Status: In progress
With Love Dr. Spencer Reid...
It All Starts Somewhere
'Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.' - Oscar Wilde
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Where to start in a story is something I've always had trouble with. How far back in someone's past do you have to go before you find out where it all went wrong? How deep do you have to look until you see the breaking point?
I had grown up in a rich family, a very rich family. A very rich, very old family with a long line of like minded men and women who seemed to only think for themselves.
Old money and old, deep rooted thoughts had never caused any major issues in my family until I had come along. Sure there were the few odd people in my family that had strayed from the old money and the mind controlled thoughts. But for the most part, our family had stayed the way we always were. Rich, snobby and self righteous.
But...as I was growing up, I had spent a few weeks here and there with my, not in the family, cousins and aunts and uncles, and only because I begged. Those few weeks in the summer changed my perspective.
I saw how things were for the real world. I saw the poor, the unfortunate, the ones that needed money. My aunt and uncle had tried to save me from the poisonous ways of money and connections. They had wanted to make sure I turned out better than the majority of the people in my family.
I was glad they did. I was glad they showed me what people without a lot of money lived like. They showed me that I should always be grateful for what I have and never take more than I needed.
But that also made me the black sheep of my family. My parents were both from money, my 2 older sisters loved the money and didn't mind blowing thousands on one pair of shoes. They were even dating/engaged to men of money. High class lawyers or business owners.
"You are not going to throw away what this family has worked so hard to get!" My parents always said they worked hard. They've never worked hard. They had money from the day they were born and they'd have it until they died.
"I am talking to you! Don't you walk away from me!" my father always had a temper. Drinking made it worse. He loved drinking. Scotch, Whiskey, Gin, Tequila, Vodka. There wasn't a time I can remember when he didn't have a drink in his hand.
"I'm done with this, father. I'm done with money." I spoke quietly, walking as I went, trying to escape with causing his anger to burst.
"You little bitch I'm not done talking to you!" I saw his hand reaching out for me and I knew once he had me, he'd never let me go.
One quick step to the left and a jog to the door and I was gone. I could hear him yelling but I didn't care. I needed out.
I needed freedom.
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Where to start in a story is something I've always had trouble with. How far back in someone's past do you have to go before you find out where it all went wrong? How deep do you have to look until you see the breaking point?
I had grown up in a rich family, a very rich family. A very rich, very old family with a long line of like minded men and women who seemed to only think for themselves.
Old money and old, deep rooted thoughts had never caused any major issues in my family until I had come along. Sure there were the few odd people in my family that had strayed from the old money and the mind controlled thoughts. But for the most part, our family had stayed the way we always were. Rich, snobby and self righteous.
But...as I was growing up, I had spent a few weeks here and there with my, not in the family, cousins and aunts and uncles, and only because I begged. Those few weeks in the summer changed my perspective.
I saw how things were for the real world. I saw the poor, the unfortunate, the ones that needed money. My aunt and uncle had tried to save me from the poisonous ways of money and connections. They had wanted to make sure I turned out better than the majority of the people in my family.
I was glad they did. I was glad they showed me what people without a lot of money lived like. They showed me that I should always be grateful for what I have and never take more than I needed.
But that also made me the black sheep of my family. My parents were both from money, my 2 older sisters loved the money and didn't mind blowing thousands on one pair of shoes. They were even dating/engaged to men of money. High class lawyers or business owners.
"You are not going to throw away what this family has worked so hard to get!" My parents always said they worked hard. They've never worked hard. They had money from the day they were born and they'd have it until they died.
"I am talking to you! Don't you walk away from me!" my father always had a temper. Drinking made it worse. He loved drinking. Scotch, Whiskey, Gin, Tequila, Vodka. There wasn't a time I can remember when he didn't have a drink in his hand.
"I'm done with this, father. I'm done with money." I spoke quietly, walking as I went, trying to escape with causing his anger to burst.
"You little bitch I'm not done talking to you!" I saw his hand reaching out for me and I knew once he had me, he'd never let me go.
One quick step to the left and a jog to the door and I was gone. I could hear him yelling but I didn't care. I needed out.
I needed freedom.
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First criminal minds fanfiction! Hope you all like it!