mum needs you now more than ever. Give this place a chance. Maybe you'll find friends. People to talk to.

I gave in to the urge and reached for the bottle. I took the recommended dose. Not an overdose. I laid back on my new bed, in this new place, falling into a deep sleep...I'd give this place a chance, but I doubt that it will be any different...