Hello. Many of you probably know me as Agent Tennessee, a Freelancer. I am fifteen years old. Yeah, seems a little young, huh. You know what, maybe I should start from the very beginning of the tragedy known as my life.
"Jessie." My loving mother smiled, hovering her hand over my head as she set my down in front of a tall building, "Now, sweetie, I want you to wait right here. Mommy will come back, alrighty?"
"Kay." I let out an adorable cheer as I sat in front of the tall door. I clung tightly to the strap of my red backpack with one hand and waved with the other. However long I waited, I don't know, but eventually a lady in black and white stepped out of the gargantuan door and brought me inside. I knew my mother would come for me, but I went inside. It was dark outside. Looking back at it now, I was such an ignorance, for she had dropped me off at the orphanage.
"Hello, little one." The lady kneeled down, trying to comfort me, "What's your name."
"My papa told me not to talk to strangers." I whimpered, remembering that my father hadn't returned home since he left last week.
"You're safe here, little one." She smiles, nicely. Her smile somehow calmed me.
"I'm Jessie McGuire." Yes, I have the same name as an attorney in a movie.
"Ah. That's a beautiful name. And how old are you?"
"Um." I looked at my hand, counted my fingers, then held them up, "I'm five!" I cheered.
"Very good." She stroked my short, auburn hair, "You're one smart cookie, huh?"
"Uh... thank you." I wobbled towards a standing position. I was shown to a room with many beds and children, where I thought I was only spending the night.
I spent all my days eating, looking out the window for my mother, and accidentally falling asleep for the next year. When I was out of that room, I'd get in trouble for various things. Be it saying that my mother doesn't believe in God or strangling another kid for stealing my meal. I didn't really care much for the other children. I refused to admit it, but after that year I subconsciously knew that I had been abandoned. Because I couldn't admit this to myself, I came to the conclusion that if I were stronger, she would come back. I developed trust issues, depression, traumatic stress, and maybe other issues I probably shouldn't have had to deal with at age six. I'd pretty much cry myself to sleep for every night I stayed there. I was scared. Everything was total crud until I became ten years old.
"Thank you Lord for our food. Bless it to our bodies and us to your service." I prayed before looking down at my plate. I ate slowly, but I ate none the less. My eyes wandered as I watched a visitor. I figured it was just another adoptive parent ready to take another child out of this hell. He walked with Sister Teresa, practically smiling. What caught me off guard was that he had a vertical scar across the left side of his mouth. Did the church make a thorough investigation on this guy's record?
"Mister." I watched a boy trying to be cute, "How are you today?"
"Why I'm alright, I guess." The man smiled. He seemed strangely familiar. Where had I seen him from? One of my magazines, perhaps. I was a shut in anyways.
I watched as the older boy next to me tried to steal my biscuit, "Don't you even think about it Georgie." I sighed, "You know how mad Sister Teresa gets when I react while we have guests."
"Yeah, but that will be on you." He picked up the doughy consumable and took a bit out of it.
I took in a deep inhale, trying not to react, "You little but head!" I lashed out, strangling his stomach with my legs.
"I'm sorry, Jess! I'm sorry!" He squealed as I was pried off of him.
Sister Teresa walked up to me and slapped me on my hand, "What have I told you about behaving like that." She hissed, "Why don't you act like a good girl."
I stood up, as if at attention on the battlefield, anger apparent in my face, "I'm sorry, Sister Teresa."
"I don't want a sorry, Ms. McGuire. I just want to know why." She looked down on me, as if I were a roach deserving to be squashed, but no matter how hard I'm stepped on, I just spring back to life.
"If everyone were to walk all over me and steal my food, then I starve. If I starve, then I'll die. I fight back so that I don't die." I put on a brave face, when inside I was truly scared.
"Um, Miss Teresa?" The man called for Sister Teresa as she walked back over to him.
I watched mouths move as I was pointed at. All I could make out of the mess was a simple, "You don't happen to have any other children, right? She's pretty aggressive." From the sister then a, "It's alright. She'll be in an environment best suited for her," from the man. After that, I was dragged into a room I had actually never seen before within all the years I had spent here. It had only been me, the man, and one of the Nuns. I didn't really pay much attention to the whole conversation, but I figured that this was a new punishment for me.
"She's all yours." The nun spoke up, "It's great that we won't have as many kids in the infirmary, now."
"Every child is special." The man smiled, "Some just don't give up on themselves, no matter how many times they've been broken." He stood up, "Thank you. It was nice doing business with you." He saluted. Do regular adults even salute? He walked out the door and I watched, "Aren't you coming?" He looked at me. Does this mean I'm free?
"My... mother..." I trailed off.
"Is not coming back." The nun kneeled in front of me, "Go with him. Now starts the rest of your life." I did as I was told, first running up to the room that I was never going to see again, grabbing my stuff and shoving it into my backpack. I ran down stairs to see the man I was supposed to leave with waiting by the door.
"Wow. You're an energetic one." He laughed.
"Well, I haven't really gone outside in about five years, so this should be fun!" I cheered.
"Alright." He stepped out the door and I followed. I closed the door behind me.
"What should I refer to you as?" I looked up at him.
"What should I call you?" I repeated myself, "You have to have a name you would be comfortable with being referred to as." He kinda stared at me for a minute, "I'm sorry. I guess I'm using big words again. The other kids have always said no one likes a brainiac." I playfully hit myself in the back of the head.
"Oh? It's all fine. You can refer to me as Agent Alaska... or just simply Alaska." He smiled again. It was then that I realized where I had seen him before. The magazines that I do get are mostly about the Freelancers. In all my hopes and dreams, I had finally met one of my heroes.