Before you get too invested in this story: I am NOTHING like my father...I guess that was a lie; I do have his dark hair and eyes, but other than that: nothing. I hardly pass any of my classes—I’m horrible at solving clues and puzzles, and I’m one of the most unobservant people I know. I can’t play a violin to save my life—or any instrument for that matter. I can gut gore, and ghastly scenes I really shouldn’t have seen under the age of 15, but I have no interest in it. That’s Adam.

      Adam Watson loves crime, he loves the adventure, the adrenaline, the thinking, the putting the pieces together. And in turn, everyone loves him. Adam is exactly what everyone expected, and therefore wanted, me to be. My dad even took Adam under his wing as a protege. They do pretty much everything together, and when they get high, I’m there to clean Adam up and make it look like he’s sick or something. 

      Right, something else: my upbringing was WEIRD. Really weird. I knew what it was like to get high at 13, and I hated every second of it. I know how to pick a lock with just about anything small enough, and how to get out of any knot. My dad wouldn’t let me leave the house if I didn’t know how to test my drinks for date rape drugs, have at least a little immunity to poision, and have hand-to-hand combat skills as muscle memory. I only realized it was so weird when Adam was first learning, and suddenly I was showered with praise from my father from knowing it at such a young age. I don’t know how he is now, but last time i checked: Adam could do all the crime solving in the world, but couldn’t climb a fence without spraining his ankle. 

      I remember pushing a lot of people out when I was young—especially when I was a teenager, and people thought I’d eventually realize my knack for crime-solving. Even when I did help out, they would nudge me and say: “your mom always was clever, I knew you’d do it”. So they a)thought I was stupid, and b)thought I had mommy issues. My mother died when I was very young, so I never really missed her. But that’s just me—probably the closest I’ll get to my father personality-wise, too.

      Anyway, I pushed people out A LOT. I didn’t have any friends in school, except for Adam, but I started drifting away from him when I was around 14. I did horribly in school because I took classes based on other peoples’ perception of me—my schedule was filled with classes on law and criminology—so I skipped. Actually, I was probably skipping a forensics class when I met Emma. I thought she was ditching too—she was way too pretty, and I’d never seen her before in either the few times I did attend class, or the hundred times I had paced that hall. I found out soon that she was lost, and was actually looking for the art wing. I still remember smiling because all the attractive people are in the art courses. 

      I had considered art, but I didn’t have the audacity. My uncle is the most powerful man in England after all, I knew better than to bring the family name to that. That being said, I never did give Emma my last name. Only a first, a little throw in the wind—afterall, there really aren’t many ‘Victoria’s. She found me at lunch, and insisted she eat with me. She told me she was into ballet, and was obviously passionate about Van Gogh. And when I told her I didn’t like Van Gogh much, she skipped her next class to tell me why she would respect my wrong opinion, yet try to make me see the light. 

     Somewhere in those moments, I realized I was in love with Emma. I took up ballet with her instead of fencing—I already knew too much about fencing, my father had engrained it into me. I taught myself how to paint, and started at least attending class. I did get into doodling when I was bored, and actually found it increased my concentration in class. When my father found this out, I think he got a little too excited about my career, and wanted to take me on cases. Luckily I had the "after school activity" card to play. When I couldn't get out of it, I'd bring paper, and either draw out how the dance was supposed to go via different lines, or doodle. 

     I moved out as soon as Emma found us a place—I don't know how she did it, but she ended up working a job and going to schcool at the same time, while I got so engulfed in my hobbies that the world around me seemed to disappear. 

     Apparently, moving to Scotland, cutting ties with everyone in London, and dedicating my soul to ballet paid off. I got contracts without going to Uni, and traveled around. Maybe I didn't need to cut ties with EVERYBODY—John was always sweet and understanding to me, but I felt better once I did.