My past. Painful enough to making me not wanting to remember.

-You're saying that you're my sister, right?

-Yes, I believe it's true... -her deep blue eyes seemed to shine a little bit as she was moved by it. She didn't seem a person who would be moved by such a situation, she was just a cold person.

-I was just another dumped kid in that house. I remember looking at Sister Magdalene and realizing she was the close to family that I ever had. Ever since I came there I was her favorite, because of that the other kids were mean to me. Later I realized it wasn't because i was her favorite but because they feared me and yet I never knew why. When I was six a french family came and wanted me to be their daughter. The Chevallier were good people.

-What do you mean by "were"?

-They are resting now. They taught me all they knew. I started taking ballet lessons, appreciating Vivaldi and Dvorak, reading Rousseau and Kant. I learned a lot with them and suddenly... -I didn't thought I was strong enough to continue yet we were just in the beginning. - and suddenly it was all blowned away. That night was stormy and I woke up and ran to their bed, I thought they were asleep and the bed was slightly wet. When I woke up I realized they that they hadn't woke up yet and I looked at my hand because I felt them sticky. They were red, almost brown. The blood was drying and I screamed as I realized it.

I stood from my bed and walked to the window. The memory teared me apart inside. The sun was bright and cold.

-Blanche and Jacques Chevallier died that night...

A long silence settled and I felt like falling apart. Those memories where inside of me for so long, I kept them in my chest and now there are all flying around, cutting my heart and kicking me down.

-I returned to England and to Saint Mary Foster Home when I was eight. Sister Magdalene took me in again with her arms open. Days later another family came by, the Harrisons, and they were enchanted by me. I keep quiet reading and forming a world in me. I didn't wanted to be adopted, I didn't want anyone to die. I wanted to stay with Sister Magdalene. - I took a deep breath and proceeded- They took me anyways and only months later we appeared on the news with the awful title of "Man beat up his wife to death and killed myself in front of their child". Death seemed to be closer to me than Sister Magdalene, everyone who tried to have me would die in a inexplicable way. The kids started to call me Rohe, like the goddess of the spirit world who introduced black magic and death to the world. I guess they do keep attention to their lessons...