I'm already getting off topic

I shouldn't have done that, gone off about Rose before talking about myself first. But I did tell you that I'm bad at telling stories. But now that I have told the beginning of the proxies, I should tell the beginning of me.

I have been around this world a long time. As such, my information has been scattered around several blogs. I am not exactly secretive about my past, but it never struck me as something I needed to mention in any concrete detail.

I suppose that was wrong of me, so now I shall try to correct that.

I was born in Texas. On a horse ranch my parents owned. I figure I would have owned it eventually too, if things had turned out differently. It had been in the family for a while. I assume at some point my father must have tried to get away, because while I have forgotten most things about him I remember that he must have gone to college. Because that was where he met Dubois.

Alexander Dubois was a friend of my father's. I remember him all too well. He would come around often, and he and my dad would talk about their time at school. But I loved him too, because he was one of the few adults who paid attention to me.

I suppose I was an offputting child. I remember when I was ten I became fascinated with the stove and put my hand on it. Unlike most children, I didn't take it off. I still have the scar to prove this. But Dubois didn't mind, he even seemed to approve of it. He caught me skinning a squirrel once and instead of yelling at me said that he wouldn't tell my parents and flashed me a secret smile. I adored him. And when he asked me to go home with him one day, I didn't even blink.

Instead of the sleepover I had thought would occur, I was drugged and woke up in the basement that would be my home for eight years.

Dubois admired my strength, you see. And he was a teacher. He made this clear regardless of what was being done to me. It was to make me strong. And although I hated him for it, I also knew he was right.

I killed him eventually, escaped the basement and made my way into the larger world. I would love to say that I adjusted well. But it would be false. Pain and blood was all I knew. So when I needed food, I took it. My hunger left a body count, and the police came after me. That's when I discovered that Dubois had done what he said he would. I was strong, so strong it took four fully trained police officers to take me down. But I was taken down, eventually. If life had gone differently, I could have very well gone to Death Row. But where I was being held, there was also an officer. He was an opportunist, and worked for any side that would pay him. He took an interest in me. Broke me out. And introduced me to a facility that would give me skills and teach me how and when to use them.

And that's how I became an assassin.