Disclaimer: OK. Do I have to write one for every chapter? Well, just incase I will shove it in: No, in fact I did not create these characters. I know, it's such a shock. But anyway, thanks for the reviews. I wanted to write a fan fiction for a while, but I never got the time and... blah blah blah... back to the story! It might be a little dry at first, but I gotta explain a few things first, but keep reading, because it gets wicked good!

Oh and to any people reading this from Fremont Wisconsin, I mean no harm; I just randomly picked your town! It is an honor really!

contains a swear and adult themes

Chapter One

Psychology fascinated him. It was definitely his favorite class out of his new schedule. The only problem was, he was the only 9 year old in the class.

Weird.

Having skipped first, second, third, and eighth grade, Steven was definitely well ahead of most of the children his age. When he took a placement exam for the Fremont Elementary School, he scored so high they almost skipped him through Elementary School altogether. It was only through the insistence of his parents that he was able to have what you would call a "social life" and communicate with kids his own age.

However, when there were only about 500 kids in the whole school system, one found it hard to be social anyway. Fremont was a small town in Wisconsin about 20 miles from Oshkosh and 90 miles north of Madison. Plain and simple it was not the best for a boy with genius talents to be raised.

But back to Psychology. Steven found his eyes wandering through the textbook, reading what his eyes should not have touched for at least another four years. He smiled when he began to read the first chapter.

This class is going to be so easy, he realized, I know everything already. From an early age, Steven found out how well he could manipulate those around him. It was really easy if you knew what to pay attention to.

For instance, his counselor smoked pot on her lunch break behind the school near the dumpster. He didn't catch her doing this, just smelled a faint whiff of the drug and yesterday's tuna salad on her as she walked by. Yeah, it was going to be really easy.

But the people he liked to mess with the most were his parents. Mostly because they weren't really his parents at all, but a foster family. His mom was a schoolteacher in the middle school, which most people thought was the reason for his genius. His dad was a lumberjack. He knew they were not his real parents because they looked at him differently that parents looked at their children. As if they had a horrible secret they couldn't share. Like they were afraid of him.

His mom was easy. She considered her faith in God to be absolute, that whenever she prayed God always answered her prayers. That was how he knew for sure that he was adopted. Because one night he heard her praying for her first child, praying that she could have a baby of her own. He was confused and hurt at first, not understanding, but soon his little brain put the pieces together and

BAM

He was adopted.

He had always imagined his parents coming for him. At first, they were famous people smiling and taking him away from this dull, ordinary life. Their teeth perfectly white and their clothes immaculately clean. They would talk about the latest songs and fashions. In a word chic.

Then, when the glamour of that life left him as he entered into school, he became gradually more realistic with his outlook. A normal family life with a small house off the coast of California. He had brothers and sisters there, and they had a kind heart, but little money. He imagined cookouts on the porch and the familiarity of close-knit family and a heritage, something he was sorely missing here disconnected from his blood.

Then, as he became aware of his own self-image and his place in the world, his parents turned into an image of scorn and disgust to him, drug addicts on the street maybe, his mother prostituting herself for money, to wrapped up in her own selfishness to care for her bastard son.

He peered out of his room into the parlor where his parents were watching the television with their newborn daughter, Gabrielle. The sound of the evening news filtered in to him:

". . . This ill fated drug raid that claimed his life and the life of five others is the latest in a series of seemingly endless series of incidents beginning with Waco, Texas, in which the Justice Department and the FBI have been questioned about their use of firepower rather than judgment. This time, it was FBI Special Agent Clarice Starling heading up the calamitous strike force. Agent Starling attained some measure of celebrity ten years ago when she was given information by the Doctor Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lector which led to the rescue of Catherine Martin. . ."

The station was quickly flipped as the adults exchanged looks. To Steven, it was not hard to tell that the news story had caused somewhat of a stir in his parents. He made a mental note to look up the various names he had heard, starting with Clarice Starling.

Author's Note: The clip from the news is from the movie Hannibal, and I have no rights or whatever to it. Just in case ;0)