Prologue

I watched a film the other day and it really resonated with me and my life. The film was 'A life less ordinary' and the main character (MC) began with an ordinary life that was dull and uninteresting. An event happened that in the big scheme of things was nothing serious, but it was the straw that broke the camel's back and resulted in the MC taking unexpected action. Fate then intervened and led the MC on a crazy journey.

During that journey, I think the MC would have done anything to have his old life back. It had a happy ending so it was all worth it in the end, but I wondered if, while he was going through hell, he looked back on his previous existence and forgot all the bad, remembering only the good. It was like getting on a roller-coaster. There was no getting off and no way to go back to a time when you hadn't experienced that fear. You just had to grin and bear it. When you got off, you weren't the same person that you were before. Your universe had shifted and nothing would ever be the same.

My old life had a lot of bad in it and yet I look upon it with a wistful smile and nostalgia. What bothered me at the time I now consider to be small and unimportant. Not that there was any way to go back, nor would I want to. I miss my sisters, but when you know your father doesn't love you and your mother, whether she loves you or not, is unwilling to go against his wishes, there is no returning. I think my mother does love me, but I could never forgive her for not loving me enough to even try and protect me.

Chapter 1

I used to get teased a lot. My mother was a devout catholic and didn't believe in contraception so I had a large family and we all lived in a four-bedroom council house in South London. My eldest sister had her own room which was just as well since she had reached her teen years and had become like Jekyll and Hyde. You were never quite sure if she was going to be sweet and caring or bite your head off.

In theory, the other two available bedrooms were divided into a boy and a girl's bedroom. However, I was the runt of the family. My two older brothers and Joseph, who was one year younger than me, were all much bigger and stronger than me and tended to give me hell. Mum got fed up of the arguments and finding me constantly covered in bruises so I was moved into my sisters' room. My two younger sisters were both caring and loved having me there. They did want to involve me with young girl pastimes, like playing with dolls and dancing. I figured if my brothers were going to tease me regardless of what I was doing I could please myself, so I played happily with them.

I wasn't just teased because of my size. I had a very unfortunate birthmark on my right cheek so I had two nicknames in our house. Runt and Ugly Princess. My father was a truck driver so we either saw a lot of him or nothing at all. Even when he was back he spent most of his time at the pub. He very much favoured my brothers and would also call me Runt, but I never felt any malice in it. My relationship with him could probably best be described as indifferent, although, at the time, I still thought he loved me.

It was a comment from him that started me on my crazy journey. Well, that and watching a TV show. He came home from the pub quite early. Most of the time he returned I was in bed, but that day there was a soccer match on. I never was a fan of sport, but I was probably put off because with my small size I was always picked last and struggled to keep up with everyone else. Not a lack of coordination, just running speed and strength.

He came back clearly worse for wear.

“Dad, you're drunk!” I said in surprise. My father did like the occasional beer, but I had never seen him drunk before.

“Yes, and you are ugly, but in the morning I will be sober. Now piss off,” he said irritably.

At the time I didn't know he was misquoting a famous Winston Churchill put down. I just felt upset because my own father was calling me ugly. I asked Mum and she told me that true beauty came from within and that boys didn't need to be pretty. My interpretation of that was that she thought I looked ugly as well. I was feeling upset and down. I couldn't help how I was born and it didn't seem fair.

Dad fell asleep watching the TV, but no one dared to switch the channel. He always controlled the remote when he was home and he had dropped off with the remote clutched in his hands. I ended up watching this talk show that had a guy who could bend spoons with the power of his mind. He believed that you could do anything, all you had to do was believe and focus. He even quoted the bible.

I became very determined that I would solve my ugliness and after watching that programme, I now knew how I was going to do it. Every day I would go to the mirror in the bathroom and imagine that my birthmark was a little bit smaller. I would spend at least five minutes focussing on making myself believe that it had worked and that it was minutely smaller. As soon as I had convinced myself that I had succeeded, I would leave it to the next day.

I was almost nine years old when I started and I didn't find it easy. Initially, it was hard to keep my mind from wandering or to swallow the doubts that would arise, but I was persistent. After two months of this and two weeks after my ninth birthday, Mum stared at me in a weird way and gestured for me to approach. She looked at my face carefully and commented that she thought my birthmark looked smaller and less red.

She shook it off as an oddity, but I was elated and now had external confirmation, my focus work was working. After that, I found it a lot easier to convince myself that it was getting smaller. If one of my doubtful thoughts turned up, I could quash it easily with that memory and knowledge that Mum had noticed it.

A mere two weeks after that my birthmark was completely gone. It was like I had a whole new level of belief and that made it work much faster. Everyone noticed now and I explained how I had done it. My brothers said that I still looked ugly, but my sisters had a completely different reaction. Cathy was six and she had a mole on her cheek that she wanted me to fix. I didn't think it looked bad, but she wasn't happy with it. Mum got involved and took pictures so that we could have a before and after. The boys tried to make me doubt myself but I had evidence every time I looked in the mirror. I knew I could do it and I knew it would work.

Every day, without fail, I made sure to take time to focus on Cathy's face and imagine the mole getting smaller. Within a week, Mum thought she could see a difference and before three weeks were up, the mole was gone. Mum took the after photos and we were all amazed at the difference.

That was when we all started to get a bit excited. Well, except my brothers who had poopooed it. I was thinking that I could help the numerous other people who were either born with disfiguring marks or because of some accident or other ended up with facial damage. My mother suggested a possible occupation of plastic surgeon without the surgery. My older sister Rebecca wanted me to work my mojo to give her bigger boobs. She decided against the idea when I explained that I would have to stare at them for five minutes every day until we had achieved what she wanted. She also called me a pervert.

We weren't sure how big of a deal this really was, so Mum booked me an appointment with our GP to discuss it with him. Father's reaction was not derisive and more thoughtful. He suggested we do another harder test and take lots of photos.

When I think back to those days I remember the heady feeling of success and the bright future that we all could imagine. We were all so naïve. We visited the GP as a giggling gang which was brought down to earth by the negative dismissiveness of the old-timer. He told us that both conditions that we claimed to have cured sometimes clear up on their own anyway. He talked about spontaneous remission which meant the body could randomly resolve any problem and any suggestion that I was responsible for these events was laughable.

Rebecca wanted us to speak to the media, but Mum said that we needed to gather more evidence. We spent a week going through everyone we knew to find suitable candidates.

Rebecca's best friend had an older sister with a hooked nose who swore that she was going to it fixed as soon as she had enough money. Her name was Chloe and she was eager to participate. She came over every day for me to work on her and we took lots of photos. It took a month to remove the hook from her nose, but she still wasn't satisfied.

I needed something to visualise and she needed to work out exactly what she wanted. We ended up scanning a celebrity nose that she liked and digitally pasting it onto her picture and then changing the colour to match her skin tone. It was well beyond my computer skills but Chloe managed it with the help of some of her friends. It took another month for that to work, but work it did. There was some additional difficulty with this method for me. Before I just had to play with the mental picture of what I saw, now I had to remember the picture that we had created and use that instead. Imagining a hooked nose becoming less hooked was a lot easier than imagining something completely different.

I'm not sure she was 100% happy with her new nose, but I also got the impression that she probably never would be happy. She had very low self-esteem with regards to that area in a similar way to my own worries about marks on my face. The pictures came out great. Father did point out that there was no way to prove that Chloe hadn't had plastic surgery. I guess if someone was determined to not believe, nothing you can do or say will sway them. Father did tell us that he would provide the next candidate.

Chapter 2

While I waited for my father to work out who else he wanted me to work on, I tried to work out how to make myself taller. I had been born in the 3rd percentile for length and I never really caught up. My younger brother was both taller and more heavily set compared to me. I had been a sickly child and Mum was always telling me that she didn't think I would survive to reach 5. At one point, I was examined by a paediatric doctor who did some measurements and told me that my eventual height would probably be just under five feet.

I was a bit conflicted about trying to speed up my growth. I liked sleeping with my sisters and didn't want to end up back with my brothers and I was worried about messing with my growth. I thought the most sensible thing to do was wait until I had my full growth and then try and increase it. It would mean that I would have to suffer the taunts from my brothers for some time to come. Then again, my brothers had been teasing me and putting me down my whole life and I suspected they would never change. I decided not to try to change myself unless I felt it was really necessary.

Father returned from work and then left to talk to someone about me and what I could do. He sat me down and told me that the person I was going to be working on was an employee of a very important man. I needed to be respectful and do what I was told. If I succeeded we would be paid and I would get a reward. When my father was talking to me there was such a serious expression on his face that he made me afraid. He had never spoken to me like this or looked at me that way before.

When he came back, he brought this man for me to treat. The guy was dressed in a suit and yet had all sorts of tattoos. He was a man in his thirties without an ounce of fat on him. He was taller than my father, so probably a couple of inches above six foot. His face was expressionless which I think was scarier than a negative look.

My job was to remove a tattoo from his right hand. Mum was going to take pictures so that we had more evidence, but the man just looked at my father who stopped Mum and told her, no photos.

Although my father was away most days this man, who never identified himself, returned every day for me to work on him. The only thing I ever heard him say was 'finished?' when he could see me relax from focussing on his hand. Then he would nod his head and leave. Within two weeks you could see the tattoo fading and it was completely gone after four.

The man stopped coming round after that. The next time my father came home I woke up in the night hearing my parents argue in their bedroom and that morning Mum started crying whenever she looked at me. I was kept home from school so I was alone in the house with Mum. She wouldn't answer any of my worried questions but gave me lots of hugs. I did hear an occasional 'sorry' muttered from her lips.

For a special treat, she made me some hot chocolate. It did taste a bit funny, but we have it so rarely that I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination. Then we cuddled on the sofa watching TV. I couldn't keep my eyes open and Mum stroking my hair didn't help. I let myself fall asleep, knowing I was safe in my Mum's arms.

Looking back on it, it is hard to believe how innocent I was. All the signs were there if I had looked for them. I was only 9 and at the time I was confident in the love of my parents. I forgave myself my foolishness and carried the lessons I learned for the rest of my life.

I woke up groggy and confused. Nothing made sense. I wasn't in my bed, I wasn't at my house and there was no one around. When you are part of a large family you are never alone. It turned out I wasn't even in the same country. It wasn't long before my carers introduced themselves and explained my situation. I don't want to dwell on that part of my life because, to be frank, I spent the first few weeks terrified.

Apparently, what I was able to do was not unique. There were practitioners in China who used the same method to help heal people. The big difference was that I kept treating someone repeatedly until my focussed image matched their real one and, mainly due to ignorance, I didn't have any preconceived notions of what was possible. Using this idea they wanted to stretch what I was able to achieve.

I spent the next three years as a pampered prisoner for a criminal organisation. I don't think it was one particular flavour, rather a neutral party that all could visit. I was informed that my family would get a percentage of all my earnings. I was offered the opportunity to keep in touch with them, but in my anger over their actions, I decided that I wanted nothing to do with them. I still cried myself to sleep wanting my Mum. As I got a bit wiser I realised that it was better if they didn't think I had any feelings for my family otherwise they might use them as leverage over me. The money that my family received was part of the deal my father came up with when he sold me to them. They told me that if I did my job honestly and fairly then I would be treated respectfully, but if I gave them cause, I would be beaten and certain privileges removed. Not that I had many privileges.

