Disclaimer: Don't own Skins. Owning things is not an easy business to get into

Warning: Some violence (might be disturb to a few of you who love pet) towards the end, but if you have been reading this, what do you expect?

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Death is for the living

That mourn from Errol Morris suddenly made sense from that day onwards. No matter which kinds of religions you followed, or what you believed, deep down, you never knew where you would have gone to once you passed away. If my cousin were at peace, good for them, but peace wasn't something we felt. Our lives turned to the worst after that uncountable lost, it was the living who got affected by death, only the living.

How curious, for months I walked around with the same habits, as if my brain couldn't accept the fact that they weren't here. I would wake up early on Saturday to greet Joseph, George and Uncle Will's visit, I would collect red rose in the garden because Grace loved to have that old school flower in her room. Even the staff behaved like that, whenever our chef sent three children meals instead of one, grandma ended up weeping. Of course, those anguish little customs went away-albeit slowly-, but the trouble and pain still plagued you, made your skins crawl, made your spirit wither. Before, everyone in the house would have usually said "Such bright girl, my dear Naomi", "Lady Naomi is beautiful and smart, ain't she jewel?"… After that freak accident, everyone went "Lord Francis", "Lady Grace", "Oh, the twins would make one delightful mess, those little devils", "Lady Grace was so kind, poor thing"… These comments didn't make me jealous, It just made me feel ashamed

Em asked why I had interfered with her and Katie's personal business -speaking of the toilet episode when we were thirteen-. The truth was, watching Katie abused my young red head at such tender age brought back unpleasant memories. Well, I didn't slap or hurt my cousins in physical term like Katie did, and my swearing lexicon was not so colourful; but superiority complex had its damage. Even now, I still blamed myself for not treating them right. Franc, Grace, Joseph, George, I should have been a better person, a kinder person, should have shown how much I appreciate those twin boys, how much I loved Grace and Francis despite their demure and awkward nature. I would do anything to have them with me again, alive and healthy. So the image of Katie smacking her poor little sis just rubbed me the wrong way, 'that Katie doesn't value what she has' was my thought. If you had seen Emily then, you would have agreed that she was absolute sweetheart. Beautiful porcelain skin, cute button nose, her hair was not red, but as brown as her huge eyes, from which warmth emanated all over. How could you abuse something so precious? Tomorrow she might not be here anymore- who knew what would happen?– Loosing your flesh and blood was no fun

No fun at all

I was the sole surviving grandchild, as Uncle Andrew did not want children and would never have kids in the future, it was too late now anyway. I was declared heir, a title that held no interest to me since the day I was born. Loving history was not the same as keeping history, called me selfish, called me irresponsible, just spared me from the rules and obligation. I disliked injustice you know? And in this-sort-of-old-social class, there were things you had got to accept. For example: Boys would always come first in term of inheritance, no need to fuss or protest, it was what it was. I couldn't live like that

I couldn't be heir, things changed when you spent your whole life in an estate that huge

Things did change

It was the worst part

For my asshole of a father, it wasn't a surprise that he became someone I hated more than I ever did. Sure, he loved his siblings, well, loved enough to mourn their death; but his love for the estate was unrivalled. He placed it above all else, above mum, above his little girl. Suddenly we weren't good enough for him, mum suddenly was too unpolished, too rough; I suddenly was too clumsy or out spoken or boyish-whatever that meant.

"Gina dear, what are you thinking, putting on such a dress, people would assume the worst about our taste"

"What your manner young lady, and pay attention to your dog. When I was your age my behaviour was far more composed, and I wasn't responsible for the keeping of our home"

"Look at the state of these records, Gina dear, I know it's copious, but the house doesn't run itself, have to set an example for our child have we not?"

"Speaking of children, Naomi dear, that habit of running around and criticising the Prime Minister …"

It went on and on. Drove me mad. Before, if he became ridiculous, I would just run to my grandparents and pout; they had always been on my side. That fact also changed, it was what broke me to bits. "Listen to your father Naomi", "I know it's hard Naomi, but…", "You are a grown up now Naomi"… there was no "Little treasure", or "My jewel" anymore. At first I thought it was because of the shock that affected them like this-in a temporary way-; Naïve huh? So I began to rebel, with little things like: refused to go to bed on time, or took Grandma's bracelet without permission- not that I needed it, but just to drive them crazy, made them notice that I was alive, that I didn't care

Soon I spent most of my time walking around, looking nonchalant and bored- an attitude which was further honed in Bristol

