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When I was ten my grandfather went insane and killed my mother. My father was some sort of transient who had raped my mother near the tracks. He was most likely insane, too.

At this point in my story, only three sentences long, you may be thinking, "Oh, her poor mother." Don't think that, because she was also insane. While most people truly aren't "asking for it", she was. Literally. She walked the tracks hoping to find a transient who would rape her. She knew my grandfather was unstable and continued to goad him. She even handed him the knife.

Now I'm on my third paragraph and maybe you're thinking, "Oh, that poor girl." This time you're right. Poor me. I'm only sixteen, and I am waiting for the insanity bomb to drop. Any second now. Genetics cannot be avoided. As sure as my eyes are hazel and my hair is blond and my knees are knobby, I will go insane.