A lot of people know who I am. I have a bit of a reputation at my school... just a bit, you'll understand. My reputation isn't necessarily a good one, but it's good enough to slide by on.

When I was young, I was a happy pink princess. Then I grew up, and things started changing. But no matter what, I always had my best friend Bonnie. My mom disappeared after I was born and weaned, and my dad died the day my ball popped.

He had always had a weak heart, or so I understood. I thought the ball just scared him.

I used to have an inflatable little beach ball that I'd play with all the time. But one day, my dad was cleaning the house and accidentally stepped on it. I was nine years old.

Pop! went the ball.

Cry cry cry scream cry! came my tantrum.

Out! went the electricity - and though I didn't notice it, all the light on our cul-de-sac.

Heart attack! went my dad.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

After his death, Bonnie's family was kind enough to let me stay with them so I didn't have to go into foster care. However, after that, I was careful to always pick up my toys. Of course I occasionally missed my dad, but staying at my best friend's house was kind of like a paradise.

I'm just warning you now... my life is kind of crazy. You have to understand, I'm not the villain. The villain, in the beginning, is Donald Swartch.