"I don't want to go" I yelled for a million times that day. We were meant to get ready for Sir Goleman Annual formal party- It said party, but it was more of a business gathering- Which was quite fun to be honest, his estate housed loads of animals that he rescued, and us kids always had fun while adults do their things. I loved animals; so I was being ridiculous just to piss them off. Why you asked? I had no idea; I was a kid in pain, not much made sense at that state. As the result of my stubbornness, we all huddled in Grandpa's study to sort out my drama

"Come on love, you want to see the animals again don't you?" Mum tried to persuade me

"Not this time" I grumbled

"That's enough" Father clenched his teeth, he grabbed my arms and forced me to look into his eyes "Drop that attitude young lady. Do you know how fortunate you are? Food on silver plate, clothes on your back, a great history to your last name. You possess what others couldn't even dream of, despite how rich they are. Don't you dare ruin hundreds of years that your forefathers gave to you". His words didn't reach my ears somehow, I stared at him blankly, feeling my blood boiled my face raw. All this talk about the estate had become speech of imprisonment; I felt the survival of this household binding me like cold chain, gripped at my flesh. I turned to my grandparents, hoped to see some sort of support, and found zilch. They, like dad, wanted me to lead the life I did not wish for. How cruel! They used to love me so, prized me so, now I was nothing but a duty. "Damn this house! Damn you", I screamed, seized the paper weight on Grandpa's oak desk and threw it at my dad. It might be because I was insolent and disrespectful, or because said paper weight was around a hundred years old-Who could tell?- All I knew next, was that action earned me a hard slap on the face.

No one ever hit me before. No one. I heard mum shrieking, I felt Grandma's hands reached out and tried to prevent the fall of my child-like frame. But as soon as she touched me, I shoved her away; the burn on my cheek had already spread like virus in winter, a virus that infected my heart, made it quail. "I HATE YOU", I let out a deafening cry, then ran away from Grandpa's study in breakneck speed

No tears came until my room's door was slammed close and locked. I crawled on my bed and allowed the anguish to eat me for dinner. How could they? I was their favourite child, their spoiled thing. 'What good does love do to you? You're only loved when it's convenient, when it suits the purpose'. My faith was squashed and torn-until that red head little Fitch came, like shining sun, to heal me, to show me love in its most glorious nature-but at the time, I was wrecked. 'Go away, go away, go away…' Those words seemed to repeat inside my head, I grabbed a pillow to squeeze, just to find something tucked underneath

A Note

'Strange' I thought, picking up the paper

Dearest Naomi,

Fate is not kind, but the Harlington always has the support of many for uncountable decades, you are not alone in your quest. This castle and its various artefacts are tokens of love, please make your ancestors proud by keeping that love alive. You are the smartest and brightest future heir; learn to appreciate your home, and may be one day you will discover its most wonderful secret

Faithfully yours

The other half of the 6th Duke

What on earth…

I stared at the note, this person must think me simple, the sixth Duke died around two hundred years ago. Who did this? I didn't recognise the handwriting. 'Some treacherous plot to fool a gullible girl? That's low', I crumbled the note in my palms and threw it on the floor. 'What a joke', my whole life had been a joke. That thought depressed me, again, and I found myself crying once more.

I got no clue how long I had lied there, I just knew that the sun had gone down, darkness had swallowed everything like one hungry monster; but I refused to move and turn on the light. Grandma, Grandpa, and even dad came, knocked on my door, mumbled some apologetic words, then gave up when they realised I wasn't going to let them in. I stayed like that, amidst the emptiness, until a combination of scratching and yelping noise rang in my ears, followed by mum's voice

"Someone misses you, love"

'Shotaro', I untangled myself from heaps of pillows and pulled the door wide open. He jumped on me like a kid on sugar, licked my face wet while wagging his tail. "Sho, Sho, good boy, miss me Sho? Love me? Yeah? You do right? Good boy", I cooed, "Come on" I patted the bed, he obliged and we ended up having a cuddle session, intuitive dog, my Sho, he knew when I was in a foul mood

"That sheet ain't cheap" Mum turned the light on, made my oculus screw shut with the sudden brightness, "If he ruin it, you'll be in trouble…again", she warned me. It was true, we loved our dogs, and even though time to time I saw a Pom Pom or Chihuahua in private chamber, hunting hounds were strictly banned from human beds.

