(heyyyy everybodayyyyyy :D long time no write, hey? So, this is my attempt at first person. I hate writing it so I'm forcing myself to. So, the first chapter is first person present tense – screw it I can't do it. I'm sorry but I'm going to switch to past in the next chapter. Present is too hard for me but I didn't wanna change it :P So, read and review my loyal followers Jonce again, I don't write first person so this is a big leap for me. Oh.. yeah.. it's not beta read so if there's mistakes PM me about it and I will change it ASAP! ENJOY :D)

Every family has its black sheep. There's always that one person who never fits in and has their family question them.

I'm that person.

Honestly, it really fucking sucks. I mean, sure, it's always nice to be original and unique but not in my family. It seems they are only concerned about politics and power. Who the hell cares?! While sitting here, I can hear the classic bickering. 'They're too open minded about this' and 'They're becoming too powerful with this guy.' Looking around my room, I'm thankful for my salvation.

Something's going on – I can hear my parent's voices increasing in volume and passion. I know just the way to end that. Sitting up, I can see what I'm thinking of. On my dresser is perched my phone. I don't know what I'd do without it. I really don't want to move – but I must. Jumping off my plush bed and stepping onto the hard floor is uncomfortable under my feet. A few short steps and I finally grab my phone. I can't help but look over my reflection in the mirror.

Compared to my family, I even look different! Both of my parents have blonde hair and deep hazel eyes. They look fucking scary. I remember times when I was younger that I got so scared of them I would start crying. Boy was I ever a sensitive child. The person who is staring back is far from them. Perched around my shoulders is my deep brown hair. Shaking my head, I can't help but admire my eyes. Something must have happened at birth because each eye is a merging of green-blue with flecks of grey thrown around randomly. I love my eyes – mother hates them.

'You'll never be part of the family. You're a traitor.'

Yes mom because having fucked up genetics makes me a traitor. I can't help but shake my head at that. Those kinds of comments from her have gotten increasingly frequent over the years. Once I'm an adult, she wants me gone. I am a disgrace to the family. Well, I have two words for you, dear mother.

Fuck. You.

I still can't believe the scars I have on my neck and body. It was quite the adventure getting that little number. Wasn't my fucking fault either! Well, I guess it was partially my fault.

I guess I had to have been about… thirteen? Shit I had balls… like… shit. Thinking about this now, I really should have minded my tongue. Anyways, I was sitting in my room like usual. Something happened and I left the room… I think I was hungry. Oh yeah! I had been baking cookies that day. See, in my house, we have two kitchens. My room is upstairs. If you walk outside my door, there is a small open space with a railing enclosing the area and to the right a staircase that leads downstairs. To the left, there is a small kitchen. Really small. There's a mini fridge, microwave, stove and oven. My parents don't like me using their shit so they got me my own. On this particular day, I had made some sugar cookies. My friend had sent me the recipe so I decided to make them. I heard the timer go off and needed to take them out. So, I walked outside to see my dumbass cousin and his friend taking them out of the oven and eating them. I worked pretty damn hard on them… hence I was pretty fucking pissed. I walked up behind the two of them and stood there – glaring. Eventually my cousin turned around with a mouthful of cookie and rustled the top of my head.

"I see you still take whatever the fuck you want." I had spat at him grabbing the half eaten cookie out of his grubby hands.

"Excuse me?" He had grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to his face. Although both of his eyes were different, the anger was the same. Even though he reeked of alcohol, I could tell he wasn't drunk. It would take copious amounts of alcohol to get him drunk. My cousin doesn't care about anyone except his own agenda. From this point on, I probably should have retracted that statement, but what the hell? I was screwed either way.

"You heard me… or do your ears need a cleaning?" Without thinking, I grabbed the pan that held the cookies in my free hand and smacked it across the side of his face. Did it ever burn! After I hit him, I dropped it and watched him grab the side of his face. He reeled back and I watched his friend look between the two of us. My cousin looked at me and I tried to run. He rammed into me and sent us both flying over the railing. Down below was my parent's favourite piece of furniture in the living room – a glass table. You can see where this is going… me right through it. I slammed down onto it so forcefully that my body shattered it and had a million different shards of glass going into my body. I blacked out for a moment but then came around to feel my cousin dragging my bloody body off of the floor and dangling in front of his face.

"See what you made me do, bitch?" Honestly, pushing me off the second story of my house and through a table was pretty fucking unnecessary. I managed to latch onto the arm he was holding me up with and bit down onto it. The next thing I knew, I felt blood pouring into my mouth and I had spit out the chuck of skin I tore off. He dropped me down and I fell back into the pile of glass. I managed to get a few steps before I had collapsed onto my hands and knees. Before that moment, I had never felt so much excruciating pain in my life.

"Get back here!" He grabbed me by the neck and started to choke me. There was nothing I could do at the point. Suddenly, it took a really fucked up turn. He started laughing. I'm not kidding. He started laughing and put me down onto the ground and gave me a hug. Talk about a psychotic episode. I started laughing with him.

"I like the way you stood up to me. You'd make a great leader one day." He remarked while looking me in my eyes. A smile appeared on his face as he walked me over to his friend. The look on that guys face was one of questioning and a hint of anger.

"He'll fix you up… won't you Yuri?"

"Yes, Makarov." Yuri laid his arm over my shoulder and walked me to the bathroom.

"We're both Makarov, comrade!" I looked up at him, smirking. Being that young, I thought it was the shit that Makarov was my cousin. He was feared so that meant I was to be feared, right?

