I was born December 8th. It was snowing. A lot.
No one, absolutely no one, knew that I was going to be a girl. I always thought my parents dreamed over and over that I would be a boy that could compete with the already male Delton in the family, Leonardo. Nonetheless, I was their great deception. They were not expecting to see a little girl within the blankets when the nurses handed them, their child. It was tough luck. Now there was a probability that the other brothers or sisters would have another male child. Either way, they were not interested in a female. They did not want to raise a girl. They found it pointless. After all, women in the Delton family married rich and that was their purpose in life.
Of course, I never noticed any of this. I would be reminded of my "tragic" first year of life by my grandmother on a daily basis. She would often say 'because you didn't see your mother's face when she found out your sex, oh! the horror!' and she laughed.
A year after my birth, my parents got their wish: they had a boy. However, as a busy couple of society they failed to give him as much attention as they wanted to give him. They did conmemorate his existence and they did spoil him on a daily basis, but still he didn't receive as much parental love as he deserved. In return, I saw my little brother as the family jewel. From the first moment I saw him, I loved him with every fiber of my being. I wanted to protect that little baby whose eyes stared right at my own. I wanted to be an example to him, someone he could look up to, someone he would also love. I knew what would be my role towards this neoborn: I was his big sister.
Talking about knowing what I had to do. I was a very advanced toddler. By the time Eric was born I could talk, walk, and was well aware of my sense of self. In other words, I was no average one year old. My grandmother noticed, my grandfather noticed, but my parents simply ignored that their child had practically learned to talk on her own.
I took my role as big sister very seriously. I wanted to be someone Eric could depend on. And, even though my parents tried to ignore my existence, they were just indifferent, they were never cruel, and from time to time they would make sure I had what a healthy child should have. I never thought they hated me. Quite the contrary, I think they saw me as a challenge that they never had the courage to face. In various occassions my mother would take a brush and try to touch my hair, but she would panic and would later talk to me in a week or two. I didn't mind as long as I was needed. If they needed me to be Eric's entertainment, I was content. If they needed me to be in the house, I was happy. It didn't matter if they didn't love me as I loved them, but they were my parents and I felt that somehow I had to protect them from their own fear.
As I grew, I was happy with my cousins and other Delton family members. There was no way I would ever let go of those great moments of life when I could run about free and laugh out loud. I really enjoyed my childhood.
As a Delton child, I was very privileged. I would sleep in a mansion when a great party was being held in the first floor. I would sneak away from my bedroom and I would sigh with delight as I saw the beautiful dresses, the diamonds, the sparlking life of the high society. I wondered how I would grow up to be and if I would also be able to wear such sublime clothing with as much ease as these people did. I was four when I accompanied my mother to a fashion show she had been invited to, and I fell in love with it all. I wanted to design, I wanted to draw, I wanted to create! I also wanted an excuse to have my mother admire me and acknowledge me. If she loved the designs, she would surely notice me. I desperately wanted her approval.
These were not the thoughts a little child was supposed to have. At the age of five I had discovered my love for fashion, but I had also discovered that I was very particular. I understood high level math. I could follow patterns and complete equations. It was not difficult for me to create completely logical conclusions from previously set premises. I was different, and I was scared. I had already acquired a very particualr passion for reading, and that had not gone unnoticed.
"You are very strange indeed, Lucille." My grandmother was the only one who would ever address me on those particular subjects.
"Why is that grandma?" I would tilt my head and pretend I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Don't play dumb with me, Lucille. It is alright. I have noticed. You are very much like me. Extraordinarily smart. That is important, Lucille Marie. We need to polish those skills of yours. I will take care of that."
At that moment, I didn't know what she meant, but I feared I would find out soon enough. As a result, I tried to spend as much time with my brother and family. What would happen with me? I never feared my grandmother like the rest of my family, but I knew she thrilled in creating havoc. A few months after our chat, I thought nothing would come of it. I kept pretending I was normal. I trained my hand to follow a series of patterns that would create alluring designs for those who viewed them. It made me happy to see that I had enough talent to be an artist.