I intended to never give them cause, although it did happen once. A man touched me inappropriately. I threatened him with causing his manhood to fall off and he left me alone after that. I have no idea what he told my carers, but I was given the cane after he left. I suspect he just asked for his money back and that was enough cause.

I didn't mind the job itself too much. I mean I loved the idea of helping people, but I hated my loss of freedom. My carers tried to be friendly towards me, and I tried to show the same attitude back, at least superficially. I never forgot that they were my jailers which was reinforced whenever I asked for some freedom that was universally denied.

They did push me to increase the range of what I could treat. I explained my process and what I did and they used that to work out ways to help me perform better. I had a fancy computer that could allow me to digitally alter someone's face or body to help me create an image that I could work with. It also showed me pictures of healthy tissue to help me visualise. I needed it less and less as constant use of my imagination and focus enabled me to develop something close to a photographic memory. I needed it more to help my customers show me what they wanted.

I was taught English language and comprehension and then I was trained by a tutor in human anatomy, Russian, Italian and Spanish. The anatomy was to help with my mental images and the languages were to help communicate with my patients. All other forms of education were denied me as they didn't want to pollute my mind in any way. If I had a question that they couldn't answer they would look it up and explain it to me the next time they visited. Later they added drawing and painting as they wanted to occupy me and also give me something that might help with my visualisations.

I studied hard, but still spent a lot of time bored. I racked my brain to find something that they would let me do and eventually came up with learning a musical instrument. So I managed to wheedle piano lessons out of them.

The range of conditions that they asked me to treat was very varied. Sometimes I was asked to alter a persons face so that they were not recognisable, or given other non-serious conditions to treat. I even worked on one young girl to restore her hymen. Those sessions were extremely uncomfortable for both of us. I was also used to treat people with gunshot wounds and other injuries. However, the majority of the patients were in a very ill state. I think my services were offered to those who would pay the most.

Most people got better under my care, but not all. I couldn't treat cancer, or more accurately I couldn't cure cancer. I could restore damaged or dysfunctioning organs, but the cancer itself would still return. Regardless of what I was treating, it still took me a month of constant daily visits to achieve my imagined outcome. I didn't have to diagnose their conditions either. There was usually a doctor who was with me on the initial consultation who would tell me what I needed to work on.

Most came daily, but a few took up one of the multiple beds that were available for long-stay patients and it was one of these patients who helped me to escape.

Chapter 3

Clara was in a sorry state when I first met her. The doctor went through her list of injuries and it was quite obvious that she was lucky to be alive. Her face was completely untouched but both arms and legs had various fractures and the most serious injuries were to her ribs because they pierced her left lung. If they had brought her to me when she was first injured I think she would have died. Nothing that I can do is that quick.

Bones are not the easiest for me to treat either. I knew what the bones should look like and the difference between male and female versions, but everyone is different so I couldn't use a generic size. However, I had been treating for almost three years by that point, so between my explanation of what I needed and previous experience when she arrived, she also had everything I needed to treat her properly. She had already been in hospital for a while. Her various issues were stable and they hadn't put her through surgery and pinned everything in place. She had been through various scans and they had reconstructed bone models for me to use, from those scans. I would also have to work on her lung and all the soft tissue that had been damaged by the rib's entry. Scans later, after my treatment, usually showed complete normality, with no evidence of any previous injury after my usual four weeks.

With most patients, what was wrong with them was the most that I found out about them. It wasn't that they couldn't talk to me, but they were given rules about what they could include in any conversation with immediate removal if they violated those rules. This meant it was unusual to hear even a thank you. I was monitored all the time so it was a real threat. No one had actually been removed for this reason, but a few had been given warnings.

Clara didn't really care what happened to her. When I first met her she was fatalistic, and, although she appreciated my help, would rather have just died. The threat of not being treated had no effect so she was happy to properly engage me in conversation.

Her injuries were the result of her abusive husband. I have a feeling she was sexually abused at the same time but didn't want to ask her. He took a baseball bat to her when she missed a phone call and he accused her of cheating. If she had gone to a normal hospital it may have been six months to a year before she was mostly recovered. Instead, with my help, it would be a full recovery in just six weeks from the incident. The first two weeks were all about survival and stabilising her condition in hospital. None of it was reported to the police, of course. Her husband was the son of a mafia crime boss.

Her room did have a TV which had to be switched off when I visited. Because of her various fractures, she was pretty much immobilised and I don't think the TV entertained her that much, so she asked me to visit frequently and it helped with my boredom as well. I was allowed to talk about myself so I answered her questions quite happily. She learned what I could do and how I did it. I think she recognised that I was lonely and did her best to fill that gap. She could tell me about herself but had to be careful not to include any details that might bring about censure.

When she left I was upset and sad for days. It was about three weeks later when all hell broke loose. There was a raid by the FBI. It was the first time it had happened, but my guards were prepared and shoved me into a hidden panic room behind the wardrobe. I spent an uncomfortable 24 hours in there on my own, using cat litter to relieve my bladder and drinking some bottled water that was available.

I came out hungry and depressed thinking that I would never escape. However, to my surprise, the Feds were waiting for my door to open and I was immediately hustled out of the building, into a windowless van and driven off. I was taken to a warehouse where I had to strip off all my clothes and they ran an electrical device over me.

The bastards had implanted a chip behind my left knee. There was a makeshift operating table there, so I guessed they had suspected something. I was given a local anaesthetic and it was removed. Then I was given new clothes. I was then led to a safe house where two men questioned me. I told them everything I could, but I don't think they really believed me. Still, they didn't accuse me of lying and eventually, I was released to explore the rest of the house. I was given strict instructions to not even attempt to leave. For my own safety, of course.

They gave me colour pencils and paper. I think they didn't believe me when I told them my birthday. My height gave the impression of being much younger. I did my best to remember the different people I had been asked to alter their facial features. I drew them as best as I could, as well as their new features. I didn't really trust the new men that I met. It wasn't that they were untrustworthy, it was more that I had learnt to be suspicious of everybody. If your own father can sell you for money and your mother can go along with it, you don't end up with a lot of trust in people.

When I wasn't drawing I watched TV. I hadn't watched any for three years, and I enjoyed my reintroduction, especially when I was introduced to Netflix and I could choose to watch what I liked. I asked for a piano keyboard and a set of headphones so that I wouldn't disturb anybody. I had been practising every day for at least two hours, so not having it available was like an itch I couldn't scratch. They told me they would see what they could do, but I got the impression that they said that to just stop me pestering them.

I asked them what was going to happen to me, but none of the available men, of which there were four, were decision-makers and I very much got the impression that they were waiting for something. They were also treating me like I was five. I decided to start working on a different look for myself. I used a mirror in the bathroom and started changing the colour of my eyes to a hazel colour and separating them. I pushed my jaw to a more manly square type in the hope that it would make me look older. My nose I made smaller but wider. None of the changes would be immediate but rather than my usual technique of picturing the whole face, by working on all the elements individually, I could stop as soon as I was happy with everything, so it would be done in less than four weeks.

The food was mostly take-outs, cereal and toast. The complete opposite of my diet before my liberation. Since I hadn't been able to leave the apartment and now couldn't leave the safe house I resorted to practising my yoga. I had been doing yoga almost since the beginning. They wanted me to be healthy for a long time so I got very carefully tailored healthy meals and was encouraged to exercise. One of my carers did yoga with me every morning and I had to use either a treadmill or a stationary bike every other day. I did cheat a bit as I imagined my different muscles stretching themselves to make yoga easier and concentrated on controlling my heartbeat and breathing. It helped me appear calm when I was nervous. I believed that I had to appear strong in front of my guards and not let them see my fear.

After three days of this, I was taken to another safe house. The car was driven into a garage and we waited for the garage to close before I was allowed to get out. This was a suburban house in a very ordinary street. That was about as much as I could say since I was not informed about pretty much anything.

I was guided up to the kitchen and to my surprise and joy, there was Clara, cooking a meal. As soon as she saw me, she cracked open a wide grin and opened her arms for a hug. One hand holding a spatula and the other a knife, she could only really hug me with her forearms, but it was the best hug I could remember.

Chapter 4

Clara had made a deal with the Feds. She would raid her husband's safe and gather as much evidence as she could if they rescued me. It wasn't as selfless as it might seem. The family used her love for her sister and parents as leverage to keep her in line. She realised that it wouldn't be long before she was killed if she did nothing and knowing what I could do gave her an opportunity to get out.

If and only if I was available to change her family and herself, of course, into new identities that could be supplied by the FBI, then they could all move on with their lives. Provided that no one was stupid and contacted someone they shouldn't, they should be safe. I would be staying with her and her family for four weeks working on their faces and voices. Voice recognition was possible, so I would need to correct that as well. It wouldn't be the first time and she had already guessed what I would need.

She had come prepared. There was a clean computer that was not able to connect to the internet loaded with the programs I needed to come up with new facial features. It also had a very effective cleaning program so that when we had finished the computer could be scrubbed. The ideal way of altering peoples voices was to use a camera to view the voice box and concentrate on the changes you wanted, however, that was impractical. Instead, I would work on either tightening or loosening it until they were happy with the result. Because it would happen so gradually, I would record their initial voices and then make new recordings to compare until they were happy with the change.

Wigs were useful for changing hair colour, as it made visualising it easier. Original hair would usually fall out and new hair sprout quickly. This can be distressing and wigs can make you feel better about it. She had also brought various different bras so that the women could choose their cup size and shape. I could also do minor changes in height quite easily, I just needed to know what they wanted.

Height was an important subject for me and with my increased knowledge of anatomy I had worked out ways to make small changes without having to worry about skeletal changes. Changes to the height of intervertebral discs and soft tissue structures like cartilage and meniscus tissues can increase or decrease your height up to a couple of inches. More than that probably wouldn't be wise. I was already working on increasing my height.

Obviously, any distinguishing features needed to be removed and it was sometimes a good idea to add new ones in different places. I don't think the Feds really believed what I could do, but for Clara's testimony and evidence were willing to go along with her wishes.

Every week we would move to a new safe house, but the team looking after us didn't change. By the second week when all the hair had come out and all their voices were clearly different, as well as the beginning of the facial changes, the Feds started to take me more seriously. I was interviewed again. This time Clara refused for me to go through it without her present. I had to go through how I did what I do and what results I had achieved. I showed them the pictures that I had drawn of the different clients that I had altered and they took them away to look into them.

I didn't really trust the FBI. Initially, all their focus was on Clara and now it was shifting towards me, but not in a good way. Clara had offered to become my foster mother, which I had accepted and even started altering my face to suggest a family relationship with Clara's chosen new face. Both myself and Clara thought that was a done deal, but suddenly, when they knew how useful I could be, stumbling blocks appeared. Apparently, It would be too dangerous for me to go with Clara. Clara had already given her evidence to the FBI and so had very little to bargain with and we both worried that I had replaced one prison for another.

I wasn't against helping people and realised that I could do a lot of good if I worked for the Feds, but...

I wanted my freedom. Once I had grown up and was in a better position I figured I could offer my services but before that, I didn't want to have all my choices taken away from me. I deliberately left the laptop computer that I was using for the facial imagery recording sound in the room where the guy in charge, Jack, usually moved to when he wanted a private conversation.

