A/N: Only a short chapter this one, just to introduce my OC, pre-warning this chapter may contain possible triggers to do with cancer, death and there is mention of war. Leave me a review, let me know what you think.
Antoinette Deveraux was from London, England and was the only English student at Beacon Hills. She had moved there after her father had died- the last member of her family left alive; her mother died in childbirth with her little brother. Who in return contracted leukaemia when he was five years old and died after a long battle. After being told her father died in action during a special ops mission, she had no ties to England anymore; it had only given her loss and heartbreak.
Thus she moved to America to start fresh after inheriting everything. She sold it all, apart from a few choice pieces that were too sentimental to give up and bought herself a pokey little flat where she lived alone, she was seventeen and lost so much already, looking after herself. She refused to go into the care system, she had practically been looking after herself back in England, now was no different.
Many people did not like Antoinette, she was peculiar for a teenager and it scared a lot of people because they didn't understand her. She looked odd, her hair was long but dyed precious silver with her natural black roots beginning to come through, her eyes were a vibrant green with flecks of blue around the pupil. Her figure was slender with a tiny waist and her skin was so pale it looked like porcelain. There was one feature though that added to the mystery of this stranger and that was the red rose tattoo that took up a majority of the back of her left hand; the delicate green leaf curling around her little finger ever so slightly.
She didn't really speak to people and kept to herself, when she did speak; her thick English accent would always confuse people. Here she was, in a foreign country, by herself trying desperately to start her life again.
If she knew that her life would never be like the peaceful life she had in London, or that a host of pain, suffering, heartache and trouble would come her way, maybe she would have changed her mind. But perhaps, she would not have changed her mind for the world…