And that's where the beginning of the end begun

Everybody knew that we had too much fun

We were skippin' school and drinkin' on the job…with the boss

Z

An outlaw in Mexico; the first thing that pops in people's mind is the burly bad guy in a Western with a bandana on his face and a bank bag in his hand galloping towards the border aboard a trusty steed with the hero hot on his heels. The reality? A tall, blonde ex-pageant queen in a stolen Mustang Boss with nothing to her name but the clothes on her back fleeing from a federal agent ex-boyfriend.

Most people found the fantasy version more believable. It made life a lot easier for me.

My story doesn't really start in Mexico; it goes all the way back to my hometown of Malibu, California. From the time I was a baby, my mother had put me in as many pageants as she could; she was living vicariously through me or something like that. She had always wanted a girl so she could dress her up like a doll and turn her into Miss America one day. By the time I was a teenager, I was winning massive titles. It was kind of the catalyst that started the downward spiral that led to me running. I was beautiful and I knew it and so did the boys. I was a cocky bitch that thought she could get out of everything by showing a little leg.

I had a string of bad boys that introduced me to drugs, crime, and street racing. Being around them sent me on what my mother called a "downward spiral into the fiery depths of hell". I'd say it was more the path to my enlightenment.

If I hadn't made the series of bad relationship choices, then I never would have discovered my talent for stealing things. It was my defining characteristic on the streets of Malibu; more people at the races knew me for that than my blonde hair, long legs, and ego. It was kind of shocking considering how much I flaunted the other things.

I felt like Queen Bitch, and I acted like it so much that people eventually started treating me like it. The confidence boost that provided me with made me feel like nothing would ever usurp me, and my actions started getting crazier and harder to hide. My family soon caught on to the fact that I was absolutely out of control and started threatening rehab, jail, and everything else under the sun that they thought would cure me. I could just picture my mom dragging me into an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and saying "Hello, this is Charity Alexandra Ramsey and she's addicted to criminals and stealing cars." As funny as the image was, there was a massive chance of it coming true. In order to get her off of my back, I pretended to go straight for a little while; even started dating a nice guy that wore sweater vests his grandma had knitted for him and loved computers.

If there is one thing about my life in Malibu that I regret, it was ripping that boy's heart out. I was a sophomore in college and he was a junior when we started dating. He had one of the top GPAs on campus and I would have been failing every class if I wasn't giving the male professors a good reason to pass me. By week three of our relationship I had him doing every assignment for me. In the free time I had gained, I went back to the races and to the racers, and, with my GPA steadily rising, my mother was none the wiser.

I'd like to say I just flirted with him every once in a while and let him do my homework for me, but I let it get so much further than that. Before I knew it, I was a junior and I was telling him I loved, that I one day I was going to marry him. He believed me, and not long after, he proposed and I agreed. He was head over heels in love, and I only tolerated him enough to get what I wanted out of him. The guilt broke my heart when he found out what was really going on; the truth destroyed his.

The pain changed him. He had always wanted to be a computer nerd for the FBI; his dream job soon changed to an actual agent. He was determined to put people like me behind bars until the jail rotted on top of them. Needless to say, when a warrant was issued for my arrest after some cars from the police impound lot disappeared, he was family had disowned me after the failed engagement, and none of the racers would protect me with him on my tail. With nowhere else to go, I headed south into the fabulous land of tequila, beaches, and no extradition-and straight into the man that took my criminal career to a whole new level.