By the end of the 3rd week, my suspicions were confirmed and I knew I needed to escape my new prison. I confided in Clara, showing her my evidence and we started planning my escape. She was worried about me. The FBI would be creating her new ID so I wouldn't be able to go with her. We worked out a plan for me to escape but I would then be on my own. A twelve-year-old boy with no identity. Organised crime had a lot of resources but the federal government had even more. I would have to go the extra mile to stay out of their clutches.

A few days later everyone was essentially complete. Now the presence of the guards was more likely to highlight our presence that their absence so we moved again and lost all the guards apart from Jack who would become my legal guardian. We were now waiting for our legal paperwork and readying ourselves for our new life. Well, everyone except me. We were now staying in a motel on the first floor in different rooms and Clara went out on her own to buy a car, clothes and other odds and ends.

She had a wad of cash that she had liberated from her husband and she didn't want any further help from the Feds as she felt it could be traced. She was quite happy finding her own job and starting fresh. Her husband's territory and my original location turned out to be New York, so she was moving to California.

In order for me to be free, we had decided that I needed to escape and get four weeks of isolation for me to change my identity. She didn't want to know what my new one was going to be, but she suggested that I go as radically different as possible. Jack was keeping a very close eye on me, but now it was just him, I felt confident that I could escape.

Clara who was now called Sarah, said her goodbyes, got in her car and seemed to drive off. She had made sure that she wasn't traceable. She said she would buy a mobile phone when she got to California and the car itself was an older model with no GPS. Once she established herself it would be easy for the Feds to find her since they gave her the ID she was now using. Her journey, however, should be difficult to trace.

I was sleeping in the same room as Jack. I had made a point of waking up the past few nights and going to the toilet and taking my time, so Jack, even if he woke up, shouldn't be concerned. This time, however, I went straight to the small window that was above the toilet. I climbed onto the toilet and as quietly as I could climb out. I was still one story up, but, as planned, I found a ladder waiting for me. I hurried down and quickly put on the clothes that were in a plastic bag at the bottom. I walked down the street until a car pulled up beside me. Sarah let me in and we sped off.

Chapter 5

Sarah was having serious second thoughts about our plan.

“I think we need to come up with a different plan,” she said. She was driving and looking straight ahead, but I could see her worry by the tapping of her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Have you thought of a better one?” I asked curiously.

She sighed. “No. But I am not comfortable leaving you on your own. You are only 12-years-old.”

“It's not ideal, no. If the FBI was willing to be more reasonable none of this would be necessary,” I said with a bit of heat and then heaved a heavy sigh. “If wishes were fishes we would all cast nets. It is what it is. I can't think of a better option. I guess we have until we arrive to come up with another solution.”

“Say you survive a month on your own. What are you going to do then? I will give you some cash, but it can be taken off you by anybody bigger than you. How are you going to survive?” she asked worriedly.

“I have some plans and you know we agreed that I wouldn't discuss that with you. Worse comes to worst, I can use a burner phone to call Jack from the FBI. I would have to be in pretty dire straights to use it though.” Truthfully I didn't really have a clue, I was just going to have to wing it. If I told her that though, she would never agree to leave me.

“Grrr...”

“Look it is a shitty situation,” I admitted.

“Oi, language.”

I ignored her unhappiness about my use of bad language. Let's be honest, it was a struggle to look at my situation and find non-foul language to describe it.

“The mafia is after you, but probably only one small branch. Every criminal organisation is after me and so is the federal government. The only way I am going to escape is to do something extreme. And to do that I need to be completely isolated for four weeks. There can be no places with cameras or CCTV and those things are so prevalent now, the only answer is away from civilisation,” I continued. She knew all this and logically had agreed with me. She had managed to add a lot of flesh to the bones of my plan. Without her, none of it would be possible.

“I could stay with you,” she said quietly.

“If you disappeared for a month, the FBI would guess that you had been helping me. That would never end well and I could never stay with you without compromising my new identity.” I didn't want to add that it put her in greater danger if she knew what my new identity looked like. I trusted her, but anyone can be broken, one way or another.

I could see tears leaking down her face. “You are a child! How can they force these choices on a twelve-year-old child!.”

“I don't think I am a child anymore,” I responded gently. “I have had to grow up quickly."

She wiped her face with her sleeve leaving makeup smeared across her face. “Promise me you will keep trying to think of alternatives. You are smart, smarter than me, please use your brain and come up with something else.”

“I will try, but I have been trying for days. It's not fair, it's not right, but it is what it is. Did you manage to get everything?”

“Yes, and a lot more besides. I asked for help from the army surplus guy and he made some good suggestions. I will need to help you establish camp. There is no way you can carry it all and you need access to water. I have a small filtration system that you can set up, but you need water for everything and you can't carry it, it is too heavy.”

“As long as there is no big delay to you arriving in California, you should be fine. I think they will suspect you, but if there is clear evidence that you got to Cali without too much delay they shouldn't press you too hard.”

“Don't worry about me. Concentrate on you. Besides we are taking the scenic route to avoid all the cameras. They will expect it to take a few days,” Sarah replied.

“Have you found a good location?” I asked.

“A few possibles. We won't really know until we can see it for ourselves. Your requirements were a bit tricky. Somewhere that is not going to be too cold at this time of year. We are at the beginning of September and I have added a couple of weeks to your normal four, just in case. So that means it needs to not get too cold before the end of October. Has enough vegetation for you to be well hidden. Is relatively close to a road but with no hiking trails. Not too far from some kind of civilisation.”

“A service station or house would suffice,” I added. “I don't need people until after my four weeks.”

“For your plan that you are not going to tell me about?”

“That's right,” I said with a wan smile.

“It's going to be so lonely,” Sarah said with a sigh.

“I have spent three years with people barely talking to me and those who did were usually my guards. I'll survive.”

“I wasn't talking about you,” Sarah said, smiling.

“Why you!” I said indignantly. I was tempted to tickle her to lighten the mood further, but I was worried about her crashing the car.

There was a period of quiet where we were both lost in our thoughts.

“I like the idea of you being near a service station. It may mean the road is more of a major road or the service station would go out of business, but people just stop and go from those places, they don't explore nearby. If you were in trouble you would always have someplace to go and they are usually open all the time,” Sarah said thoughtfully.

“Works for me,” I agreed. If it made Sarah more comfortable then hopefully she would sleep better at night. After we found my campsite and loaded it with everything we thought I would need, we would probably never see each other again. Maybe if I managed to establish myself enough so that I wasn't worried about everyone who was chasing me, but that didn't seem likely.

We made the journey over three days. We didn't want any evidence of staying at motels and although I suggested Sarah get a decent nights sleep while I stayed in the car, she wouldn't hear of it. Instead, she slept in the car with me when she felt the need and we kept moving as much as possible. When we stopped at any service station, I would keep hidden and Sarah would buy some food and use the facilities. I had to make do with filling a bottle in the car or fertilizing the occasional tree. We had copious amounts of MRE's for additional meals and moist bio-degradable wipes to attempt to clean ourselves up. Water Sarah bought from the service stations. Once we arrived in Sarah's target area which was the Sequoia National Forest in California, we started visiting every service station we could find to assess its suitability.

We settled on one that was close to the entrance to the National Park. From our observation, people did stop there but were eager to get back in their cars to complete their journeys. There was a forest area within a hundred yards and a small dirt road, a couple of hundred yards past the station that led into the woods but was a dead end. We parked the car in the dead-end and walked towards the service station to get our bearings. It was about a mile away. The only question was water. We couldn't find any streams but had noted that the service station was open from 6am to 11pm. We were hoping that they had an external tap and no CCTV cameras. We searched out a suitably hidden spot and set up my tent. That night we crept to the station and luck was with us. Around the side of the toilet, there was a tap that wasn't in view of the front cameras. I filled up five 2 litre pop bottles and settled them in my backpack and carried them back to the tent. Sarah was with me, but this was also a test to see if I could do it.

The next morning was very awkward. Initially, we spent the time taking everything from the car and loading up my tent, but once that was done, we had to say goodbye. Clara/Sarah had rescued me twice. The first time, clear self-interest was involved, but to help me escape the evil clutches of the FBI meant taking a huge risk and absolutely no reward. She had offered to become my mother and adopt me. She cared about me in a way no one else ever had. My own mother would have handed me back to the FBI, I have no doubt. My father would have demanded to be paid.

She didn't just rescue my body, I think she rescued my soul as well. I had become very untrusting and cynical. She forced me to realise that not everybody was only concerned with themselves. I didn't suddenly trust everyone, but she had put a major chink in my emotional armour. I was a very strong-willed individual and was beginning to have significant doubts that love was real. She taught me that it could be. And I had to say goodbye.

Chapter 6

I allowed myself that day to mope then I had to get down to business. I had a lot more setting up to do and I had to choose my new look. My four-week clock only really started from when I had started working on changing myself. That had to take priority.

I needed to change myself so thoroughly that no one would even think to guess that my new body was me. I would also have to either stop treating people or, at least, make sure they weren't aware that I was treating them. The truth was that I knew if someone was suffering I would struggle to do nothing just to keep myself safe. No more playing the piano and I would have to try speaking less so my accent or my level of English Language wasn't as obvious. I definitely would avoid talking in Russian or Italian. Spanish was fairly common, so I could get away with that one.

My normal height was a ridiculous four feet four inches, but I had stretched my body out by building the height of my intervertebral discs and other soft tissues so when Jack measured me for my new ID I was four feet six inches. The average height for a twelve-year-old boy was about five feet.

To work out what I was going to do, I had to think what they would never suspect me of doing and try and make myself not stand out. My height meant that I could never be an average twelve-year-old. I was going to have to pretend that I was an eight-year-old. I also wasn't sure if I could change my height beyond adding or subtracting a couple of inches. If that was the case I would end up at about five feet, if the doctors were right. Five feet for a boy would stand out and both Jack and my former owners probably knew everything about my height problems. That course was clearly too dangerous.

The logical answer was to pretend to be a girl. Five feet high was small for a girl but common enough that it wouldn't stand out. Until then I would have to pretend to be an eight-year-old girl. To be honest, I was scared of the idea. I had no experience being a girl, but I knew all the anatomical differences. My knowledge was very patchy. I knew as much as or maybe more anatomy than your average doctor, but I had no underlying explanations. I didn't even know how everything functioned. I knew what it looked like and where it was supposed to be, but that was it.

Girls seemed like a different species so deciding to become one of them was very frightening. It was the logical choice for a number of reasons. I could reduce my height to four foot two inches and that wouldn't be off the charts for an eight-year-old girl. Everyone knew I was sensitive about my height so the idea that I would reduce it willingly was unthinkable. I had also shown no desire to dress up as a girl or even play with girl stuff. I was pretty sure that none of my mannerisms came off as feminine. Changing someone from male to female would require a lot of work and focus. I had never done anything that extensive before and although I didn't doubt that I could do it, I didn't think any of my enemies would predict me even trying. I did know that there were all different types of girls, from girly-girls to tom-boys. Provided I had the right equipment, and physical looks, no one would accuse me of being a boy. Maybe boyish behaviour, but that was acceptable for a girl. Strangely, if it was the other way around it could have gotten me in trouble. A boy with girlish behaviours is for some reason unacceptable. I never understood that.

