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644 Words
If I'm being completely honest, I don't even rememberer my name. The first name I remember being called was K.
I only remember in phrase from that time: "Good girl K. You're such a good girl. Like an Angel."
That's all remember. That and a blurry face. A blurry face with distorted features that seem to be seen so vague.
But it always to be smiling. A smiling face, with a warm voice. But that was a very long time ago.
I think I was about two. Very young.
The next name I remember was someone calling me Sarah. That face is very blurry too. The person who called me Sarah wasn't malicious, but they weren't warm, either.
Maybe I was about five or so then.
The next name I remember, is Valerie. I remember that face. It was an older woman, who smiled very kindly at me, and an older man who did the same.
The next name I remember was...Maureen. The one I use now. It was during the best time of my life. A mid-aged woman who loved me very much called me Maureen.
She told me that I looked like her daughter, who was 'taken to heaven too soon'. She called my by her name.
She always said that. She said that even though she knew I was not her daughter that she believed our spirit was the same.
I remember her distinctly.
She was kind, and loving, like the first woman. I lived with her for a very long time, in a small country village. I don't know what country it was.
After that, the woman got sick and passed away. I was taken somewhere by people in suits and ties to another woman.
The name she gave me...was Emilia. I remember her most. She treated me with disgust. She told me I was a princess.
"Thank you," I remember smiling.
"It's not a compliment, child. It's a fact. Now stop smiling. Princesses don't smile that wide."
I stayed with her for a very long time. I learned to fit in with British royal society. I became Princess Emilia the Second Of Wales.
Whether that's who I am or not, I do not know. And though, with the technology available today, it would be moderately easy to discover I am not interested.
I've lived that life. It's not as glamorous as it seems.
I could not laugh. I could not play. I could by smile too wife. I could not drink soda. I couldn't have sweets. My calories were strictly counted. I had a rigorous schedule, that if I missed I was severely punished.
I could not have friends, but I was required to have many acquaintances. I was not to talk too much or too little.
All for the sake of the woman who claimed she raised me. That I owed her as much.
I lived that life from the time I was about eight, to the time I was about twenty.
I fled to the US shortly after.
I don't know how old I am, exactly. I only know the range. I do not know who my parents were, what happened to them, if they are alive.
I don't know my country of origin.
I don't know my name.
I do not know...anything really. But I'm too afraid to reasearch it.
So I'm Maureen, a twenty-five year old woman from the US.
That's who I am, in case you're wondering. And I love a man named scar.
According the government of British, I am a Queen.
I don't know about that.
I just know that I'm Maureen. That's all I am.
That's all I want to be. Maureen who has a mother who was older when she gave birth to a small daughter who she loved very much.
That's all I am.
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Backstory!!' What do you think?
- Writer
