Russia, 1984

Our once proud and peaceful country had not seen good days since the fall of the last leader, the Tsar. All over the barren and icy landscape our people were starving and freezing to death as the few governors who hadn't lost their jobs battled to get negotiations and trades with the other countries back on track.
To no avail of course since no one trusted us anymore.
The world had cut itself away and left a once vibrant land full of culture and history to its own fate.
Our country's involvement in a certain conflict long gone by which I'd really rather not delve into, only convinced the world that it would be best never to give us back any of our former glory or power even if a thousand years were to pass.
And as the friendships between even Russia's remaining allies who still had some inkling of respect for the icy lands whose people's hearts were said to be as cold as the bleakest of winters continued to crumble, so too did the friendships between our country's very own people as they turned on each other for even the smallest reasons.
Survival of the fittest and civil wars, I think my parents called it.

...

"Is this supposed to be a history lesson or something." murmured Shego, stifling back a large yawn. "Because if it is then it's not a very good one. Half of it doesn't even sound real. You're making this up as you go along aren't you?".
Kim's mother didn't even remotely look like a Russian let alone sound like one.
Despite being clearly a little upset to be interrupted during such an emotionally tough moment, Ann's voice was still soft and calm when she paused her narrative to address Shego's point.
"Why would I lie to you Shego? I like you. I care about you. As long as you're here with me, I will treat you as I would my own family. And I don't lie to my family."

Shego opened her mouth to complain hotly once more but then decided to remain silent once more when she realised nothing she said would be able to break the surgeon's gentle demeanour. And if nothing else, her story certainly sounded better than most of the boring ones the other villains told around the fireplace in that it didn't make her want to doze off right away.

...

Russia 1985

My family were never particularly well off. Things in our country like toys and food were very hard to come by. Day in and day out my daddy, my first daddy went from shop to shop trying to get a job with very little success. The only way he could sometimes make a few bits was by shovelling snow outside for the richer people in my town and most of the time they refused to even give him anything. A lot of the time, he was reduced to begging for food outside cafe's and other food places for any scraps they could afford to give him and mum and me. Sometimes he got a few leftovers which no one else wanted, and sometimes the doorman shooed him away and told him to never come back.

My mum was never very well off either. She always had this cough which never seemed to go away. And if what she told my dad and me was true then she had always had that painful painful cough ever since she was a little girl.
Though somehow I didn't have a cough. Somehow even when winter came and it got even colder than usual and we couldn't afford fire or medicine for the little flat we lived in I never got seriously ill. My mum always told me that this had to have a meaning. That I was clearly chosen for great things beyond that what I could imagine.
That one day I'd quit this dirty and rotten excuse for a place to live for somewhere far greater than even my wildest dreams could take me.

And even though my parents were lovely people who never put their needs above my own, I found what they said very hard to believe.
They were clearly just trying to give me hope which I would never have. Just trying to sugarcoat a mouldy and stale piece of hard bread, so to speak.

My parents and I lived happily together for a long time despite the harsh conditions we had been forced into. Long enough anyway for me to feel the warmth and safety of being surrounded by two beacons of light in a world full of darkness. But before I even knew them well, in front of my eyes they disappeared.

...

"Disappeared?" asked Shego as Ann stopped for a brief moment to regain her composure. It was clear this wasn't an experience she wasn't comfortable with sharing with anyone and that had at least made Shego somewhat empathetic of the deep sorrow that the one doctor who had treated her well was now sinking into slowly.
A quiet and barely audible sniff escaped the female surgeon.

"Yes Shego. Disappeared"

...

Russia 1985
The winter of 1985 just before my fifth birthday was even worse than last year's. You could say that hell was freezing over.

Now for a lot of people, winter is thought of as a fun event filled with enjoyment and pleasure that only comes once a year for four months, five if you count march as well.
After all what could be more fun sliding around on the beautiful white landscape called snow, making those lovely things called snowmen or snow angels.
Children especially young kids have lots and lots of fun throwing snowballs at each other in what's called a snowball fight.
And after all those games are over and its time to head home there's always hot chocolate to warm you up after your icy adventure and a cosy fire to sit beside if you still haven't warmed up. All of these being things you could never do during summer or any other time of the year.

Don't get me started on the fact that there's a scrumptious roasted bird called a Turkey covered with the most delicious sauces you could care to name. The thought of that alongside the roasted potatoes, stuffing, the little veggies like sprouts on the side. Just thinking about it makes me hungry.

But for some reason neither I or my mum and dad found winter particularly enjoyable. And even now I don't find it very enjoyable.
Sleeping on the floor without much of a duvet wasn't too bad in the summer. Try the same thing in winter and you wouldn't even need me to explain myself any further.

Then it happened. My dad was a strong and big man but with how long he spent outside everyday trying to shovel snow and find enough to keep us all from starving, it was no wonder that the nasty runny nose and sneezing that he had been doing his best to hide came back to bite him hard.
Without much of a doctor in our part of town and with the other doctor uptown charging what for us amounted to highway robbery, it wasn't long before one morning we found him huddled up in his spot on the floor, his face turned towards the wall as if he didn't want to see anyone.
We turned him around and tried to shake him but he didn't respond. Me and mum both knew what that meant.

