My name is Olivia Brown. I am seventeen years old. And my parents were just killed in a car crush.

And no, that's not a typo. They were not killed in a car crash. They were literally killed in one of those big car crusher things you find at the junkyard.

It had been a normal day like any other, except that this day was a Thursday. A normal, boring day at school. Nothing was out of place until after school had finished, and it was time to go home. For some reason, my mother was not there to pick me up like she usual did. I waited around for about 15 minutes, and tried calling her on the phone, but she didn't answer. Eventually, after trying her phone for the sixth time without her answering, I got bored of waiting and took the subway home.

When I arrived back home, I could see that my parents' car was not parked out front of the house like usual. I assumed my mum was just running late and I had missed her outside school, but she still didn't answer her phone.

With a frustrated sigh I went into the house through the front door. I called out as I dropped my bag by the door, and still got no response, so headed through to the kitchen to get a snack. That's when I realised that something was wrong.

The window in the back door was broken. There were shards of glass scattered on the floor. And on some of the bits of glass, there was a splattering of blood.

I stopped and stared at the spots of blood on the floor. What had happened, I wondered. Had my mum had an accident and hurt herself? Maybe she was at the hospital now, and that's why she hadn't picked me up from school?

My eyes scanned across the kitchen floor, and I spotted a trail of blood drops leading away from the back door. The trail went across the kitchen towards the sink. And there, on the drainer beside the sink, there was...

I froze in shock at what I saw. There was a gun.

It was sitting there on the kitchen counter. An actual real gun. Next to the sink, along with a bloodstained tea towel. The cupboard nearby with the plasters and medical supplies was also open.

My brain began to spin with confusion and panic. What the heck was a gun doing in our kitchen? And who did it belong to? I knew there was no way it belonged to my parents. So whose was it?

We had moved to New York from England, three years ago. Because of that, my parents didn't believe in having guns in the house. So I knew it couldn't belong to them. It had to belong to someone else. But who, and were they still in the house?

Slowly, and without making a sound, I carefully crept back out of the house. If there were still some dangerous people inside, I didn't want to meet them. As soon as I reached the front door, I ran. Sprinting as fast as I could across the street to our neighbour's house.

I saw old Mr Jones coming out of his side gate as I ran towards him.

"Hello, Olivia," he called out as I got closer. "Is everything okay?"

"Something bad has happened," I said, with a trembling voice. "There's a gun... and blood."

A look of concern flashed over Mr Jones' kindly face. "Get inside," he said, sternly. "I'll call the police."

I went in through the side gate that lead to their back garden, and then through the door at the back into the kitchen. Mrs Jones looked up with a smile, that was quickly replaced with concern as she saw the look of fear on my face.

Mr Jones followed me inside a few moments later. "The police are on their way," he said.

He went over to the kitchen window and watched across the street, while I stood in the back of the kitchen with Mrs Jones. She had her arm around me, and gently stroked my shoulder.

It didn't seem to take long, just a few minutes in fact, before we heard the sound of sirens approaching.

Mr Jones glanced down at his watch. "That was quick," he said.

I went closer to the window so I could see what was happening. A police car screeched to a stop on the road outside, quickly followed by two unmarked police cars with their lights flashing. The doors all opened, and six police officers jumped out with their guns drawn.

The two uniformed policemen headed around the back of the house, while the four detectives went to the front door. We could hear them shouting from across the street, so we took a couple of steps back away from the window to feel safe.

Everything went silent for a while, until we heard a knock at the front door. Mr Jones went to answer it, and came back a minute later with one of the detectives following him. He was quite tall and attractive, and was wearing a smart looking shirt underneath his bulletproof vest.

"Are you Olivia?" he asked as he looked at me.

"Yes," I said, feeling slightly confused.

"I'm Detective Jay Collins, N.Y.P.D. It looks like your parents have been kidnapped," he said. "But I want to reassure you that we will do all we can to find them. We are already checking on the location of the tracker."

"Thank you. I, ummm..." I was relieved, but at the same time, there was something odd about what he had said.

"Wait... what tracker? What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, that's not important right now," said Jay. "We should have their location soon."

Before I could ask again, another detective came through from outside. A slightly younger looking woman, with dark wavy hair.

"They've got a location from the GPS," she said. "It's showing as a junkyard in the south of Brooklyn."

"Okay. Martinez, you watch the girl. The rest of us will roll out to Brooklyn," said Jay.

~~~~~

That was two weeks ago, I was now standing beside their graves watching their coffins being lowered down. I was wearing a black dress, and tears were streaming down my cheeks.

They had found my parents car in the crusher at the junkyard. They were both still inside the car. My mum was in the backseat, and my dad was in the trunk. The police told me that their hands had been tied together and they were blindfolded, but they were both still conscious when the crusher had started. Whoever it was that killed them had wanted them to suffer.

As they finished lowering the coffins, the priest said his final prayer and they started to shovel the dirt into the hole. I looked down as my parents disappeared from view, and that was when I swore that I would have my revenge.