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She knocked on the Church door and ran back to the car. The baby woke up at the sound of the knock and started to cry. She got into the car and hugged the man sitting beside her. As the car slowly rolled away, she peered at her baby through the rain-plastered window, with tears streaming down her young face, until the car disappeared around the corner.

Many minutes passed and the church doors remained closed and the baby continued crying. That was, until, two delicate feminine hands picked up the baby from the basket. She was a woman of expensive tastes, and could clearly afford them. Young and beautiful like she jumped right out of a fashion magazine. Her name was Catherine Ford. Behind her a taxi waited, its engine running.

Catherine smiled as the baby stopped crying and nuzzled into the warm comfort only a mother could provide. She looked around and seeing none, she took the baby, the basket, and got into the taxi and drove away.

Every story has a beginning. This was mine.


2. The Love


The first real memory I had, was of me running around the dining table with my mother chasing after me. I think I was three years old. It was such an ordinary memory compared to how my life turned out. But nevertheless, I cherish it with all my heart.

Catherine never had an easy life. She lost her mother at a very young age and her father was a drunk who never really cared about anything other than where he could get his next drink. She ran away when she was Seventeen in hopes of finding a better future. That’s when she met a man who offered her a better life, if only she was willing to do what she must.

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