Chapter One: The Beginning

Dear Dairy,

I should probably start at the beginning.  I wouldn’t want to start someone else’s story in the middle, so I won’t start mine there.

It all began on the day I was born. My parents were always after money. They thrived on the high earning money gave them, but they didn’t want to earn money the way everyone else would, you know, wake up and work nine to five. They would lie, cheat, and steal to get want they wanted. When they found out they were having me they were, as any new parents were, excited and nervous.

My mom, Julieana Mariette, was born in a small town and had dreams of moving to a big city.

My dad, on the other hand, grew up in south Detroit and knew how to pick pockets by the age of four. Alexander Flint Robsten, was his name.

They were married on August 8th, 1996 and I was born the following April on the nineteenth.

My life was everything I could have asked for my first four years at least. Then, the year I turned five, my dad won the lottery and they opened a little club, not just any club, a strip club. I was happy. We had plenty of money, enough I alway had what I needed and got what I wanted.

When I turned ten, just this year, I started working at the club. I was a hostess and a waitress. All I did was take people’s money, show them to their seats, and get them drinks. I got this diary the day after my birthday, after my first day of work, I started writing in it every night before bed.

Love,

Annette Marley Robsten

I would write about what happened at school that day or what someone told me then I would write my views on the subject. I started treating like it was a person, instead of a book, I even gave it a name, Charlotte. She became my best friend during times of happiness and sadness.

Charlotte has been there for me since I turned ten years old. She was there when my mom died, the cancer took her from dad and I, she died a week after Christmas, January 1st, 2008 at 3:15 in the afternoon.

That day will forever stay in my memory. My mom was thirty-one when she died, far too young, my dad alway said.