I am Isabel Kabra
She's seen events unfold in her life that even adults couldn't handle. She was once a child, an innocent one, who loved candies and teddy bears. She wasn't evil then, far from it. She wasn't cunning then, miles and miles from it. To summarize it all, she was a good person. But that's the problem with time, it keeps passing and events take place. Some happy, some tragic. Some people don't experience the tragic ones during their childhood, they were the lucky ones.
But Isabel Kabra wasn't that lucky.
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Her father was a Lucian and her mother was a Vesper, though an inactive one. Her parents' marriage was a successful one. That was what she thought then.
"Mommy, mommy," little Isabel said, showing her mother her crude drawing of a house. "Look what I did."
Her mother gave her a plastic smile and took her drawing. She beamed.
"Yes sweetie."
She was dismissed out of her parents' room.
She finally appreciated my works.
Little did she know that beyond the wall she was standing beside to, a crumpled paper lay in the wastebasket of her parents' room.
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Little Isabel sat beside her father in the dining table area. Delicious feasts were lined up in front of them. It was breakfast time. As little Isabel reached for a piece of ham, she accidentally toppled her father's coffee. The contents spilled all over her father's lap.
"Ahhh."
A hand immediately went up to slap Isabel's face. A red mark etched its way on her face. Tears started pouring out of her eyes. She looked at her mother for defense but all she saw were cold blue eyes staring at her with disapproval written all over them.
She jumped from her seat and went straight to her room.
Sobs were heard all over the mansion.
Her parents didn't even blink.
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Thirteen-year old Isabel watched as her mother was killed by her father. She watched as the glistening knife pierced her mother's tender flesh. A bloodcurdling scream tore its way out of her mother's vocals.
"You bastard!"
She hid behind a post in the mansion. She breathed in heavily. The lungs felt like sandpaper in her lungs.
Suddenly, her father turned around.
He sensed me.
After a moment of hide-and-seek, her father finally found her.
"Isabel," her father said menacingly. "Your mother was a fool in thinking she can con me the clues."
Clues? What clues?
He clicked his tongue and brandished the knife at her. She instinctively flinched.
Then out of nowhere, he drove the knife into her arm but missed. She grabbed her father's arm and her father was caught off guard and she used that as an opportunity to drive in the knife to her father's ribcage.
A scream tore its way out of her father's lungs.
The minutes seemed to pass very slowly. She then saw nothing but her father lying on the ground, bloodied corpse and all.
One of the maids seemed to hear and screamed something in Jamaican.
She then ran to her room and screamed to her pillow.
She had just encountered her first kill.
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The police came in hours later and broke into her room. They handcuffed her but said nothing, unlike their usually treatment to the normal criminals.
She didn't know why, maybe it was the reason of her being a minor.
They bagged her mother's and father's mangled corpses. She didn't bother cleaning up, what's the use anyway? One of the maids would just tell.
She was thrown unceremoniously into her jail cell. Along the way, one of the cops said that her trial was due tomorrow.
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Her trials were finally over and she was charged with homicide. Her sentence was supposed to be ten years but when the judge found out it was because of self-defense, it was shortened to just five years.
She then was escorted to a juvenile prison she was to stay in for five years. She was lead to a series of hallways packed with rowdy teenagers. Some of the male adolescents whistled at her for they rarely saw females as beautiful as she.
She was thrown into her cell she shared with two other women at the end of one hallway.
This was going to be a long five years.
One of the women stared at her with contempt and the other scrutinized her.
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Two years into her sentence, a cop came in to free her. She asked him why but he said nothing. Two men were waiting for her outside of the prison.
One introduced himself to be Mark Callous, he was a middle-aged man with balding hair.
The other introduced to be Arthur Trent, he was the same age as she and was dressed in a crisp black suit that she seemed to like.
"Hello, you must be Isabel," said the middle-aged man. He extended his hand for her to take.
She looked at the hand suspiciously and after a while, took it.
"Hello."
That was her entry point to the Vesper world.
After that, they gave her two days of rest and the next day, plunged her into training. She also continued her education, the Vespers had paid for her tuition.
She studied at day and trained at night. Along those lines, she lost her conscience and became her parents, the thing she had dreaded for years.
After a few years, when she was in Oxford, she had charmed a very high-ranking Lucian agent. A few years after graduating, he married her. Along the way, she had uncovered info and fed them to the Vespers. As was stated in her long-term mission. She was very careful though for Vikram not to discover her identity as she doesn't want to end her life like that.
After a few more years, she had produced two kids to serve as Vikram's heirs, nothing more. She despised the children. They were loud and hard to control, two factors she hated most about people.
She taught them fashion and trained them to be cunning, all they need to know to serve as good heirs. For they were about to inherit their parents' art business. Not that she did want to train them though, but because that Vikram wanted it and she didn't want to blow her cover by just focusing on one thing.
A few years then, she sent them to the Hunt. The move she didn't know then she was about to regret in the future.
Page Break
Now as 47-year old Isabel Kabra sat in her cell, she reminisced about her past. She didn't think it was so tragic though as most people who would hear it would say.
She was piteous, some would say, others would say audacious, dreadful, or even ferocious.
She didn't care.
I am Isabel Kabra and I will always remain triumphant as I have always been.
Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues or anything associated with it.