I was thinking what if Michael had a daughter who he didn't know she even existed. What if her life was the mirror of his past?

Warning this chapter will contain some language and some child abuse.

I stand at the gates looking at the school where my 'Father' was head master. I kept myself hidden in the bushes I was just the product of a fling. My mother went on the downward spiral ever since I was born. I was always the problem for her. She always took her anger out on me if I was even there. The wind was howling in my ear. Even for Scotland this was cold I had to admit. The cold air kept me alert and awake even if I had barely any sleep for a few weeks leading up to this moment in my life. I knew it would not be a good idea I saw the local paper with the headline ' New Headmaster secret murdering past'. I just had to bite my lip and just play it cool. Turning back around I walk down back to the seafront back to where I was staying. The hard, emotional memories came flowing back to my head.

''Mommy look I drew you a picture.'' I said to my mother who was taking heroin in the kitchen. ''Mommy?''I asked again. She snapped up and stood up making the chair fall back to the ground.

''You stupid little bastard.'' She grabbed my arm. She ripped the picture I drew and ripped it in front of my eyes. I could feel my tears well up in my eyes.

''I don't care about your poxy drawing. You are nothing than a mistake.'' She slapped me around my face. I held my burning cheek and just sobbed quietly.

My head clicked back into the present. A few tears fell down my face. They were of pain but of happiness. Thank god that bitch is dead. My lips curled into a smirk before holding my head up eye and walking into my small apartment.