Everyone had kept me ignorant for a reason. If I knew something was impossible, I either wouldn't attempt it or wouldn't believe it would work, thus creating a self-fulfilling prophesy. In my case, I knew what organs were necessary, what skeletal changes and what outward appearances needed to be to become female, so I could imagine them and believe that my system would work. I had never done so much on one person before. I made a list to make sure I attended to all the aspects every day.

I worked on my hands and feet to make them smaller and my internal elements to reduce my height. My pelvis and hips I altered to a female configuration. I didn't have to make too many changes there as an eight-year-old hasn't been through puberty. I removed my hair from everywhere. It was gutting to will my pubic hair away since I had so much appreciated it appearing originally. It was a sign that puberty was coming. It wasn't appropriate for an eight-year-old though, so it had to go.

I made my face more feminine, changing the shape of my jaw, my cheekbones, my eye shape and colour and my nose. My lips became fuller and my eyebrows finer. I chose a medium brown hair colour and imagined it down past my shoulders. I slowly tightened my voice box, testing it out each morning until I thought it belonged to an eight-year-old girl.

Then I worked on the internal organs by imagining two healthy ovaries leading to fallopian tubes, a uterus followed by a vagina. I pictured my bladder moving and my prostate dissolving then I followed that imagery to its external configuration where my urethra now came out below my penis, my penis shrank to become my clitoris with my foreskin becoming the clitoral hood and my external vision of my vagina joined my internal one. My testicles disappeared and the skin changed to make up my lips. Having spent a month treating a girl to re-create her hymen, I knew exactly what everything should look like.

I did one more thing that I had never done before. I stared into the mirror and told myself that I was an eight-year-old girl until I felt it was true and then repeated that each day.

Although I had a long list of things to focus on, that still didn't take up my whole day. I wanted to make sure that I stayed healthy so I carefully explored my surrounding area until I was familiar with it and then started a jogging routine to add to my morning yoga. The jogging I did in the evening as it warmed me up nicely before I went to bed.

To try and keep my possessions safe I put a net over my tent and then tied branches and leaves to do my best to make it blend in. I was never sure how effective it was since I always knew where my tent was. Hopefully, it would never be tested.

Food wasn't a problem since I had plenty of MRE's. I thought it was wonderful that I could have hot food without even making a fire. The taste was OK. My diet had been carefully controlled for three years so I was used to having little choice regarding my food options. I struggled to finish them, but then they were designed as a complete meal for an adult man.

My biggest difficulty was keeping myself clean and washing my clothes. Sarah had provided some detergent and this travel wash bag which was sealable and had ridges in it. It had a set of instructions and you could use it to wash your clothes, but I never felt it properly got anything clean. For myself I mainly used these bio-degradable wet wipes and then once a week I would brace myself and upend a two-litre bottle of cold water over my naked body, soap myself up and then use two more two-litre bottles to rinse. Then I scrubbed myself with a towel. Not pleasant.

Sarah knew I would get bored so she had supplied a kindle with books preloaded. It also came with a solar recharging unit and a mobile phone that could also be charged. The phone was something Sarah called a burner phone. It had about thirty dollars of credit on it. If it was ever used to call someone who might want to trace the call, I needed to throw the phone away. Otherwise, it was mainly there for emergencies. I also had about two thousand dollars in used bills. She had offered me more but we were stretching what I could claim to have either been given or stolen as it was.

The four weeks passed and slowly I had less and less things to concentrate on as they completed their transformation. I had a weird mix of emotions as my body approached my imagined image. A part of me was horrified especially as my manhood disappeared, part of me was satisfied and a small part of me was saying 'what do you expect? You are an eight-year-old girl'. I pushed through any negative feelings that I had, knowing that this was my best chance of freedom and a full life. Of course, I couldn't know whether my internal restructuring was successful. Clearly, outwardly, I now looked like a girl, I just had to rely on my past success where organs were made healthy after twenty-eight days to encourage my belief that my internal changes were both successful and complete after four weeks.

I decided that the day everything was complete would become my official birthday, so I turned eight on October the third. Then I had to think of a name. David definitely didn't work and Doc which had been my unofficial name for the last three years couldn't be used either.

I decided that I needed a real girly name. Something that had no connotations with any male name. I debated between Lilly, Rose and Ruby. Rose an inner voice decided, so I went with that. If I was asked, my name was Rose.

Now that my new identity was complete I needed to move on to the next part of my plan, only I didn't really have one. If I wanted to approach someone I had three choices. I could wait for the service station to be quiet and introduce myself to the server, I could approach a family when they stopped to refuel or I could approach the one person who had parked his car in the dead-end every Sunday and danced in the woods.

In my mind, I had labelled him Billy from Billy Elliot although I wasn't quite sure if I should give him a female name. He turned up in male clothing but changed in his car into a dress. He would spend time doing his makeup in the car mirror and putting on a wig and brushing it out. Lastly, he would put on a pair of high heels and start walking. Initially, I was frightened that he was going to find my hideaway, but he never travelled that far from his car. After walking for a bit, his face would light up and he would start dancing. There was no music that I could hear, but there was a freedom to his movements that just spoke of joy. Sometimes he fell over which wasn't surprising for someone wearing heels in a forest. That didn't seem to phase him. He would laugh and continue until tired and then just walk again. After the dancing, his walk had a more feminine cadence to it, like he had shaken off his masculinity.

Two to three hours later, Billy's shoulders would slump and he would return to the car and reverse the transformation. The smile of before a distant memory as sadness seemed to soak into the whole scene. I caught myself with tears in my eyes sometimes, although I didn't know what was wrong.

The next Sunday he was back again. The same scenario repeated itself each time. Logically, I knew my best chance of a sympathetic audience was from a family, preferably one with small kids of their own. But. There was something about Billy's sadness that drew me in. I wanted to know why he/she was so sad. I wanted to fix it so I could bask in the joy without that horrible ending. So I waited another week.

Chapter 7

Before I was ready to meet up with Billy, I needed to organise. If I ended up leaving with Billy, I wouldn't have a chance to come back to my campsite. I didn't want to leave all my stuff to be discovered, but I also needed to be able to retrieve everything if I didn't leave with Billy. I made two piles, one that I thought I could take with me and the rest. I had to base what I could take with me on what I could reasonably have gotten a hold of or couldn't live without and what I would be able to carry.

My kindle I really wanted to have with me, but I didn't really have a good explanation for. I would just have to say that a nice lady gave it to me and leave it as a mystery. My phone I would take in case Billy was not nice and I needed rescuing. Again not an easy one to explain, but necessary.

Into my backpack, I put my sleeping bag, one pack of my wet wipes, my two mirrors, some of my cash, the rest of the cash I hid in my inside pocket of my winter jacket, my Kindle, burner phone and the solar charger.

I decided against taking any food since MRE's might be hard to explain. All my clothes were boy clothes and were a little too large, especially my shoes, so I was only going to take what I was wearing.

Sunday morning I collapsed the tent, rolled all the stuff that I was leaving inside the tent coverings and shallowly buried it all, that way I could unearth it and start again if things went pear-shaped. I then had a wash and put on the cleanest clothes that I had, brushed my hair and made my way towards the dead-end. I sat in a bush that I had used previously when I was watching Billy and waited.

Rather than allowing myself to become bored, I pulled out my kindle and carried on reading Treasure Island. The book is quite riveting when you get past the beginning bit so I was almost startled when I heard the car coming down the dirt road.

I didn't want to approach him straight away. I wanted another chance to observe his strange behaviour before making up my mind. At that point in my life, I was very ignorant of most things that were out of the ordinary. If I had ever met a man dressed as a woman before, I hadn't noticed it. The good side of that is that no one had ever expressed an opinion on the matter, good or bad, so I had a completely open mind. My main reaction was curiosity. Why was he doing that? The emotions that Billy went through seemed extreme and always ended up sad, so I knew something was wrong and my response to that was a desire to help.

I waited until he had done his dance and was walking with a happy smile on his face before I made my move. My gut feeling was that this was a good person. When he was facing away from me I manoeuvred out of my bush. He heard the rustling and so had turned back towards me with an anxious look on his face.

“Hello,” I said.

“Err.. hello,” he replied.

I walked towards him.

“Why do you do that?” I asked him.

“Do what?”

“Dress as a woman,” I clarified.

“I err... am one?” she answered with an unsure questioning tone.

“Oh. That makes sense then.” I now knew I needed to think of him as a her. It was confusing to see someone who appeared to be two different people and a relief to know which one was real.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked me.

“Sure.”

“Where are your Mommy and Daddy?” she asked looking around.

I needed to act my part now. I brought back my memories from when I woke up in New York, alone, afraid, aware that my parents had sold me. When this had happened to me I had held very tightly to my emotions, crying on the inside, trying my hardest not to show weakness. Now I felt tears bubbling up and this time I couldn't control them, even if I wanted to. I burst into tears. I couldn't think about anything but the misery of knowing that your parents don't love you.

I was very soon enveloped in a warm hug.

“There, there, it will be alright. I promise,” she said, stroking my hair.

Her words were nice and the hug nicer, but it didn't help me to get a hold of my emotions. It almost seemed to draw more out of me. I just stayed in her arms and wept my heart out. Eventually, I felt myself let something go and I could calm down. My eyes felt sore, my nose felt stuffed and yet, I felt a bit better.

“Sorry,” I said. Sniffle, sniffle.

“That's alright, honey. What's your name?”

“Rose. What's yours?”

She hesitated for a second. “Rebecca,” she said with a wry smile. “What happened to your parents?” she asked gently.

“They sold me to some bad men, so I ran away. You can't tell anyone or they'll send me back. I don't want to be a prisoner again,” I responded, shaking my head for emphasis.

Rebecca gasped. “Did they... did they do something to you?”

“I listened at the door and heard they wanted to, so I ran away.” I started edging myself away from her as if I was looking to run away again. “You're not going to give me back to them are you?” I asked, looking around.

“No. I couldn't live with myself if I gave you back to bad people.”

“You promise?” I asked holding out my pinky finger.

She smiled. “I pinky promise,” she replied, shaking my pinky with hers.

Rebecca walked me towards her car holding my hand.

Internally I marvelled at my performance. I was pretty sure that I was behaving how an eight-year-old girl would behave. A part of me that was growing responded 'that's because you are an eight-year-old girl.' I didn't find it a struggle. It came naturally so I listened to that voice and agreed. I am an eight-year-old girl.

When we got to the car, Rebecca paused for a few moments and then she turned towards me and crouched down so we were a similar height.

“Honey, I need to explain a few things that are going to seem a bit strange. I am a girl here,” Rebecca said pointing towards her head, “and here,” she now pointed towards her heart, “but the rest of me looks like a man. Legally, I was born a man which means the world looks at me as a man. I can change that and I will, but it costs a lot of money that I don't have just yet. So I have to keep Rebecca, my real self, a secret and I need you to keep that secret as well. Can you do that for me, Rose?”

I nodded my head with a solemn expression on my face. “What do I call you?” I asked.

“Brian,” she replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. This is what was making her sad. She clearly needed to get rid of Brian and become Rebecca.

I gently grabbed hold of her head with one hand on each side of her face and leaned forward to look deep into her eyes. “I will call you Brian, but I will know you are Rebecca,” I told her.

She kissed me on the forehead. “Thank you.” I could see her eyes were moist and she blinked rapidly to stop her tears.