"They can drag this castle to Tartarus for all I care, I don't want it", I announced with a grunt

"Shame, imagine the damage ay love? This place without an heir! So much history…" She let the sentence hang loose

"Mum", I sighed, "This world, it's not for me. Why does boy come first? Why does the eldest come first, and not the most able? You said I'd be the best politician; I'd fight for justice and make us all proud. You said the world was like this because people were too busy with their personal drama to help. This place IS personal drama mum. There're issues out there… like Africa… and famine… and child abuse…", I wrecked my face in order to recall all those things that troubled adults that I had read or seen on television-when I was allowed to watch television- It must be funny, for mum burst out laughing

"Listen to you! Talk all big", She smoothed my hair, "You sure about Africa? Running the castle ain't bad for a job you know?"

"I'm sure", I knew, just like the way I knew my feeling for Emily was true and whole; I wasn't born to run this estate. That sort of future looked grim, suffocating like. No doubt I would have to wed some dude and breed children-the idea had been disgusting then, it was even more disgusting now

"Very well" She tapped her finger on my nose, "Shall we be bad guys?"

"You mean?"

"I mean…." Her brown orbs twinkled with mischief; even Sho caught the look, and gave a playful woof

So that was how it happened, mum and I became a pair. I rebelled, she protected me, sometimes even covered for my defiant doings. I was not a destructive child, far from it, but the way they talked about the estate-as if I was a piece of furniture with legs-was pure irritation. We would show them that we meant business. I wasn't supposed to be bound by rules which had been formed during the time when women couldn't vote. Mum understood, she was sensible enough to realise this palace would receive more harm than benefit if handled by one unwilling heir- a notion which escaped the rest of the family. We refused to go to events, refused to dress up and visit people, we scoffed when Grandpa ordered us to 'learn how it works' at the farms. Even trading antique had become less pleasant, I never stopped loving old toys for sure, I just wasn't as keen on the formal business side of it anymore. At first, Pandora had thought me crazy, she was also named heir because all of her cousins were killed; poor thing, she reckoned it was honourable to be bestowed such status- being born illegitimate and all- but soon enough she herself realised it was nowhere close to easy. Name didn't mean a lot in our world, it's blood, and she was a bastard spawn, even when she became legit through circumstance, most of our schoolmates still avoided her like they used to, so in the end Panda agreed that such title was for someone else. Those months of naughtiness and rebellious doings were an act of screaming out loud: 'Let me breathe, let me choose my own road to walk on'. It was not in spite though. Deep down there was a small part that still believed my Grandparents treasured me or had some sort of affection left for me, and they would place their grandchild's wish first if they saw how miserable and damageable I became.

Though, those were time when weird notes kept appearing

The notes weren't trouble sorts-initially anyway-. They were filled with encouraging speeches, always tucked under my pillow, always about how great this castle was, yada yada yada, how meaningful it was, and "Other half of the 6th Duke" would be signed at the end. I didn't tell mum about this trouble-worst mistake-, figured it was a prank from dad or the servants who were persuaded by Grandpa. I tossed them to the grand fireplace of our dinning hall, then continued my rebellious routine, drove everyone crazy

Whoever the half of the 6th Duke was, he or she didn't like to be ignored, and it was when hell broke loose

The sun had risen as high as she could that particular morning and I was still in bed-which was a little too big for a girl my age-. It was part of our 'piss off my father' plan, by turning lazy and sleeping in. I yawned, rubbed my eyes, then trotted to the bathroom at the end of the corridor, feeling pretty shit. I found nothing out of ordinary, washing my face; it was when I reached for the comb and ran small fingers through my hair-which was long and had light brown colour then- that my heart dropped. It didn't feel normal. I grabbed a fistful of it and turned to where the light was brightest. Chunk of my hair was missing, from the left side of my head to be exact. 'Still in slumberland Naomi?', or did I caught a hair virus yesterday? But the cut was neat, virus wasn't neat, at least not the one I knew off. At such age, with a brain full of sugar, my mind started to conjured up Sweeney Todd. Though before I could creep myself out, an earth-shaking scream made me jump

It came from my room

I panicked, part of me wanted to check what had happened, but another part, a bigger part, turned into stone and glued me onto the floor. I couldn't move. Then, I heard rustling footsteps, and someone squeaked our names in order, "Oh Lady Naomi", "Her Grace", "Lord Eric", "Lady Gina". In a few minutes mum's voice echoed the hall "Naomi, where are you?"

