I've never really been normal.
I guess having Alice Kingsleigh as a mother does that to a person. She's was never really normal either, with her strikingly beautiful face and her intelligence. She always knew the right thing to do in troubled situations. Even when I messed up and got things wrong, she'd always say, "Everything always turns out alright in the end, darling. Never forget that."
My name is Lilah Kingsleigh- daughter of Alice and Laurence Kingsleigh. I don't remember how my parents got together, all I know is that I was born in a small town in China. My mother had been working on some new trade-routes, and little me being the deviant little bitch I am, popped out of nowhere making my claim on the new world. From what my parents told me, I was the best thing that had ever happened to them.
And to be honest, they were the best things I ever had. Eventually my parents had decided to move back to England, their homelands, so I could be with my family. Growing up was a joy for me; I was surrounded by my cousins and my lovely aunt, who was Alice's sister. I never liked her husband Lowell too much, nor did I like the strange man who always seemed to attach himself to my mother. I don't really remember his name... was it Hamish? I don't know; but I remember overhearing Alice saying something about his sensitive diet, which made me giggle.
My father's side of the family was small and much less vibrant than my mother's. He only had a withered old woman whom he called Lisha. She had been the woman who took him in when he was an orphan, and they were inseparable. When I was younger, she'd give me some corn-husk dolls for me to play with.
But all of that is over now. I don't have anyone left, really. When I was ten, a woman with a very large head stormed into our mansion and slaughtered my family. I don't remember much after that, but I have the distinct memory of my mother grabbing me up and running toward the exit. She was coughing because the mean woman had set fire to our home, and we were trapped. She finally slumped in the corner, dying as the smoke damaged her lungs. The last thing I remember: the lady who murdered my family stepped out of the burning blaze and stared at me, a smile on her lips. The strangest part- her lips were drawn in a heart.
She didn't do anything after that but disappear, and that's where my memory ends.
And this is where my story begins.