Without daddy's help, there wasn't any money coming into the cup on the table. Mum wasn't strong enough to go outside in that weather with her cough that never seemed to go away and she wouldn't let me go either.
We simply stayed inside the safety of our shelter that was apartment number 47 of Kalashnikov Kresent, to try and ride out the wrath of that harsh and unrelenting winter.

They say that when someone you know and care about is lost, a part of you is lost with them. If my time spent studying human emotions and their effects on the brain are to be believed then every loved one you lose also takes away some of your life expectancy depending on just how much they mattered to you.
According to the test I took sometime ago, that would mean that every member of your immediate family took away roughly three years of life in the case that they passed away before you did.
The penalty would be doubled if you lost them sometime between the ages of three and ten, when you had been acquainted with them well enough to idolise and cherish them but when the mind was far too weak to cope with the severe trauma of a topic as serious as death.
It was tripled bringing the total penalty to nine years, if one had neither another understanding family member nor trusted friend to turn to for reassurance following the sudden loss of safety following the death or departure of the loved one in question.

Did that mean I had already lost eighteen precious years when a few weeks later my mum left the room we shared as a family while I was still sleeping?
My mum had clearly not taken the loss well and for the past few weeks had refused to talk to me. Her usually optimistic mood was no more and all I could do was leave her be hoping it would pass and that she'd feel better soon.
I never learned of what happened to mum. And somehow for me, that was better. Not being anywhere as hardy as dad and having a never ending tendency to throw coughing fits meant she probably couldn't have gone far.
But at that moment in time as I, not yet six years old looked at the empty spot where mum was supposed to be and quickly began punching the door with all my might which wasn't very much then. Mum had locked the door behind her and it was a long time before the door as paper thin and decayed as it was, eventually gave way to my temper tantrum of wailing and constant kicking.

I ran through the streets as snow flew into my eyes, not needing to change since I always slept with my clothes on anyway for warmth.
But my mum had been right to warn me not to try to take even one step outside no matter what. It was far too cold for me to run very quickly and the constantly swirling snowflakes blurred my vision making it almost impossible for me to see anything.

I didn't know where I was when I started shouting for help as my frail and hungry body could take no more. I slipped on a step which in my confusion I didn't spot and fell face first into more snow. I tried to pull myself back up so that I could find someone, anyone to save me. Save me from this shivering which was getting weaker and weaker as I saw nothing but white and then black.

But I knew it was useless. I should have listened to mum and not gone against my better instincts which deserted me when I saw my one remaining hero no longer curled up beside me. It was the end of the line. I only hoped that soon I would stop shivering entirely and it would all end a lot faster.

...

Shego didn't really even know how she was supposed to feel anymore. So Ann was ready to tell her daughter's worst enemy about all this. Even after all the scrapes she and Kim had been through. Even though it was apparent that sympathy or even admiration for her plight were two things Shego neither wished nor cared to grant. Why not a psychologist or anyone else to hear the apparently tragic tale of "Ann the abused".

"I must not cry" Shego murmured in her mind.

...

Russia 1985

I woke to the heavenly sensation of warmth. Was I in heaven?
As my sight cleared and my senses slowly returned I heard a voice. I couldn't hear what it said but it sounded trustworthy and friendly.

And then I saw a great white throne, and him who was seated on it.

A gently smiling and slightly trembling man with hair as white as the snow outside, dressed in what were clearly expensive yet modest clothes.
The way he looked at me as he explained that he had brought me here to safety as he caught me freezing to death out in the cold.
I was lucky he happened to be driving to the store to pick up some essential groceries and driving back again.

"You are safe here" he reassured as he continued to elaborate on how he had built this humble establishment as an orphanage to try and help as many poor young children like me. Children whose parents like mine had also succumbed to the icy curse ravaging through this now very poor country.
Children whose parents had starved, frozen or worked their fingers too hard in the few barely functioning factories still left until their hands really did fall off.

What he said to me next, I had forgotten as the thought of a warm and well made bed like the one the old gentleman had laid me in and the company of other children to play with and talk to had made my memory and mind weak.
Maybe we had all been born into a very bad and unfortunate set of circumstances or "dealt a bad hand" as people here prefer to call it, but if we had each other and the help of truly selfless benefactors like the man who'd brought me to this blessed place then maybe our lives might not be so bad after all.

But most of all maybe I could satisfy daddy's last wish which he all but repeated again and again to me even on his deathbed ill and weak.
A firm prediction that his untimely demise only made me want more determined than ever to satisfy if only to put daddy at ease wherever he was now.

A prediction that his little Anna I, was chosen for great things. Great things he claimed that were important enough to forever change the way of the unfair and crooked world long after his passing.
"The odds are in your favour Anna", were his last words that tragic night as sleep overtook him before I could ask daddy what he meant.
The first confusing words that come to mind when I think back to the uneducated but very clever and wise man who I'll never see again except in my dreams.