Knowing she was there gave me some courage; I turned the knob and opened my bathroom's door. "Mom", I yelled, almost like a desperate child

Everyone rushed towards where I stood, and by that I meant 'Everyone'. Grandpa, Grandma, dad, mum, and even our housekeeper- Mrs Bennett, who looked a bit drain in the face. "You have been up to no good, child. But this is way off the scale", dad scowled, though his scowl sounded weirdly uncertain. "We shan't let you turn your great grandfather's name into a laugh"

"What?" I said, confused at how the confused look on my face frightened him

"Darling" Mum spoke, voice soft, "Did you cut your hair?"

For some reason, tears started streaming down like waterfall. "I woke up and… it's gone, half of it… and. Is Sweeney Todd real? Am I one of those wicked folks?" It was ridiculous, of course- anyhow - warm imagination was good excuse. "Dearest", Grandpa waved me over; it was when I saw the stuff he was holding, a chunk of my hair, and a note-which I recognised. Mrs Bennett must have found it under my pillow when she came to make the bed. I took it and flipped it open. The handwriting was no more; instead, it was filled with individual letters that appeared to be cut from something like 'The Daily Mail', then glued on this note to make a sentence. Those notes were usually extensive, with weird babbling about my estate, yet right now all I saw was a line: Not the true heir. And at the end, The other half of the 6th Duke.

What the heck! "It's not me", I swore, and began to tell them about the notes I had been receiving, "I thought they came from you", I said, my eyes were fixed at Grandpa, "They were sweet, and handwritten… the previous ones". Wait a minute "Did you cut my hair?" I touched my soft mane, the long part was still long, the short one, however, felt so strange.

"Oh no" Grandma's worried look troubled me. "Wait" I asked, "These are not from you? Any of you?" I felt a chill ran down my spine. "ANSWER ME", I yelled. It was frightening for a kid when adults appeared so lost and helpless. "Shhh, I'm here sweetheart, calm down" mum took me in her arms as I shrieked and wailed "Calm down, come on, no one's gonna hurt ya. I promised ay, promise". She kissed my cheeks, ruffled my hair-an action which made her tear up, for my usual locks were so odd right now. "We should call the police", She told dad.

"We sh…" He hesitated, "I don't want to blow matter out of proportion dear. This dreadful event, may be we shall… I mean… what if…" He turned to Grandpa "What do you reckon?"

"WHAT DO YOU RECKON?" I screamed. 'Are you kidding me? Does he need to think when my life is at stake?' I meant, I got it, our kind was not fond of complaining. Even when that accident robbed us half of our clan, and the press made a big deal out of it, we just gave some public statements here and there, then wished everyone to leave us alone. We didn't fuss in difficult time, because we knew from the outside looking in, most people deemed us lucky; and to them, we could manage our own misfortune, unlike those who had to work hard to pay the bills. Except if you were, say, Princess Diana, but if not, no one would give a fuck. We understood that, I understood that, it wasn't about fear of scandal, we just didn't want to be perceived as ungrateful, spoiled assholes who whined when things turned difficult. The documents and pamphlet, which were handed to visitors who travelled to our palace, were adjusted in a very quiet manner, changes like the heir info, from "Francis" to "Naomi" were made without drama. Even my portraits' descriptions were modified in private, as if tragedy was for us to bear. But this and that were not the same. I couldn't help but imagined some freak guy, tip toe into my room with a scissor, caressed my hair, touched my face, cut my locks while thinking about sicker, more torturous things that he could do. "You DEVIL" I tried to shove dad with my small hands "I am your girl, you are supposed to protect me. I am your girl. Devil, Devil" How could he hesitate? How dare he when my life was put on chopping block? Normal mum or dad would have called the police by now.

"I'm not your heir. Do you hear me? Bad blood! I have bad blood! Damn you all", I ran to the bathroom, slammed the door close, and turned the dead bolt before they could barge in. 'where is it?' I searched inside my cabinet for the item. Mum used this bathroom time to time, she must… ha. I grabbed mum's scissor from her nail polish bag. 'It will do'. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a reflection of someone I did not recognise. Part of me was killed on that day. I began to cut the rest of my hair short, ignored the pleading from my folks. It was a horrible haircut, but that's the point.