"What's your name?" Yuri had asked as I sat down on the counter in the bathroom.

"Veta. Veta Makarov."

Basically after that whole event, Vlad and I became closer. I don't know how his sick mind works. Frankly, I don't care how his mind works. Wow… it's been a while. I will admit, I do miss being spending time with him. When I was younger, he would always be happy to have me sit with him and Yuri and listen in to what they had to say. Of course, back then, I didn't know what the hell they were talking about. As time grew on, I listened and watched from a distance. It was only once or twice a year where Vlad would visit the family. Sure, he's done some pretty bad shit – kill a few people, did some human trafficking, among other things – but he's still my cousin.

Cousins share a pretty sacred bond. There is just this amazing connection that can't be compared to anything else. They spend time with you on a different level. When shit goes down, they understand. Yeah, Vlad might not be the ideal cousin, but, we make it work. Contrary to popular belief, he does have a side of compassion. More often than not, he expresses that side to me. Thinking back to it, I saw him here last week. He seemed really busy, though. Haven't seen him like that in a while. Yuri and he went off to the small office they keep here. It was really weird – they didn't come out for a couple of hours. Even when they left, Vlad didn't acknowledge my presence – so much for that cousin bond.

"Прочти меня! Прочти меня!" Looking down at my phone, I can't believe what my eyes are seeing. Vlad texted me? This must be a mistake. There is no reason what so ever for him to be texting me.

"Опасность." Danger…? What the fuck Vlad. You really need to start checking who you text. For all he knows, he could have texted an officer in the US. Then he'd be fucked up the ass. Stashing the phone in my pocket, I can't help but think that –

"Вета, мы уходим. Мы вернемся в конце концов." 'We're going?' Whatever – I couldn't care less. The muffled sound of the door slamming shut was the only thing I could hear for a moment. Whenever my family was away, I could escape my alcove and venture forth. Sure, I could come and go as I pleased, but I know they – especially mother – prefers not to catch sight of me. As I walk out of my room and look over the now barren living room below, I catch a glimpse of my future – nothing.

You think I'm kidding right? Think about this logically. I'm related to Vladimir Makarov – the most wanted man by the CIA right now. People want to get at him… any way possible. I've never really considered myself a target. People don't know about Vlad's personal life. He's done a very good job of keeping that safe. I can't have a normal life. No matter how hard I may try, it will never be attainable.

Going downstairs, everything is so pristine. My parents don't like having a dirty house. If even the slightest object is out of place, it drives them crazy. I can hear the car start from inside. My father is quite the fan of classic cars. The one that I can hear right now is his favorite – a 1970 Dodge Charger. Taking a few steps to the window, I can see the smoke pouring from the old thing.

What the?! Why am I on the floor…? My face… there's so much pain. There's copious glass shard on the ground. Standing up, I look through the wind… the window is gone. The distance… oh my god… the car…it's… it's gone. All there is… is flames. The car is engulfed. Who would do such a thing?! What… what the… who's that? There's three men running this way… they're not Russian… oh shit.

Fuck my life… oh shit! I can't think right now! Wait… the office. Vlad was here last week. Did he leave anything behind? I have to check! Vlad would kill me if it fell into the wrong hands. Sprinting down the hall way, I don't know what to do. Kicking down the door, I can't see anything that… a portable hard drive! How the fuck did Vlad forget that?! Ripping it out of the computer, I look around – where can I hide it? I can hear them inside the house! Wait – the floor board! I lunge onto my hands and knees – I know it's around here somewhere… aha! Prying open a floor board, I see the cubby hole. I chuck it in next to the fake passports and money – it'll be safe. Better stomp on it to make sure it they don't find it. Okay.. now where the fuck –

"Don't move!" I snap my head towards the voice – do they really expect me to do that? I'm screwed either way. My legs start to move towards the window before I even know what the hell is happening. Damn – he has me pinned. Groaning, I can feel him pull me back up. There's no way I'm getting out of this now. Fuck… I can't stop trembling. Two other men are standing in the doorway… looking me over. They look confused as hell.

"Let me go!"

"Now we can't do that, darling," Slowly, another man entered the room, "we can't leave a wounded civilian by herself."

"I'm fine." Bullshit – I can feel adrenaline pumping through my veins. I need to get the fuck out of here. Wait… there's something written on his uniform… 'Shepherd'. Whoever this 'Shepherd' person is, he seems to be the man in charge. He looks so old… seems dangerous for a grandpa to be put out into the field. He's coming closer to me… he's giving me the creeps.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"I…" I can't tell him that I live here… can I? No, he might bring me in to question me further.

"Meat, Royce – go make sure the perimeter is secure."

"Yes, Sir."

My body is still trembling. Why is he closing the door…?

"Let her go, Ghost." Finally, his coarse hands are off of me. This is going to be… interesting.

"What do you want?" Taking a step away from the man who held me, I sit down on the desk – honestly, I'm starting to get light headed. I didn't even notice the glass had cut up my arms badly. I must have lost a lot of blood. The look that Shepherd gives me… I don't know what it is. There's something more behind those blue eyes of his. The other man, I don't even know – he's wearing some sort of mask and glasses. Okay, let's try to act calm and distant. I can do this.

"Where's Makarov?" Shepherd asked. Well, isn't he being direct?

"Wouldn't you like to know…" looking up at the ceiling, I avoid eye contact – I need to keep this act up.

"Ghost, I think you know what to do."

"But Sir, she's just a child…" What are they talking about? Keep calm… act natural.

"That's an order."

"Yes, Sir."