Chapter 1: My Sophisticated Backstory
[This story is obviously not about me. This story was all my imagination and had absolutely no connection with my life. Just to clarify.]
I am Sky Checkers. I am turning 23 next month. My backstory is a very harsh experience and it pains me to even think about it but I am the one who wanted to write my life story on a notebook and publish it to the world. Anyway, let’s get on with my life story...
My life began by me being born into a poor family. My mother was unemployed but my father worked as an officer for a car recycling company called Crumpled Cars. I remember, as a child, my mother hated children. She always argued with my father as to whether they should adopt me to keep the house running and save money for they had one less mouth to feed really late at night. Every time I cried as a baby, she would yell in my face, ‘shut up you peasant!’ and left me to cry until I passed out of exhaustion. I don’t think I can say much more, it still hurts me on the inside...
No! I must continue!
So. As a toddler, every time I fell over while walking she’d laugh at me and point. I can’t say my Dad was much of a help through my struggles either. He was a coward and always let my Mum win all the arguments. I can’t blame him, though. He tried his best but he just couldn’t help it and so eventually I lost it all...
My mother eventually won the argument and I was put up for adoption one night and I sat there, freezing, in my nightgown, on the pavement, in thunder and lightning. Yep. It was thunder and lighting she decided to chuck me out in. Everyday, as I sat on that kerb, a rope around my neck attached to a cardboard sign saying ‘Adopt me please’, I used to bang on my house door and I used to see my mother at the window, smirking at me, my brown hair frizzy, my face dirty, my clothes torn at the shoulder and my bare feet clearly showing that she had got what she wanted - me to become a child, dying of starvation and dehydration. After around the third day, I managed to get someone to adopt me. They were a foster parent and gladly took me in. I lived there for about 6 years. It was heartbreaking to leave my foster parent after that, but I was 18 and I had enough money to buy my own home and get a job by then.
I struggled to get a job. It took me two years to find one. That was at Ocean Centre Prison. I managed to pass the training course on my first attempt and from then on, I knew my luck was starting and I was heading down the right path by becoming a police officer. However, what I didn’t know was, even though I was getting lucking, the luck was a passing phase...