Once it was done, I walked out, threw my chopped tresses at Grandma "Find someone else to preserve this bloody castle, I don't want to live here". Then I dashed upstairs before they could say a thing. My own room with its huge bed was a better place to mope in a situation like this, but the room felt more like a crime scene to be honest, what if I woke up and found myself missing an arm? So that was why I chose the nursery as safe haven, this area was restricted and just a few people had access-fear of kidnapping I supposed

It said 'Nursery', but after I grew out of my toddler clothes it became a playroom. Hadn't been here ever since Grace and Franc left us. They were never given as many toys as I was- favourite child and all- So this room was plain torturous to stay in after they had passed away. I walked to my shelves, and lifted up the roof of my Noah Ark. Franc used to adore this. The Ark was almost a meter long, housed around two hundreds pairs of animals-all hand made to perfection. He knew how spoiled I was, and just simply eyed this thing with a wishful look. Poor Franc. I lied down on the soft rug that grandpa purchased for us, staring at the ceiling. I thought I was doted on then, now I knew it was rubbish. If there was a tiny hope left in me, it was squashed flat like a pancake. This castle was more important than their little girl; I should leave and made it easier for them to choose. Mum could divorce dad for all I cared, I did not want to spend a single more minute in this house

Sho came like a faithful servant in the middle of my moping exercise. He picked up a squeaky duck with his jaw, knowing funny noises would lighten my mood. I smiled at him "Come here son", 'ain't you precious', dear Sho, who loved his mistress to boot. "You know Shotaro, if we move, you won't have a forest to chase rabbits anymore. Just a small house" I scratched his ears, "Small garden. You won't hate me for it will you?". He licked my hands; "Of course you won't" I kissed him

If you took care and loved your dog, it loved you right back. People annoyed me, animals didn't. Sho and I played around for a bit, though my heart was with mum most of the time. Being on my side was far from easy, and there was not a lot that I could do to help. Whatever she discussed with the rest of them, it seemed to take time, for when she came knocking on the door, it was late. "Naomi. Can I come in?"

"Yeah"

"Hey" She tried to smile "You hungry?"

"No" Hadn't eaten any food today, but for some reason my stomach lost its interest. "Don't feel like"

"Nonsense" She scowled, "Come on, I whipped up some soup for you". Well, no point in arguing then, I didn't want to trouble her more than necessary. "You need to relax before being questioned by the police. Scary people", she joked. We walked out, she took my hand and led me to my room "You can have your meal in your chamber, just this once. He, on the other hand", she pointed at Sho, "has to stay out, Mrs Bennett is not keen on dog hair decorating that fine Georgian bed"

"I don't want to live here no more"

"what about your father?", she looked at me

"Shitty prick. Just divorce him"

"Language, you imp", She scowled, but I could spot a laugh she tried to conceal. "About that matter…"

Mum told me over meal that they might give us some space to think about the whole heir business. I was too young, so they hoped my mind would change-Like fuck it would-. Dad was being a twat, my grandparents did not love me anymore. But mum said it was no harm in at least trying for the people who did raise me up, fed me and clothed me. She got a point. I asked her what would we do, and she said we could take a holiday, just me and her. Jason had settled down nicely in Bristol, good food, port area, loads of ships. We could spend a few months there. They promised to get off my back about the estate once we returned, and be patient until I reached consent age or so. To be honest, I'd rather leave this place and never looked back, though right now I took what was laid on the table.

I was grateful that mum stayed with me the whole time, my eyes needed some rest, and this note business made me feel unsafe in my own room. She tucked me in, whispered sweet words to me. For the first time in my life, I wished that every drop of my blood belonged to mum. "Mother", I asked, "Can I dye my hair blonde. So I look like you"

"Oh sweetheart" she hugged me. "It will be alright. You're part of this old fool either case", she kissed my cheeks "Rest for a bit yeah, I'm right here. I'll call you when they come for questioning"

So I slept, but my nerves were heavy, my mind was heavy, my heart was heavy. I tossed and turned, feeling troubled even within my dream-like state. I saw Francis, the twins, and little Gracie. I called for them, begged them to come back, any of them. They just shook their heads, saying "It's yours now". In a blink, thick fog came, swept them away. I wailed and wailed, until a tall, cloaked figure appeared from the fog. It pushed me down on muddy soil, its hand suffocated me, trapped all the bad air in my lungs. I struggled and kicked, but it was too strong. A sudden wind passed by, cleared the cloud, and in one swift moment where the sun shone through, I saw its face

The 6th Duke

I woke up with a jolt, sweating like mad. I searched for mum, and found her sleeping next to me, worn out with tiredness from today's events. It wasn't total nightfall, and the sun stayed long during summer time, but I could still spot an abnormal bright flash of…something, at my window, made me leap in fear the first time I saw it. Then it flashed again, and again, like a signal. "Mum, mum". I shook her awake, "Mummy"

"What is it?" she said with coarse voice

I pointed at the blinking light, which puzzled her just the same. We opened the window, and siren sound of police car attacked us like waves. "What the heck? It supposed to be just a few chaps, for taking statements" she talked to herself, then to me "Well, let's go, wonder what they're up to eh?"