...

Even accepting everything Ann had told her to be a hundred percent true with no fabrications whatsoever which was highly unlikely, Shego still failed to see what was making Kim's melodramatic drama queen mother so sentimental or emotional.
At least Ann had good friends the same age and position as herself while not one of Shego's brothers had been even remotely civil or loving towards her since her own mom and dad passed away.
And if whatever life Kim's mum had led ended the redhead up as a successful and respected neurosurgeon, whose very presence saved the lives of at least a dozen innocent and completely helpless casualties every day rather than say another apathetic criminal like Shego, then surely there was nothing too terrible in her past.
Nothing terrible enough to warrant sympathy anyway from Shego who still believed her own childhood to be far worse and deserving of understanding.

Little did "Shego" know that by the end of the night when Ann left her, she would long have began lambasting and mocking herself for this very opinion.

...

"The punch of 87" Russia 1987

The old saying that pride went before a fall had never been presented in a more sadistic way than the days following my close escape from death's door.
As soon as I was well enough to sit up and move again thanks to hot and tender soup being poured down my aching throat, I eagerly followed the old gentleman outside to meet the other boys and girls who he claimed I was sure to get along swimmingly well with.

The look that the others gave to me the moment I entered the playroom, was beyond unfriendly. It was somehow inhuman as if I had committed some horrible crime long before I stepped into the room.
My savoir introduced the other children briefly to their new friend and told us not to cause trouble and to be on our best behavior.

I don't think I need to explain what happened next. And to be honest Shego, it might be best if even you didn't know.
It's, it's not a pleasant subject. It really isn't.

Suffice to say, not every bully needs a good reason to bully someone. They told me things and called me names. Very mean names.
And the grown ups around the place where I was lucky enough to have a home in now were none the wiser since they spent most of the day away at work to provide for us.

So one day after how long I had forgotten of all this, one day I lost it all.
In the worst way possible.

Once again the apparent ringleader of the other children since he was much larger and more muscular than even his six almost as bad friends, came up to me saying my hair was stupid and how if I didn't hand over my bag of sweets for the day that I would regret it.
That bag of sweets was my birthday present from the kind man who'd brought me to be looked after. They were my favourite kind too, mostly lemon drops with a few black humbugs. They were special. And I had been looking forward to them all that day before someone had informed the ringleader of my sudden stash.

One more insult about how daddy never loved me and my life was never the same.
It was over. All over.
Any chance I had of being the good girl like I promised mum and dad, all gone.

When I lost my temper and in a moment of complete stupidity, gave the large boy a strong and heavy punch.

The only thing in my mind in those five seconds which even now I can never forgive myself for, was to show the monsters who had been annoying me far too long what happened to those unfortunate enough to receive my rage.

A huge puddle of blood flowed from the now very frightened boy's nose like he had just become a fountain that pumped out blood instead of water.

He held his nose and slowly backed away as without meaning to, I looked him straight in the eye.
His friends and the other children who were probably just as scared of him and his gang of bigger and stronger children as I was, quickly backed away from me as well.

It was when somehow as hard as I tried to apologise and could say nothing, that I realised that the other children weren't monsters.

I was the only monster.

I could have handed over my sweets but all for the sake of satisfying my stupid rush of emotions, I lost control over myself.

My legs froze to jelly when I tried to steer myself in the direction of the crowd so I could say I didn't mean for it to happen. So that I could grovel before the owner of this home, Freddy and beg him not to throw me back out into the unforgiving and harsh world I would do anything not to return to.

But even as that thought crossed my mind, I just as quickly realised how pointless that would be. Not only did the other children's word have the benefit of the doubt over my own since I had just proven that I could not be trusted. Not to mention after all the kind things Freddy had done for me bringing me here, feeding me and tucking me into bed when he was around, if this was the way I repaid him then to beg for anything other than to be punished as harshly as possible was an insult to both myself and the man who saved my life.

They say that apologising after you do something wrong shows a very good thing called "Virtue" which is bound to make those you upset forgive you or at least cut some slack. But then tell me this.

Just what good is virtue when you're pummelling someone!?

Especially if its for no good reason other than because you're a selfish and wicked person who doesn't care about anyone but themselves?

And that's when without further delay, I began to run and run.
I had to get as far away from here as possible since I had clearly outstayed my welcome.

I had become something of a celebrity that day.

I had caused the punch of 87.

...

"Is that the worst thing you ever did then?" asked Shego as Ann uncontrollably paused a moment to pull herself together.
"If you ask me, then that creep got what was coming to him."

Though Shego's impetuousness and clear inability to see the advantages of nonviolence left a lot to be desired, this was probably the kindest and nicest thing Shego had said so far to Ann. It really was the little things that showed Shego not to be the remorseless criminal that everyone said she was.

Ann had to close her eyes to force back tears as she sighed a deep irrepressible sigh.
"I really wish it was Shego. I really do."

Boy this super chapter took a chunk out of me. But it was great fun to write. Please review and favourite if you wish to support me. Next chapter may never come out.