It all came to an end when I was seven. My grandmother had single handedly convinced my parents that I should be trained with the best of the best, in an institute that would polish my engineering skills. I was seven when father and mother left me to fend for myself, all alone in Italy, in some institute.
The years that followed were very strange. Other children my age and a little older (or younger) were with me. Though our numbers did not surpass ten, we were treated as though we were destruction tools and the highest security was enabled to keep us inside. As always, I had decided to make the best of it, and I did. I loved computers maybe even more than fashion. It was the greatest pleasure to travel among an enormous labyrinth of webs and channels. I felt like I had the power to do anything, and I did! At first I was timid, but then the rushes of adrenaline took over. I was trained, trained to understand every type of software, but also trained to manipulate, create it, destroy it. I could practically design anything I wanted. If I wanted to keep on with my fashion related desires, I could create an entire program that would allow me to take my drawings from paper to a 3D form in the computer. I was enticed, I was absorbed. I usually wrote letters to my parents, but never got responses. Sometimes I would receive a postcard with absolutely no words. Those were very special. I would place them under my pillow.
The other children, who against my wishes I can not call friends because we were more like people in a similar situation, questioned my habits. They didn't understand how I could love in such an insane manner the very people who had sold me to the government (which is exactly what the Deltons had done).
"I love them." I would answer "If I was left here to be trained, and if one day my training is enough to protect them, then it will be enough. As long as I can keep on loving them, I don't mind if they don't return the feelings with such intensity. That is what I think. That is my purpose."
They never understood, but they respected me.
The people at the Institute would allow me to visit my parents in vacations (a month in summer and winter). It was the happiest time during that period. Eric and I would talk nonstop (he always wrote me back). We would usually escape to those typical worlds of illusions where children run to. He'd tell me about his dream to become the leader of the Deltons and about his dream of also being a pilot. I would listen to him and smile. It was fantastic.
Then I would return to the Institute and train more. As I grew, the skills I was introduced to became more difficult. I had to train my mind and body. I had to balance the technology with a great amount of abilities that would allow me to be an even more effective weapon. By the time I was fourteen, I had finished a college degree and I was considered a genius. So were the other kids my age. I loved what I had become. I fancied myself a spy. But still, I was a teenager, with the angst and drama that comes with the age.
At 14 my parents died. It became my personal hell. I changed, my world crashed. At 14 they were dead and I had not yet been acknowledged by them. They had not seen what I could do, what I would do, what I would become. It infuriated me and at the same time I felt lost and without a way. What hurt me the most was my family's reaction to the death. They didn't seem to mind. Their world remained unshattered, while mine crumbled. My grandmother had even hinted that their death was for the better....
...and that was the first time I discovered the dangerous potential hidden within me. I simply connected that night and hacked 25 million dollars from the Deltons' bank account. There was no remorse, I didn't even blink as I did it. No guilt. With that money, I designed and built (with the help of my companions), the jet which my brother would later call Celine: a super advanced plane with artificial intelligence. I'm sure grandma knew it had been me, because next time we met she eyed me with a great deal of respect. She would not create a scandal among her own kin, but she knew what I was capable of now, and she knew I could do more.
A few weeks later I was contacted by the INTERPOL. I had been referenced by the Institute itself. In my inexperience I had also done one simple mistake that had led them to suspect me as the author behind the Delton Bank Account theft. We made a deal: I would become their agent, they would take my little work of borrowed money to the grave. Next thing I knew I was an agent at the age of 15, leading a double life. I was in high school once again, but I investigated the parents of those in my society. I was in high school, but I already had a degree in Mechanics and Engineering. I played two roles perfectly: the high school prom queen, fashion lover vs. the undercover agent. I was a bit of a mess, though. I would often sleep with a boy, just to druge and hack his computer and gain all the dirt on his father or mother. I would do anything to justify my existence. And I did, and I had fun. I led two lives, but then again, I could do it.
