AN: So I have decided to re-post this story. I am doing some edits along the way, but I'm sure most of you won't even remember it because it has been a couple of years since it was last up. I ask politely that you do not take my work. It is special to me. I took a lot of time to do this. Please respect it. I really do love reviews, so please send them my way. Spread this to all of your FictionPress friends so that they may enjoy it too.

Introduction

There are times in everyone's life when they must grow up. Where childish toys and laughter must be given up for the sake of survival. A time when a boy becomes a man and a girl becomes a woman. There will be an event that shows a teen that immaturity will get you no where in the closing future. The only difference between me and all those other teens is that my time of maturity came much earlier.

When I was a child, I was happy all the time. I had a best friend and a family that loved me. I ran, played, and giggled. My soul was as free as the bird flies. I thought life was about having fun and as much of it as you can. I figured that no matter what, nothing can take away the bliss I felt.

I, sadly, was wrong.

When I turned six, my parents were killed in a car accident. I had over heard the police officer say the accident was intentional. That someone murdered my parents. I cried every night until my brother and I were sent to a child protection agency. From there they gave us to a man to look after us until I turned eighteen and got my inheritance.

This man made me grow up. He wasn't the happy adoptive father every orphan dreamed of. Oh no, he was very much the opposite. He was dirty from the start. He wasn't fat or anything, in fact he was quit clean. What made him dirty were his deeds. Ignoring the fact that this man did horrible things to get paid, he also beat my brother and I. That first told me that things wouldn't be the same.

During the first four months of living with that man, I lost my best friend, I drew away from all people except my twin, and pain became my new best friend. I was no longer the princess my real father told me I would be forever. I was now a servant trying to survive every punch to the stomache. I no longer wore fabulous clothing. Instead, baggy black cloth was all I was aloud. My brother and I no longer smiled. Instead, we would grimace at every lifted hand.

We told no one what happened and no one asked. People forgot we were even there. The kids I grew up with never knew we walked in the same halls a them. Everyday, my twin brother and I would watch the children and remember the old days. But soon, just like us, the old days were forgotten. All we knew after some time was work, hit, work, punch, work, kick, work, and work.

Yes, I grew up quick when my parents died. Sometimes I would blame them for getting themselves killed. That they were stupid enough to make a powerful, unknown person so mad that they had to commit murder to get rid of the anger. I wanted to hate my birth mother and father for what they did to their own children. But then I would finger the only piece of them I had left, a necklace, and all anger would leave me immediately.

I had to grow up because as a child I would die. I had to be strong because weakness would end with me in a box. I had to be silent, hidden, and alone because every moment I wasn't was a moment a fist would meet my cheek. For my brother and no one else, I had to live the life as an adult in a teenager's body.