I Hate Rich People

San Diego California: Being a poor person sure does suck, especially if you don't have any parents to help support you either. My parents both died in a car crash, because of them choosing to have some tongue on tongue crap right without turning on auto-drive. You can imagine what happened afterward. They collided with another car at over 90 mph, and both of them died instantly. Quite a lame way to die, right? The left me Dagon Crossfield behind at the young age of 8. I ended up at an orphanage because nobody wanted to take me in. Later on, when I finally turned 18, I was able to leave the orphanage and of course, wasn't ready to go to college because of the orphanage not being able to afford it for everyone including me. Luckily, I was able to get a job as a waiter for Downtown Eastern Cusine, even though I was white, the manager didn't care and still gave me the job. I will always remember that man for his kindness.

Also, thankfully, because of my blond hair, blue eyes, and a toned body helped with getting better tips from females. And I was also able to develop manners and other characteristics that helped with interacting with people. With the little money, I made I just barely managed to cling on to my daily life necessities. Despite my good lucks I didn't work out that much and spent most of my time playing FPS games and sword fighting games on my Neron Headset Gear. I especially liked sword fighting games and was able to develop some skills. I preferred to use a Great Longsword and destroying my enemies with my skills or by just pure force. Two years passed by just like that for me, and I was still working as a waiter for the same restaurant, but I was okay with it since I was perfectly fine as long as I had my games. However, one particular day when I got off work at 10:00 p.m it was a quiet clear night with the moon hanging over the sky.

The fathers or mothers of their families were rushing towards their cars to go back home to see their families. Nobody was waiting at home for me, not even a pet because the landlord didn't allow them. When I got to the parking lot, I was greeted by my Z100 truck on the first floor. I started my car and pulled out of the parking lot and made my way back to my crappy apartment in the outer rim of the city. I was driving towards the intersection when this expensive green supercar came speeding down the road into the intersection. The person must have been drunk because they were swerving all over the road. I tried to move out of the way, but my slow ass car couldn't move quick enough so the drunk person slammed right into my car and both of us were thrown directly into the ditch on the side of the road.

All I felt was my entire body aching, my head felt like a microwave when I tried to get up. I saw my reflection in a piece of shard glass, I had small cuts all over my body, and I had an extended cut on my back that would probably become a scar. I managed to get out of my car and saw the supercar 5 yards away from me. Despite my injuries, I still felt mostly anger because the person fucked up my car and probably lost me my job with the condition I was in. "You asshole do you realize what you have just done!" I was yelling at the driver inside; however, they probably were unconscious, so not like my yelling did anything. I began to move towards the car to see who was inside, to my surprise it was a woman who looked to be in her early twenties who had black hair and brown eyes, but it was hard to get a good description her because of the injuries on her body. I tried to get her out, not necessarily to help her desperately, but more of me wanting to let out my frustration on her. I just was barely able to get her out of her electro seatbelt; with the last bit of my strength, I was able to pull her out of the supercar. I wanted to start yelling at her as soon as I pulled her out; however, my entire body ached, and I could no longer move. The last thing I heard was sirens and footsteps coming towards us as I finally went unconscious.