Personal Narrative-Changing Experience With Dr. Clove's Death?

I suppose I was only about 15 when it happened and recently it occurred to me how surreal the whole situation was. If you saw a picture of me there would probably be a slight shiver in the back of your mind, then you'd recognise me, you might be a little unsure at first, but, yes, it was me on the news.

Anyway, I thought they didn’t like me, never-mind love me, especially with a name like Malcolm. Distant, emotionless, withdrawn and the only time they would communicate with me was when I didn’t meet their standards. I don’t care any more though, because its all changed now.

September- a time where the leaves lay lifeless. My spirit synonymous to theirs. I hated school, just like any other teenager and the years weren’t fading away like they said, they clenched tightly onto every last minute not letting an hour pass which didn’t contain murmurs of misery muttered by every pupil. That is exactly how I felt until I met Dr. Clove, my new teacher. Psychology had always interested me, plus, I wanted to know what went on

Dr. Clove was a punctual man who for the past few weeks had come back at exactly 5.30pm, not a minute before, not a minute after. However, it was now quarter to six and I still hadn't heard the latch loosen, and I began to get agitated, where was he? I thought by turning on the television it would take my mind off things but I was disrupted by another “Breaking News,” it was déjà vu yet this time the tone of voice was no longer frantic but sombre. “Human remains have been found, identified as the missing boy, Malcolm Simmons.” What? Me? No, it can't be I deduced. My confusion increased, how could any of it be real? The news reporter explained that the body had severe burns, been decapitated but had identity badge of the 15 year old missing