After that, the rest is all known. I think I've written enough.
No one, absolutely no one, knew that I was going to be a girl. I always thought my parents dreamed over and over that I would be a boy that could compete with the already male Delton in the family, Leonardo. Nonetheless, I was their great deception. They were not expecting to see a little girl within the blankets when the nurses handed them, their child. It was tough luck. Now there was a probability that the other brothers or sisters would have another male child. Either way, they were not interested in a female. They did not want to raise a girl. They found it pointless. After all, women in the Delton family married rich and that was their purpose in life.
Of course, I never noticed any of this. I would be reminded of my "tragic" first year of life by my grandmother on a daily basis. She would often say 'because you didn't see your mother's face when she found out your sex, oh! the horror!' and she laughed.
A year after my birth, my parents got their wish: they had a boy. However, as a busy couple of society they failed to give him as much attention as they wanted to give him. They did conmemorate his existence and they did spoil him on a daily basis, but still he didn't receive as much parental love as he deserved. In return, I saw my little brother as the family jewel. From the first moment I saw him, I loved him with every fiber of my being. I wanted to protect that little baby whose eyes stared right at my own. I wanted to be an example to him, someone he could look up to, someone he would also love. I knew what would be my role towards this neoborn: I was his big sister.
Talking about knowing what I had to do. I was a very advanced toddler. By the time Eric was born I could talk, walk, and was well aware of my sense of self. In other words, I was no average one year old. My grandmother noticed, my grandfather noticed, but my parents simply ignored that their child had practically learned to talk on her own.
I took my role as big sister very seriously. I wanted to be someone Eric could depend on. And, even though my parents tried to ignore my existence, they were just indifferent, they were never cruel, and from time to time they would make sure I had what a healthy child should have. I never thought they hated me. Quite the contrary, I think they saw me as a challenge that they never had the courage to face. In various occassions my mother would take a brush and try to touch my hair, but she would panic and would later talk to me in a week or two. I didn't mind as long as I was needed. If they needed me to be Eric's entertainment, I was content. If they needed me to be in the house, I was happy. It didn't matter if they didn't love me as I loved them, but they were my parents and I felt that somehow I had to protect them from their own fear.
As I grew, I was happy with my cousins and other Delton family members. There was no way I would ever let go of those great moments of life when I could run about free and laugh out loud. I really enjoyed my childhood.
As a Delton child, I was very privileged. I would sleep in a mansion when a great party was being held in the first floor. I would sneak away from my bedroom and I would sigh with delight as I saw the beautiful dresses, the diamonds, the sparlking life of the high society. I wondered how I would grow up to be and if I would also be able to wear such sublime clothing with as much ease as these people did. I was four when I accompanied my mother to a fashion show she had been invited to, and I fell in love with it all. I wanted to design, I wanted to draw, I wanted to create! I also wanted an excuse to have my mother admire me and acknowledge me. If she loved the designs, she would surely notice me. I desperately wanted her approval.
These were not the thoughts a little child was supposed to have. At the age of five I had discovered my love for fashion, but I had also discovered that I was very particular. I understood high level math. I could follow patterns and complete equations. It was not difficult for me to create completely logical conclusions from previously set premises. I was different, and I was scared. I had already acquired a very particualr passion for reading, and that had not gone unnoticed.
"You are very strange indeed, Lucille." My grandmother was the only one who would ever address me on those particular subjects.
"Why is that grandma?" I would tilt my head and pretend I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Don't play dumb with me, Lucille. It is alright. I have noticed. You are very much like me. Extraordinarily smart. That is important, Lucille Marie. We need to polish those skills of yours. I will take care of that."
At that moment, I didn't know what she meant, but I feared I would find out soon enough. As a result, I tried to spend as much time with my brother and family. What would happen with me? I never feared my grandmother like the rest of my family, but I knew she thrilled in creating havoc. A few months after our chat, I thought nothing would come of it. I kept pretending I was normal. I trained my hand to follow a series of patterns that would create alluring designs for those who viewed them. It made me happy to see that I had enough talent to be an artist.