She explained what she was doing as she was removing all traces of Rebecca. I think she was doing it so that she didn't startle me when the wig came off and then continued for everything else.

When I was strapped in the passenger seat Rebecca looked at me with a frown.

“We are going to need to get you a booster seat.” Rebecca then fiddled with her phone and set up the navigation to the nearest Wallmart.

“Where are we going?” I asked her. I knew she was presenting as Brian now and others would treat her that way, but I couldn't stop thinking that she was Rebecca. I mean if your heart and head say you are a girl, that is what matters.

“We are going to Bakersfield to have some lunch and get a car booster seat. I don't want the police to pull us over and without that seat, they would have every reason to. Then I am taking you home with me. You can stay with me until I can figure out how to keep you safe. If anyone asks you are my niece, Rose Turing.”

“OK. Thank you. I have to admit this strap doesn't feel very comfortable,” I admitted. The shoulder strap was digging into my neck. I guess four inches really makes a difference.

“How old are you, Rose?”

“Eight. My birthday is October the third.”

“That was only a few days ago. I think we should celebrate it. How about some ice cream,” she asked with a smile.

“Yes, please,” I said enthusiastically.

Rebecca chuckled.

“Umm... could I buy a few clothes? I have some money,” I admitted.

“Where did you... never mind. Of course, we will go shopping after we have eaten. You keep your money, this will be my treat. What clothes do you have in your bag.”

“Thank you, Rebecca,” I replied. “I don't have any clothes.”

“I love you calling me that, but try and avoid that in front of others, please.”

I thought furiously. “Umm, can I call you Bee? I will be thinking that it is B for Becca and everyone else will think it is B for Brian.”

“Bee?” she turned towards me with a smile. “I like it! Call me Bee.”

Chapter 8

We were quiet for a while. I'm not sure what Bee was thinking, but I was trying to work out how I could help her without giving away my ability. If I was to change her like I was itching to, I would be found out easily. However, I was thinking that I could do some subtle changes to her face to feminise it, stop the hair from growing there, smooth out her Adam's apple, and any internal changes wouldn't be visible and none of it would be blamed on me. I thought I could even get away with changing her pelvis and hips. Bee would notice it as her clothes wouldn't fit her the same, but I couldn't see her thinking that I had anything to do with it.

It would only be possible if I was staying with her for a month and I didn't know if that was going to happen. I knew she had promised me that she wouldn't hand me to the authorities, but she could get in trouble if she didn't tell someone. I was pretty confident that no one would consider that I could be the missing David, so even if child services of one kind or another was to take me in, I wouldn't end up back with the FBI or mafia. I would probably end up in an orphanage or foster home, but that was doable.

I was going to stick to my story that my parents had sold me to some bad men because it was true and would give me a reason to not want to tell anyone my surname or explain where I had come from or how I could have ended up near that service station. I expected them to presume that I had hitched a lift or run from a car that had stopped there to refuel.

We parked in a shopping centre and Bee led me inside holding my hand again. I'm not sure if I put my hand out or she did, but it just seemed to happen naturally. It felt right though, and I needed the reassurance with all the strange people around me. We stopped at the first cafe that we came to. I had a ham and cheese sandwich with a hot chocolate and Bee had soup. Since my mouth was mostly full, Bee did most of the chatting and told me about her life. She was in the movie business although Bee described her job as a gofer. She then had to explain what a gofer was. Go for this, go for that. I thought she was kidding and just giggled at her. That was an interesting experience, I giggled. I can't remember the last time I giggled if I ever did. It felt good though. The producer of her current movie was quite religious and no work was done on a Sunday, which gave her the time to relax. Her job was pretty full-on when she was working on a movie so she was going to see if I could join her tomorrow, but I needed to be a good girl. Stay where I was put and not get into any trouble.

I told her I would be a good girl. It came out naturally, almost without thought and the feeling that I liked being a good girl. It was also a bit jarring. I had never thought those words before or any feeling associated with it. I tried to think back to when I lived with my family and see if I could ever remember being called a good boy, but I couldn't. Most of the language towards me was derogatory. Only my mother said nice things or at least I think she did. I couldn't remember any.

Buying the booster seat was a bit embarrassing. Bee asked for some help so that she bought the right one. They measured me and suggested one which was almost a baby seat. It had a five-point harness and I couldn't release it myself very easily. I saw Bee wince at the price, but she didn't hesitate and chose the one suggested.

When we started shopping for clothes I slipped the five hundred dollars I had in my jacket into her handbag. She saw me do it and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“I stole it off some bad guys. I'm eight, I don't know what to do with it,” I answered with a shrug.

I think I won that battle. Judging by her car and clothes, I didn't think Bee earns that much money and taking me on, even if it was only temporary was costing her.

Shopping for clothes was an interesting experience. I couldn't remember shopping for my own clothes before. I mostly had hand me downs from my elder brothers or my mother bought me what I needed. In New York, I was given a uniform to wear that was supposed to make me look like a junior doctor. I felt overwhelmed almost as soon as we entered the store and spent the first 15 minutes hiding behind Bee. Bee was great though, she would hold different things up against me and ask me what I thought. Girls have so much more variety than boys. Due to my size, my options were a little limited, but still, far more than I was used to. I tried on various items that helped Bee work out my sizes, but I didn't have to try everything. We weren't trying to create a whole wardrobe, just a little sample of lots of different styles. There were a few items that worried me more than others. A few 'cute' skirts and two dresses really banged home the different world that I had now found myself in. I knew I couldn't really object and although I felt nervous about wearing them, I realised I needed to overcome my reluctance. Eight-year-old girls normally wore such things, so I was going to have to suck it up. The one item that embarrassed me the most was these training bras. I had no development and at eight years old, none was expected, but Bee insisted that I would need them, and should get used to wearing them.

By the time we returned to the car I was exhausted. Bee then had to fit the car seat and I found myself securely strapped in. Within minutes I just couldn't keep my eyes open and I dropped off to sleep. I woke up with Bee talking. It took me a few seconds to realise that she was using a blue tooth device to connect her mobile to the car stereo, so she was talking to someone else.

She was discussing my case, so I closed my eyes and pretended that I was still asleep. Because it was on a speaker system I could hear both sides of the conversation. Bee was explaining why she couldn't just hand me over to child services and her friend, who sounded like a lawyer, initially tried to convince Bee to change her mind and when he realised that Bee wasn't to be swayed agreed to see what he could do. She then phoned someone to get permission to bring me on site tomorrow. She made all sorts of promises about me being good and no bother to eventually get reluctant acceptance.

I stopped pretending to be asleep and started looking around. Her lawyer friend phoned back and told her to send a picture of me to his phone and he would pass it on. I think Bee noticed I was awake at that point.

“I am not going to hand you in. We made a pinky promise and I always keep my pinky promises. We may have to prove that it would be dangerous for you to go back to your family so I have a friend who is going to do a little investigation for us. It would speed things up if you would tell me your full name and who they are.”

I didn't say anything.

“OK then. Is it alright if I take your picture so that we can see if you are on the missing person's list?”

“Yes. How do you get on the missing person's list?” I asked.

“If someone disappeared then those who love them report that to the police hoping that they can be found.”

“I didn't disappear. I was sold,” I stated firmly. Then, completely outside of my control, my lip started quivering as I tried to say what I was thinking. “No one loved me.” I managed to get out. And I started crying again.

Bee tried to comfort me, but that is pretty hard to do from the front seat while driving. I didn't cry for too long.

“I'm sorry for upsetting you, Rose.”

“That's OK, Bee. You just want to help, I know that. You are not like the bad men. It just makes me sad.”

Bee started talking about the film that she was involved with. It involved a twelve-year-old actress who was playing a nine-year-old girl. It was a remake of an old film called 'Firestarter'. Bee suggested that I stayed away from the actress as she hadn't been behaving very well. There was a bit of a personality conflict between the child star and the director, mainly because the director wasn't happy with something about her acting and she wasn't good at accepting criticism.

Chapter 9

Bee drove the car into an underground car park for an apartment block. I had to wait for her to release me before I could start helping her gather all our shopping. We then had an elevator ride to her one-bedroom apartment. I was asked to sit quietly while she sorted out her bedroom, so I sat on the sofa and pulled out my kindle.

After Bee had cleared out a space in her wardrobe, I helped her take my bags through and put it away. Between us, we chose an outfit for tomorrow and put that aside. It was a combination of leggings with a separate skirt, sandals for my feet, a light purple T-shirt and a cardigan. Then Bee readied a bath for me. I think she was nervous about being involved in the bathing process with an eight-year-old girl as she explained how to wash my hair and body with her supplies and asked if I needed any help.

I thought I would be fine but had to call out when I struggled with my tangled hair. Bee came in, put more conditioner in my hair and used a different brush to get the knots out as gently as possible. I then asked her to wash my back. The bathwater was really dirty by the time I had finished, so Bee suggested I have a quick shower to wash off and rinse my hair. It felt great to be clean again and put on clean clothes.

It was late afternoon by that point so I put on my new nightie and helped Bee make and eat macaroni cheese with a small salad. We watched a bit of TV together and then it was time for bed. Bee had wanted to put me on the sofa to sleep, however, she had looked up what time I should be going to bed, which she decided was 8 pm, and in a one-bed apartment, if I slept on the sofa Bee would be pretty much confined to her bedroom for most of the evening. Bee's bed was queen-sized so she asked if I was comfortable sleeping on one side of it, if she was sleeping on the other. I didn't have a problem with it and didn't really understand why it could be a problem. Bee set it up so that we had separate blankets and put a line of pillows between us. She said it was because she tended to toss and turn and she didn't want to wake me.

I was unbelievably tired by that point, struggling to keep my eyes open. I think I fell asleep before she had completed organising the bed. When I woke up, Bee was still asleep. I sat up as quietly as possible and focussed on Bee. I imagined her pelvis and hips changing their shape and angles to a more female version and then concentrated on imagining her with ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus leading to a vagina with the vagina being blocked by skin at the opening. I gave the skin covering a few mini holes so that any fluids could come out.

When I had been working on that young girl to recreate her hymen, there was a period of about a week where the whole area was a bit bloody. Of course, I wanted to know what was going on. They told me that she was fine, it was just something that happened with girls. I didn't know if that would happen with Bee, but if it did, I wanted the blood to be able to get out.

I then got up and crept around the bed to stare at Bee's face. Already there was the beginnings of a shadow on her face, so I imagined the face to be smooth and hair-free, with a softened jaw, a slightly more delicate nose and feminine cheekbones. Nothing major, just subtle changes. I wasn't always going to wake up before her, so I decided I would attempt to do my focussing whenever the opportunity arose. I was also wondering that if I did it several times a day, I might speed up the process and since I wasn't sure how long I was going to be staying with Bee, I wanted it to work as fast as possible. We had done this experiment before in New York and it hadn't changed the time, but I was hoping this would be different because this time I cared.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I started my yoga routine. I was trying to do as few things as possible that were the same things that David did, but I didn't want to give up my yoga. I thought enough people did yoga that it wouldn't give me away.

I was halfway through my routine when I heard the clock alarm go off in the bedroom. Bee went past me to go to the bathroom and then watched me for a bit, before going back into the bathroom to have a shower. Then we had to hustle to get to the film location as quickly as possible. After we had arrived we had to visit security to get me a visitor's badge and then we went to the cafeteria for breakfast.