We headed for the east staircase and began our journey to the Great Hall. I tried to smooth my locks a bit, feeling conscious about meeting strangers with my new, ridiculous cut. We were half way there when the Butler crossed our path, he smelled like vomit, and looked like he had been vomiting. "Oh, Lady Gina, Lady Naomi. What a coincidence. I was on my way" He sure was white.

"The police has come then James?" Mum asked

"Indeed" though he seemed odd when confirming the fact. His eyes trailed to me, and for a moment there it appeared like my face broke his heart. "I could take young miss to her room, as Her Grace requests. His Lordship and Her Grace are near the old stable" His eyes fixed on me again, awkward and hesitant, as if he did not know what to do

"NO", I grabbed mum's hand "I want to stay with you. Don't leave me, let me come with"

"I'm not sure if it's wise my lady" He said, "You should not witness… such…" He turned to mum, begged like a child "Your ladyship. Please, it's… the Hound…"

What? What's wrong with my dog?

In a grand total of millisecond, I made a choice. He was hiding something, and mum would entrust me to him if she thought it was for my own good. I gathered my strength, pushed him down the stairs, then used that moment to ran as fast as I could towards the old stable. I heard the loud thud of his body, and mom's screaming voice. 'He'll live', my brain could careless, it was occupied with Sho, ever since I woke up with these Police's flashlights at my face, a terrible feeling had started to churn deep in the gut. I ran out, braced myself for the cold of the evening air. No way I would spend my time in a room with James, he might be the one who sent those notes, after all, he would loose his income if I refused to take over our family's estate. What was Grandma thinking? Me, him, in a room, together? Fuck sake!

My feet felt weightless as I ran on the grass, mostly because my mind was elsewhere, and when I spotted a good amount of police cars flashing towards the stable's direction, my inside clenched into a bad knot. That stable had remained closed for years. During the Second World War we had to give up some of our trademark luxuries, my Great Grandpa had to choose between keeping the greenhouse or his expensive horses. As he was a true tree hugger, our stable was demolished and no one had been there since, except for the annual dust and paint job. So why make a massive crowd?

I saw Grandma and Dad with some of the police near the old hay barn. It's best to avoid those two, they didn't want me here, whatever shit crime they committed, no way in hell they could use Sho as a… tool, or… hostage to force me to obey their commands. No police could take him from me. I felt like a cheetah, for my feet sparked no sound as I dashed towards the horse stalls. A large number of uniforms seemed to squeeze each other in that tiny space for some reason. So I charged forwards like a loose missile, but after a few minutes the cops detected the small child that stood out like a lamb among predators. "Kid, what are you doing?" some guy grabbed me and held me up in his arms. He was so strong. "NO", I screamed, "Let me down", I could hear Grandma's voice from the distance, she would lock me back in my room, then took Sho. "NO. SHOTARO, SHOTARO", I yelled his name. "DON'T TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME. SHO, MY SHO, YOU HEAR ME BOY? SHOTARO"

A sudden flash from the police camera lit up the enclosed space, and as he held me up high in his firm grasp, I saw something over these many heads of men. A phrase was written in blood on the wooden wall, its letters huge and crimson, in the middle of it, was a handful of fur. The camera flashed again, and said phrase was made clear in my eyes. "Not the true hair", it read, like in my recent note. With the third flash, I saw my dog, his four paws were pinned on the wall with large iron nails, his stomach was stretched and cut open, his intestines ripped off in front of my very eyes.

"Shotaro?" My voice was soft and low, it wasn't a scream, or a loud wail, just a whisper of a child with dead spirit

What happened next? I found myself standing in a strange classroom, facing strange people who were around my age. My hair was bright blonde and short, unlike that little future heir from the Ascending Palace. I took my maternal Grandma's maiden name, and moved to Bristol with mum. Our homeroom teacher asked me to introduce myself to those restless brats, I scanned the area, and found a pair of twins, one of them eyed me with a curious look, then blushed as she realised she had been caught staring. The image of my own twins- Joseph and George- came back, coated my heart with guilt. I inhaled a deep breath, then said my name loud and clear, despite the laughter which I knew would surely follow

"My name, is Naomi Campbell"