It all came to an end when I was seven. My grandmother had single handedly convinced my parents that I should be trained with the best of the best, in an institute that would polish my engineering skills. I was seven when father and mother left me to fend for myself, all alone in Italy, in some institute.
The years that followed were very strange. Other children my age and a little older (or younger) were with me. Though our numbers did not surpass ten, we were treated as though we were destruction tools and the highest security was enabled to keep us inside. As always, I had decided to make the best of it, and I did. I loved computers maybe even more than fashion. It was the greatest pleasure to travel among an enormous labyrinth of webs and channels. I felt like I had the power to do anything, and I did! At first I was timid, but then the rushes of adrenaline took over. I was trained, trained to understand every type of software, but also trained to manipulate, create it, destroy it. I could practically design anything I wanted. If I wanted to keep on with my fashion related desires, I could create an entire program that would allow me to take my drawings from paper to a 3D form in the computer. I was enticed, I was absorbed. I usually wrote letters to my parents, but never got responses. Sometimes I would receive a postcard with absolutely no words. Those were very special. I would place them under my pillow.
The other children, who against my wishes I can not call friends because we were more like people in a similar situation, questioned my habits. They didn't understand how I could love in such an insane manner the very people who had sold me to the government (which is exactly what the Deltons had done).
"I love them." I would answer "If I was left here to be trained, and if one day my training is enough to protect them, then it will be enough. As long as I can keep on loving them, I don't mind if they don't return the feelings with such intensity. That is what I think. That is my purpose."
They never understood, but they respected me.
The people at the Institute would allow me to visit my parents in vacations (a month in summer and winter). It was the happiest time during that period. Eric and I would talk nonstop (he always wrote me back). We would usually escape to those typical worlds of illusions where children run to. He'd tell me about his dream to become the leader of the Deltons and about his dream of also being a pilot. I would listen to him and smile. It was fantastic.
Then I would return to the Institute and train more. As I grew, the skills I was introduced to became more difficult. I had to train my mind and body. I had to balance the technology with a great amount of abilities that would allow me to be an even more effective weapon. By the time I was fourteen, I had finished a college degree and I was considered a genius. So were the other kids my age. I loved what I had become. I fancied myself a spy. But still, I was a teenager, with the angst and drama that comes with the age.
At 14 my parents died. It became my personal hell. I changed, my world crashed. At 14 they were dead and I had not yet been acknowledged by them. They had not seen what I could do, what I would do, what I would become. It infuriated me and at the same time I felt lost and without a way. What hurt me the most was my family's reaction to the death. They didn't seem to mind. Their world remained unshattered, while mine crumbled. My grandmother had even hinted that their death was for the better....
...and that was the first time I discovered the dangerous potential hidden within me. I simply connected that night and hacked 25 million dollars from the Deltons' bank account. There was no remorse, I didn't even blink as I did it. No guilt. With that money, I designed and built (with the help of my companions), the jet which my brother would later call Celine: a super advanced plane with artificial intelligence. I'm sure grandma knew it had been me, because next time we met she eyed me with a great deal of respect. She would not create a scandal among her own kin, but she knew what I was capable of now, and she knew I could do more.
A few weeks later I was contacted by the INTERPOL. I had been referenced by the Institute itself. In my inexperience I had also done one simple mistake that had led them to suspect me as the author behind the Delton Bank Account theft. We made a deal: I would become their agent, they would take my little work of borrowed money to the grave. Next thing I knew I was an agent at the age of 15, leading a double life. I was in high school once again, but I investigated the parents of those in my society. I was in high school, but I already had a degree in Mechanics and Engineering. I played two roles perfectly: the high school prom queen, fashion lover vs. the undercover agent. I was a bit of a mess, though. I would often sleep with a boy, just to druge and hack his computer and gain all the dirt on his father or mother. I would do anything to justify my existence. And I did, and I had fun. I led two lives, but then again, I could do it.
After that, the rest is all known. I think I've written enough.