We moved to a distant table and Bee asked if I was alright to stay there until she could sort something out. If anyone asked I was Rose Turing, Brian Turing's niece, visiting because I had some problems at home. Bee told me her official job title was Assistant to the Producer. So if I needed help, ask to be directed to her.

Everything started off well enough. I was quiet as a mouse, reading my kindle and not disturbing anybody. Then this security guy sat down opposite me. I put my kindle down to be polite and looked up at him questioningly.

“Err... Miss. How old are you?” he asked me.

“My name is Rose. I am eight years old,” I replied.

“Hi, Rose. I'm Robert. Who is supposed to be looking after you?”

“The Assistant Producer, Bee Turing,” I responded.

“And where is she?” he asked.

It was at this point that I started to get nervous. I had obviously done something wrong although I couldn't work out what it was. The conversation, as gentle and nice as he was being, made me feel that I was in trouble. He asked where Bee was and he called her a she. That was supposed to be a secret.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked him. “I haven't done anything, I have been a good girl.” I could feel tears welling up.

“No, no. You're not in any trouble,” he said hastily. “It's just at your age you are not supposed to be on your own. Is it alright if I take you to Bee?”

“OK,” I said uncertainly, before putting my kindle in my backpack and getting up ready to follow him.

He guided me to this room that had Assistant Producer, Beatrice Slater on the front, and knocked firmly.

A pretty lady in a business suit answered the door looking curiously about.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked.

“Your niece was on her own in the cafeteria. It is policy that all minors are accompanied,” he explained.

Beatrice was looking bewildered, I was looking confused, but Robert was smiling happily.

“Err... thank you, err..”

“It's Robert, mam. You're welcome,” he said and turned away, clearly thinking job well done.

“Niece?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm Rose. Pleased to meet you. I'm Bee Turing's niece, the Assistant Producer,” I said, holding my hand forward for her to shake.

She did so very gently.

“Bee Turing. Do you mean Brian Turing, the Assistant to the Producer,” she asked.

I blushed in embarrassment. “I call him Bee,” I admitted.

“Why don't you come in.” Beatrice gestured me in. “Let me just make a phone call and I will find out where Brian is.”

“I haven't got Bee in trouble have I? Bee got permission for me to be here and I've been quiet. I've been a good girl, honest.”

She held her hand up while she spoke on the phone. I only heard her asking where Bee was and couldn't hear the response. Beatrice sighed upon hearing whatever it was.

“No. Bee,” then she giggled, “I mean Brian is not in trouble. You've got me doing it. I didn't think you could shorten Brian, but I stand corrected. Bee is often the shortened form of Beatrice, but I prefer Triss. Brian, no, I like Bee better. Bee carried breakfast to Lucia's dressing room, only she wasn't happy with it and so Bee is out getting her a suitable lunch to make up for a poor breakfast.”

“Who is Lucia?”

“Lucia is the star of the film. So, why are you with Bee?” Triss asked me. “Why are you not at school?”

I looked away from Triss feeling uncomfortable. “I have had some problems with my parents. Bee is looking after me while helping me to sort it out.”

“You poor dear. Well, the question is what do we do with you?”

“I could be a gofer?” I giggled not entirely sure whether Bee had been joking with me or not.

Triss smiled. “Would you like that?”

“I like helping people,” I answered honestly.

“OK, you will be my personal gofer. We need to keep you safe, so you mustn't stray too far. I will clear it with Brian when he comes back in.”

Chapter 10

So began my career as a gofer. Mainly it was coffee for Triss and the Producer who was called Adam. Everyone else called him Mr Smithson, but he insisted I call him Adam. Triss was married to the director, Pierce Slater, but he had Bee to get drinks for him. Bee did lots of other things besides. I only really fetched drinks and cookies, occasional lunches and snacks.

Bee apologised for leaving me on my own for so long and checked that I was OK to be Triss' gofer. Once she knew that I was having fun, Bee was able to relax. And I was having fun. Getting drinks and cookies was easy. The staff at the cafeteria knew I was helping and usually put aside desserts or jazzed up a special cookie just for me. The most interesting part was listening in when everyone forgot I was there. It was like being a fly on the wall.

This movie was going to be very different from the original. They had attempted to modernise it and add lots more special effects, but the reason for all the tension on the set was the director was not happy with the key part of Charlie played by Lucia. Her acting was fine, it was just her expression when she was supposed to be setting fire to something. I almost laughed when I heard them say it looked like she was constipated.

They were getting way behind on their schedule and struggling to solve the issue. They had asked Lucia to change her expression, but so far, she had not produced anything credible. Lucia was also getting upset and expressing that by acting out. She was becoming more irritable and argumentative.

Triss had me accompany her to all of the meetings. Usually, I just sat behind her and everyone forgot I was there. Bee was in a similar position, except she would often have a place at the table with a pad and pencil in case there was anything that she needed to sort out. I thought I was unnoticed by everyone, so I used this opportunity to work on Bee, reinforcing the images that I had created for her.

A week passed quickly with a similar routine. By the time we returned from the set it was almost my bedtime. I had to reassure Bee that I was enjoying myself. I think she thought I was being taken advantage of.

Sunday arrived and I expected that we would go back to the forest for Bee to become Rebecca, but she had organised other plans. She explained that I did not appear to be on the missing person's list and so far, she could find no record of my family. To which I replied, 'good'. She asked me again if I was willing to divulge any more details which I wasn't and then told me that I needed to be examined medically. She wasn't sure what I had been through and she wasn't going to pressure me into saying anything, but to make sure Bee didn't get into trouble, I needed to be checked over.

This, unsurprisingly, made me quite anxious. Bee told me that it didn't matter what the doctor found or didn't find, she was not going to hand me over. I agreed to go along with it, although I knew I only had the appearance of choice. Bee drove me to a private dwelling and a lady doctor first questioned Bee, who told her all I had said. That my family had sold me to some bad men. I had somehow run away from the bad men and that was about it. She also mentioned that I seemed nervous when wearing more exposed type clothing and tended to be a bit shy until I knew the person. I tended to get along well with women, but shy away from men, apart from himself. Bee then hesitated. Confirmed with the doctor that everything said would be confidential. Hesitated some more and then realised that it was obvious that Bee needed to say something. I got up and cuddled her, hoping to help. Bee took a deep breath and admitted that she was transgender and that she knew, I thought of her as female.

The doctor just nodded calmly. “So she might be frightened of men or at least wary of them?”

“Yes,” Bee confirmed.

The doctor then quizzed me, but I refused to say anything, so she explained that she would have to examine me and that would involve looking at me all over. Did I want Bee to stay with me? Yes, I did.

The examination was very thorough. I didn't like the stirrups and her looking inside me and I didn't appreciate the pitying look she gave me afterwards.

She spoke quietly to Bee presuming that I wouldn't understand what she was saying I think. “She doesn't have a hymen and it looks as though this happened some time ago as it is completely healed.”

I realised that I had stuffed that up a bit. I mean I could have created my vagina with a hymen, I just didn't want to put something there in order for it to be damaged later. It didn't make sense. I really didn't understand why I had to create one for that girl and no one properly explained. Obviously, it was more important than I had thought. I made a mental note to slightly change my visualisation of Bee's internal vagina to give it a hymen. It was too late to change mine, now that someone had looked at it.

She then convinced Bee that we both needed to start seeing a psychologist. She had taken various swabs and even some blood, which was going to be tested in some way. If there was anything important she would contact us immediately, otherwise she would see us in two weeks.

When we got back in the car we were both quite thoughtful.

“I thought you were really brave,” I told Bee.

She looked at me incredulously. “I was brave?”

“Yes. You told the doctor your secret. Is that the first person that you have told.”

“Apart from you, you mean,” she clarified.

“No. You didn't tell me. I found out.”

She sighed. “No. I told my parents thinking that they would support me. It didn't work out. I joined a group that meet up occasionally, but I have never found the courage to go to one of the meetings. I'm not brave, not brave at all.”

“And yet, because you cared about me, you told the doctor.” I pointed out.

“OK. I can be brave for you. Let's change the subject. What do you want to do today?”

“Can we go back to the forest? I want to be with Rebecca again,” I asked with pleading in my voice.

“Sorry, honey, it is too late for that trip. Do you want to go shopping?”

“With Rebecca or Brian?” I asked.

After another weary sigh, “Brian.”

“Let's stay in and watch a movie. Could I watch the original Firestarter movie?”

“It is a little bit adult. I don't think that is really appropriate,” Bee responded.

“Fine, we can choose something from Netflix that we both want to watch.”

“OK.”

Little did she know I had ulterior motives. When we came into the apartment and locked the door, I closed all the curtains and blinds. I struggled to put a chair against the front door.

“What are you doing?” Bee questioned.

“I am creating a safe place for Rebecca to join us. I want to see Rebecca again and I want to see her dance. You said you can't be brave for yourself, but you can be brave for me. Be brave for me.”

She stared at me long enough that I was beginning to be worried then a slow smile came over her. “OK, I can do this.”

I had a wonderful rest of the day with Rebecca. Bee was always nice and kind but lacked a joyful energy that Rebecca always had. I got her to pinky promise me that we would do the same next Sunday, but with nail polish and makeup.

Chapter 11

Going back to the set on Monday morning was both good and bad. I did enjoy my job, it was easy and allowed me to observe a fascinating process. If I had any questions I waited until Triss wasn't busy and then asked her. She seemed quite happy to explain. This was a new experience for me since my curiosity for how things worked or why things were done had been squashed for the last three years. Those were not acceptable questions.

I think it also helped to relieve some of Triss' tension. The pressure was building, in particular on the director, Triss' husband, and the star, Lucia. And that was the bad side of things. Lucia had been hired for her beauty and acting ability, both of which she had in spades. The problem was that you were asking the audience to believe something that was not normally possible and Lucia was not believable. The whole film hinged on the one thing that Lucia was struggling with.

There were lots of meetings with lots of suggestions, but nothing really solved the problem. It was during one of these meetings that I got the fright of my life. I had done my bit with the coffee and biscuits and was sitting behind Triss like usual. I had shifted my chair a bit so that I could see Bee and spent the first few minutes focussing on her, creating the images that I wanted for her.

Recently, Bee had set her alarm for earlier so that she could join me for my yoga practice. That was great, but it did mean that I couldn't do my usual focus work first thing in the morning. The only time I had available now was during these meetings, it was just lucky that we had one every day.

When I am focussing like that, it is a very single-minded focus. I was used to being unnoticed and didn't expect anyone to be observing me. To some extent, I was ignoring everything else. I had just finished my concentration work when I noticed that no one was talking and then as I looked around, everyone was looking at me, apart from Bee who was frozen still.

I started looking around in a bit of a panic, probably looking like a startled rabbit.

“It's OK, Rose. You are not in any trouble,” Triss said gently trying to reassure me.

Bee turned round to look at me, swivelling her chair, and upon seeing my expression, just opened her arms. I leapt into them and buried my face in her chest, trying to hide from everyone.

“Why is everyone looking at me?” I mumbled, still hiding.

“Why were you staring at me with such focus?” she asked me.

I thought about what I could say that would be believable without giving away my secrets. “It's silly,” I admitted.

“That's OK, it doesn't matter if it was silly,” Bee answered.

