New York: Allie's War, Early Years

But I'm the freak, because of something I had no control over. Something that happened before I'd worn diapers.

But that wasn't really true either.

My grandmother warned me once that nothing in life is ever secure. No matter how stable, boring or predictable the different components may seem...everything can be gone with a single bad decision. In my case, it was a very bad decision.

One I still couldn't quite believe I'd made.

Now, not only had I lost my boyfriend of six years, in about the most permanent way I could have managed it, I'd become a violent criminal.

I wasn't the only one in shock at what I'd done. My brother couldn't believe it. He didn't come out and say anything, but I could see it in his face, that he still couldn't believe I'd done something that, well...crazy. My mom, as per usual, was pretty much in denial. She fluctuated between blaming the alcohol (I hadn't been drunk) and saying everyone just kind of lost their shit now and then, that I should just learn from it and not do it again.

I wasn't really convinced.

The thing is, I'd been pretty sure me and Jaden would get married at some point, have kids, do the whole domestic thing...so when I found out I'd been replaced by the newer, sluttier model, I didn't take it very well.

In fact, I kind of went nuts I guess.

I'd almost become a different person. A person I didn't like very much, truthfully.

Now I had a tracker on me. One of those GPS numbers I had to wear on my wrist, and occasionally explain to customers at the diner where I worked. According to the State of California, I wasn't going anywhere for awhile.

Which was too bad, really. After everything died down and I faced the fact that I was on my own again, I wanted nothing more than to leave town...take a nice long sabbatical.

But the man at the podium was talking again, so I forced my mind back on him.

"They weren't able to track down birth parents?" the clerk persisted. "Through DNA records? Through medical records? Those were all international by then, weren't they?"

"No, sir," I said. "And yes, sir...they were." When the clerk continued to stare at me, I felt my face flush a little. "Is this strictly relevant, sir?" I said. "I'm going to be late for work..."

"Place of employment?"

I felt my jaw tighten a little.

A big, biker-looking guy covered in tattoos winked at me, folding massive arms across his chest. The big guys always liked me for some reason. Maybe because I'm smallish for my age.