My Story My name is Annabelle. At least, it used to be when I was still alive. I was born on October 31, 1942. Being an only child, I was raised to be independent. My parents were both spies, but were captured and killed as prisoners of war. I too was captured, at 14, eventually and questioned on what I knew. I was tortured. They cut me, tried to drown me, and shocked me. That's how I got my "joker's scar" on the side of my mouth. One day, I was strapped down to a metal table. They electrocuted me, but something went wrong. January 4, 1943. My death was prolonged for hours upon hours until I evetually slipped away at only 15. Yet, my soul was unrest
My Parents' Parting I remember the day my parents got captured like it was yesterday. It was a rainy day, a bad omen I suppose. Our family had just bought a new TV, we were the only ones on the block who could afford one. I knew my parents were Russian spies trying to get nuclear information from their jobs in America. What they didnt tell me, was the risks that came with it. Being a young child, I thought being a spy was the coolest thing, but I soon learned the opposite. Sitting on the couch, my father and mother with me in the middle. There was a loud bang on the door and voices yelling outside. I remember looking up at my dad, fear struck his eyes. I looked over to mother, the expression of panic written all over her face. The front door busted open, S.W.A.T. teams and police of all kinds flowed into our house like ants running away from thier flooded hill. Dad threw me behind the couch before the men could see me. As they turning the corner, I saw t