Still, no one else was talking and all the attention was on me, waiting for my explanation.

“I was sending you positive thoughts,” I said.

“It doesn't matter what she was doing. Can she do it again?” Pierce asked.

“Honey. Can you look at Triss and send her positive thoughts?” Bee asked.

Triss moved so that if I turned around and looked at her I didn't have to look at everyone else. I twisted so that I could look at her, comforted by Bee's arms that were still around me. I could pretend to try and not do it properly, but I had already been caught once, so I decided to do it properly. I looked at Triss and imagined her with a smile on her face, concentrating like I usually do.

“That's it! That is the look!” Pierce exclaimed.

I buried my face back in Bee's chest but listened to the conversation around me.

“The question is can she teach that look to Lucia,” I heard Adam say.

“Why don't we film a scene where the look is essential using Rose and then see if we can get Lucia to copy it. I don't think Lucia would react well to sending an eight-year-old unknown to teach her anything,” Triss suggested.

“I don't suppose Rose is registered as an actress or has an agent,” Adam mentioned. He turned to Bee. “Can you sort that out?” It wasn't a question, just something that he expected Bee to add to her list.

Triss approached me and crouched down to be at my level. “Would you do that for us? Ignore a few cameras and do that focus look?”

I nodded my head, unsure what else I could do.

The meeting broke up fairly shortly afterwards. I felt much better when everyone stopped staring at me. I followed Triss back to her office. A few minutes later Bee came round with a worried look on her face.

“Hi Bee,” Triss said to Bee's surprise. “What can I do for you?”

“We may have a problem. I just need to speak to Rose for a second.”

“Do I need to leave my office,” Triss said with a laugh.

“I don't think so, let me just check,” Bee responded with a smile.

“Rose, honey. Do you trust Triss?” Bee asked me.

“Yes,” I said cautiously.

“I think we need to tell her the truth,” Bee admitted.

I turned to Triss. “Will you promise not to send me back to my parents or the bad men?” I asked Triss, holding out my pinky finger.

Triss' face went very serious. She shook her pinky with mine. “I promise,” she said simply.

“As you can probably guess, Rose is not my niece. I found her on her own in the Sequoia National Forest, when I went for a walk on Sunday. She would only come with me if I promised not to hand her in. She was worried that she would be returned to her parents who had sold her to some bad men. I have kept her with me while I have been trying to figure out what I can do to help her. I have cashed in a few favours to do a bit of investigation so I can tell you that she is not on the missing person's list and there is no evidence linking her to anybody. Rose does not wish to tell us about her past. This last Sunday Rose was examined and certain samples have been sent off to check that she doesn't have any STD's.”

Triss gasped at that point.

“I have also surreptitiously checked to see if I could be a suitable foster home. Unfortunately, I don't qualify. I've gone about as far as I can to keep her safe. I can't organise an agent without some kind of legal identity, so if you want Rose to do that scene, we're gonna need some help,” Bee said, hugging me and facing Triss.

When I looked at Triss she was using a knuckle to play with her bottom lip, thinking furiously. “There is medical evidence that those tests are necessary?” Triss eventually asked.

“Yes,” Bee said bluntly.

They were clearly trying to speak without upsetting me so I decided to intervene. “I don't have a hymen,” I said quietly.

They both looked at me in surprise.

“That's what the doctor said,” I explained.

“Obviously, I am going to help, I just need to work out how. I think we should shoot the scene anyway and let the paperwork catch up later. I will need the doctor's report, or, at least the doctor's name. I need to make a few phone calls and, to be honest, it is best if you are not here for those, Rose.” Triss turned her attention to Bee. “Bee, why don't you become Rose's assistant for today. I will clear it with Adam. Take her through the scene, practise her lines, familiarise her with where she will need to stand and so on. I think it will be an hour or so before they have everything set up. If you finish before I do, go to the cafeteria and I will come and get you when I am ready.”

Chapter 12

I didn't have a lot of time to dwell on our conversation with Triss. Bee took charge of me and kept me very occupied. There weren't many lines, most of the scene involved me staring at a wall and causing it to burst into flames as the temperature kept rising.

I did, however, need to be styled before I was ready. All the clothes that were meant for Lucia were way too large for me, so I was going to shoot the scene in my casual clothes. They spent a good twenty minutes playing with my hair and then put on makeup. It was the first time I had ever worn any and I really didn't like it. I felt like I was wearing a mask. They did explain that movie makeup was very different to what girls normally wear.

Mr Slater explained what he wanted me to portray and I did my best to keep it in mind. We could only shoot the scene once since it involved a pyrotechnic display to occur at the same time that would need to be reset. We could do a re-shoot another day if it was required, but since it was just to show Lucia the facial expression that Mr Slater was looking for, I didn't expect that I would be needed for it.

I concentrated on imagining the wall burning up and I think my focussed look was what Mr Slater wanted, as he thanked me. Bee explained that it would need to be sent off to editing to create the scene. It would also be added to my portfolio. She then explained that I would be getting an agent who would look for acting work for me and that clip would help show other interested parties what I could achieve. She then asked if I wanted to work as an actress.

The question seemed a bit after the fact to me, but I had enjoyed myself. I told her that I didn't think I was pretty enough but was happy to do the work. She assured me that I was more than pretty enough. She told me that I had very striking eyes and when I focussed it made her shiver with the power of it.

When I had imagined my face I had tried to keep to relative average features so that I wouldn't stand out. The eyes though seem to possess a different aspect to the rest of the body. I had changed other peoples faces including the colour of their eyes, but if they had piercing eyes before, they remained piercing just with a different colour. I think there is some truth to eyes being the windows to the soul.

We moved to the cafeteria to wait for Triss and discussed what would happen to me. Bee promised that I would be safe. Neither she nor Triss would break a pinky promise. She also told me that directors and movie producers had contacts with powerful people who could make anything happen. Her only regret was that she was not a suitable foster parent, because she said she would have loved to adopt me.

I wanted to ask why she wasn't suitable, but I thought it would only hurt her feelings so I didn't. She did tell me that she would need to go shopping on Sunday as she seemed to have put some weight on around her hips and was struggling to put her trousers on in the morning.

When Triss came to collect us, she didn't take us back to her office, instead, she led us to the director's office where her husband, Pierce Slater was waiting. Pierce was behind his desk and we all sat on the three chairs facing him. Triss had closed the door after we had entered so it was just the four of us.

“First of all,” Pierce said, leaning forward across the desk towards me and extending his pinky finger, “I believe I need to make a promise.” He shook pinky fingers with me. “I promise to keep you safe, to not hand you back to your parents or the bad men.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“You're welcome, sweetheart. With the doctor's evidence we have a judge who is quite happy to sign the necessary documents to create a new legal identity which should make it almost impossible for your family to find you, however, you need a legal guardian. Foster parents if you will. Now I don't have a list of appropriate families and the only way Triss and I can keep our promise to not give you to bad men, is if we become your legal guardians. Would that be acceptable?” he asked me.

I nodded my head, my eyes wide. I wasn't expecting that.

“It does present some challenges. Our work often takes us to different parts of the world, so we can't really offer you a stable home. We like working on projects together, so you will have a choice to come with us or we can have someone, like Brian here, looking after you. Our options for schooling are online courses until you reach high school, boarding school or going to whichever school is local to our location. We want to talk to a psychologist before we make any decisions. How does that sound?”

I just beamed a smile. “I would have loved to stay with Bee, but Triss is great, I love Triss.”

“What about me?” Pierce said with a hurt, puppy dog expression.

I blushed. “You're nice too.”

He laughed. “Nice. I can live with nice.” Pierce turned to Bee. “Is it Brian or Bee?”

“Either. Rose calls me Bee.”

“Well, Bee, we thought it would be less traumatic if we didn't wrench you two apart, so we would like to invite you to stay with us until Rose is settled. We have plenty of room and a housekeeper, so it really is no bother. It will take a few days to get all the paperwork together, but it would be safer legally if you moved in straight away. What do you think?”

“Umm... that sounds great. And thank you. To be honest it is a little tight for both of us in a one-bed apartment. Only could we start tomorrow? By the time we get back to the apartment, it is usually Rose's bedtime. I can pack everything up while she is sleeping. I should also mention that I have already arranged for Rose to see a psychologist on Sunday morning.”

“It has been pointed out to me that it is inappropriate for umm... well anyway, why don't you leave early, get yourself packed and head over to our house tonight.”

Bee looked a bit down but tried to hide it.

“It's only coz they don't know you're a girl,” I whispered in her ear as we left Pierce's office.

“I always wanted to have a girl,” Triss confided.

“I will be a good girl,” I promised, feeling that good feeling again. “Why haven't you?” I asked innocently.

“We tried, we just never succeeded,” Triss said sadly.

More people I was going to have to focus on. I had done fertility treatments before. I had to focus on healthy ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus and vagina for her and healthy testes for him.

“I will send you and Pierce positive thoughts as well,” I told her, to help explain when I focussed on fixing them later. I hoped I was doing the right thing. I knew fixing people ran the risk of revealing myself to my enemies, but I couldn't see people in need and not do anything.

“Thank you, Rose. That is very kind of you,” Triss replied.

Chapter 13

Michael Valles Point of View (POV) New York

I was sitting at my desk going over some numbers when Al knocked politely at my door.

“Come in,” I said loudly.

Al entered quietly. “Hi, boss. I've got some good news for you. It's definite the Feds have lost our miracle boy. They have had to drop the case. You can't prosecute someone for kidnapping someone they can't prove exists.”

I sighed. “It's not that great, actually. If the Feds had him, I was pretty sure we could get him back. How do you find somebody who could look like anybody? Sit down Al, I could do with some brainstorming.”

“What have we done so far?” Al asked.

“As soon as we heard he could be missing we sent out a reward for 100 million dollars for any information that leads to his capture in the next six months.”

“Why only the next six months?” Al queried.

“Our experts have warned that if we don't get him back soon, it may be too dangerous to deal with him anymore. We've messed this up six ways from Sunday. We had an opportunity to be his friend, make him trust us and want to work with us. Instead, we made him feel like a prisoner. His carers were tasked with bonding with him, but they had to say no to all his requests. We even had one of them cane him when one of his patients complained. I've reviewed the footage and investigated the client. A hand that was out of view may have touched David inappropriately, and the man is a known lover of young boys.”

“That's bad,” Al admitted.

“No, it's worse than bad. The chances are that David didn't insult the man, he issued a threat. That means he has already worked out that he has the ability to harm as well as heal. We have kept him ignorant for a reason and now he is in the outside world, he could realise what else he is capable of. And we have given him too many reasons to hate us.”

“Yeah, but it takes four weeks to work,” Al said, unconcerned.

“You're right, it does now. Our experts think that limitation is based on his present knowledge. He thinks it will take four weeks, so it takes four weeks. If he thinks blocking a nerve signal to the heart is instantaneous, he could kill us with a look. As I said, we have six months to find him and bring him back and we don't even know what he looks like.”

“How are we going to find him then?” Al asked.

“He is abnormally small and has an issue with his height and yet has never corrected it. The suggestion is that he is unsure either how to do it or has a mental block about it. So we think he is going to stay short. We are looking for a short boy with no identity. He can play the piano, is fluent in Spanish, Italian and Russian and will probably create miracles wherever he goes. Since he hasn't got an official identity, it would be hard for him to leave the country. Still, I feel like I am looking for a needle in a haystack. And even if we have a possible candidate, how do we know it is him?”

“I can answer that one, boss. Check his DNA,” Al said confidently.

“I thought the same. Here is a frightening thought for you. Because he doesn't know what is impossible, he has done miracles, and some of those miracles are beyond what science can explain. He treated a couple for infertility. The mother-to-be wanted a bit of a facelift, altered nose and different coloured eyes at the same time. She chose purple eyes. He gave her purple eyes. Purple eye colour is outside of human DNA and what is interesting is her daughter who is now seven months old, also has purple eyes.”

“So he changed their DNA when he worked on them?” Al asked incredulously.

“That is not the frightening thought. He can change people to something beyond human. Hell, he can change himself. If he realises that, he could make himself super-strong, superfast, create skin that can't be cut, bones that can't be broken. There are all kinds of nightmare scenarios. What if he gives himself superpowers? But yes, if he has changed himself, he has inadvertently changed his DNA.”

“I'm not sure we should be looking for him,” Al whispered.

“Now imagine that he wanted to help us and what he could do for our organisation. That is why we are still searching for him. Personally, I sort of hope we don't find him. Not my call though.”

Chapter 14

Rose's POV

We left early to go back to Bee's apartment and pack our stuff up. I didn't have that much. We hadn't gone shopping since the first day, so all of my stuff fit into a small section of one of Bee's suitcases. Bee was packing for about two weeks worth of clothes and because she was only packing her male clothes, it was an easy job. Most of our meals we ate on-site, so there was only a small plastic bag with perishable items from her fridge.

We then drove to the mansion that the Slater's call home. My home now I guess. That didn't feel real, nor did the idea that Triss and Pierce were going to be my foster parents. The housekeeper, Maria, was in and expecting us. She showed us to our rooms. We were given a tour of the house after we had dropped our bags in our respective rooms. I wanted Bee to sleep in the room next to mine, but Maria said she hadn't prepared that room. My room was opposite the master bedroom and had the second-biggest bath in the house. The decoration was very neutral and the house didn't look very lived in, which probably went with the Slater's current lifestyle. I smirked to myself, wondering how everything was going to change when Triss became pregnant.

Each bedroom had its own walk-in robe and bathroom. I think Bee's entire apartment could have fitted in my bedroom without adding the bathroom or dressing area. There was a heated swimming pool outside that had a retractable cover. By retractable cover I mean you pushed a button and something that looked like a glasshouse travelled along tracks to convert the outdoor pool to an indoor one. The grounds around the house were kept immaculate, by a groundskeeper called Jim. There was a maid service who came twice a week and the Slater's hired caterers if they were entertaining.

There were two dining areas downstairs. One small one, just off the kitchen that had a table with six seats. This was where most meals would be served, but for big functions, there was a large room that could seat over twenty. There was a lounge and a cinema room as well as a games area that seemed more like a man cave that my father had always dreamed of. It had a bar and a pool table and the room was surrounded with posters from old movies, mainly involving scantily clad women.

I would need a stool to stand on if I wanted to play pool, was my first thought. There was something about the room that tickled my brain in a strange way. It was like a part of me was saying I should like this room, while the larger part was wondering why. The whole sensation made me uncomfortable so I didn't linger.

I went to my room to unpack but had to wait for Bee to finish so that she could give me the stuff that I had packed in her suitcase. That didn't take very long and it was still early afternoon. With a bit of pleading and begging I managed to convince Bee to let me go swimming. She had bought me a one-piece costume in case we used the pool that came with her apartment. Bee is very self-conscious about her body and wearing trunks reminds her strongly that her body is male.

We played in the water for a bit. I don't think I had as much energy as I used to, or I just get tired faster. After half an hour I needed to get out and relax. Bee stayed in doing a few laps. I did another focus session while I had the chance. You could see a bit of a female shape to Bee now. Her hips were wider than her waist. Maybe I should start imagining her with small breasts. An A-cup? No, that can wait until after she has found out about her internal changes, I decided.

I had a lovely bath. Triss came in before I finished, checking to see if I needed any help. I could see that she wanted to, so I asked her if she wouldn't mind washing my hair. A smile lit up her face and gave me this delicious head massage as part of the process. I told her I loved it and she could wash my hair any time.

Triss was disappointed by my clothing selections and told me that we would be going shopping as soon as we could fit it in. I told her that Bee and I were going shopping on Sunday. Triss wanted me to go to church on Sunday, but Bee had already arranged a psychologist appointment for me, so she would meet with us after that and we could all go shopping. Pierce probably would join us for lunch, but hated shopping so would beg off that part.

Maria had cooked lasagne which was delicious. Pierce arrived just before the meal was ready. Triss frowned at him, but I knew he was under a lot of pressure at that time, so I didn't mind. We all had to hold hands as Pierce said grace. It did remind me of my mother who used to always say grace although the words were different and we didn't hold hands.

He complimented me on my performance. The edited version had been given to Lucia. He had spoken to her, reassuring her that her starring role was not in jeopardy, but my focussed look was much more effective as showing what he wanted. He said it looked very believable, which was what he needed. He was hopeful that finally, they could start making progress.

Since dinner was quite late, I was soon yawning and sent to bed soon after. I asked Bee to wake me up in time for me to do my yoga and she promised to set an alarm.

I woke up before Bee's alarm went off, so I walked down to Bee's room and gently opened the door. Bee was still asleep so I did my focus work while I had the chance and then went to the master bedroom. I wasn't sure about trying to sneak into the master bedroom. I didn't know Pierce very well and I didn't want to upset him before he even had a chance to sign the papers. In the end, my desire to heal them overcame my fears and I opened the door as quietly as possible. Holding the door slightly ajar, I focussed on first Pierce's fertility and then Triss.

No one appeared to wake up or notice my efforts, so I carefully closed the door and retreated back to my bedroom to wait for Bee. I pulled out my kindle and started reading again.

A little while later, Bee knocked on my door and we went down to the larger dining room. We were just moving some chairs to make space when Triss came in to find out what we were doing. I told her about my yoga routine and she wanted to join in but suggested that we purchase proper workout gear. Doing yoga in my nightie could be quite revealing. I had my panties on, but Triss emphasised that showing my panties was a big no-no.

We still did the routine and I tried to pull my nightie down whenever it started to slide and chose not to do certain postures that would have been given more of a show. Then I had a quick shower and joined everyone for breakfast. Maria would happily cook what I wanted, so I had an omelette. We then drove to work in three separate cars. I was with Bee because it had the car seat in it. Triss made a note that she needed to get one for her car.

Chapter 15

After we had arrived on set, I followed Triss to her office and the day began as usual. I made sure the coffee was on and started brewing. I went to the cafeteria to get some biscuits, smiling at the staff and getting smiles back. I then went back to Triss to see if there was anything else I could help with.

When I got back, Triss was on the phone, frowning into the receiver.

“Uh-huh, alright. OK, I see. I'll be there,” was Triss' side of the conversation.

“Come on, let's go, there is an emergency meeting we need to get to,” Triss told me.

“Do you want me to bring the biscuits?” I asked.

“No, on second thoughts, yes, bring them. If anyone has missed breakfast the last thing we need is someone who is hangry.”

“Hangry?” I questioned.

“Angry because they are hungry. Trust me it is true. Pierce can seem like a different person if he is tired and hungry. Don't worry, I make sure to keep him well-fed.”

I followed Triss carrying a tray with a selection of biscuits on it. There was one larger one that had chocolate button eyes, nose and mouth. That one was mine. I could get behind this hangry thing if someone else tried to grab it.

We weren't the first to arrive, but we weren't the last either. It took another five minutes before everyone was sitting and settled. I saw a few people grab a biscuit, but no one went for mine.

“Phoebe was Lucia's personal assistant and she has some news for us,” Adam explained.

“I went to bring Lucia her breakfast this morning, but she hadn't arrived. She had never been late before, so I called her. Her mother answered the call and told me that Lucia was feeling overwhelmed by stress. Last night they had seen a doctor who had prescribed taking a month of rest. They are, at present, on route to Hawaii,” Phoebe reported.

“How does that leave us legally?” Pierce asked.

A guy down the table answered. I recalled his name was Tom. He always dressed in a suit, but I didn't know why.

“I will have to check the contract, but I believe Lucia will not be in breach of contract, but we would be at liberty to replace her. We wouldn't be able to sue for a medically approved leave of absence. On the other hand, she could not sue us if we replaced her,” Tom told us.

“Can we wait a month?” Adam asked.

Another man, whose name I didn't know answered that. “Financially, our backs are already to the wall, but it would still probably cost less than re-shooting all the scenes that she was in with someone else. It is the lead role after all so there are a lot of scenes and agents smell blood in the water when you try and get someone in as an emergency replacement.”

“You're presuming that she would return in one month. With stress-leave it is not uncommon for the length of time to be extended. If she has left because she doesn't think she can do it and let's face it, she has really struggled, I don't think she is returning,” Triss stated.

“The obvious answer is to see if Rose can do it,” Adam said, looking at me.

I think my mouth dropped open in shock.

“I don't think that would work. Our financial backers wanted a named celebrity,” Pierce remarked. He then looked at me. “Not that I don't think you could do it.”

“How about this. While we wait the month out, Rose completes as many scenes as possible. This gives the option of telling Lucia that she isn't required if necessary. While we are doing that we check through our original auditions and speak to agents. Get an idea of costs. Rose can probably be hired based on film profits, as she is an unknown and the film production is struggling. We can show the financial backers the difference between Rose and Lucia and how much it would cost to get a named star, who may not be able to perform anyway,” Adam concluded. “Have you seen the edited scene that we showed Lucia? It's no wonder she gave up. Rose looked awesome.”

There was a bit of argument and discussion. I was a bit young. The character was supposed to be nine and I looked like a small eight. They were worried about my acting talent since I had no previous experience. The writers thought they could reduce the number of lines if it looked like I was struggling. With Adam's plan, every base was covered. If I couldn't act, they were still going to be looking for a replacement, if I could, then it would be up to the mysterious financial backers to decide, based on all the information available.

Only after they had decided to agree with Adam did they then ask me if I would do it. I knew I couldn't really say no, so I nodded. I was worried though. I wasn't planning on showing my face to the world and it occurred to me that my focussed look might be recognisable by anyone I had treated. My body would look completely different, so they might dismiss it, but they might not.

Phoebe was assigned to Adam as his assistant so that Bee was available to be my personal assistant. I was first taken to wardrobe so that they could measure me and start working on my outfits. I was then taken into a fancy hair salon where my hair was trimmed and coloured. I was now a blonde. They did a good job and it looked natural.

We then returned to Lucia's dressing room which would now be my dressing room and started going over the script. Bee and I would play-act the different scenes to help familiarise me with it. That evening Pierce explained how he saw the Charlie character and suggested that I pretend that I was Charlie. This meant I had to pretend to be a young girl who was able to set things on fire, was being chased by bad guys and so was running away. The only thing I found hard to imagine was the idea that my father loved me. Charlie's father loved her very much and in the end, gave his life for her. My father sold me into slavery. I told Pierce that I couldn't pretend that my father loved me, but I could imagine my step-father loving me and then pretend the actor was my step-father. To try and help me get into the role, everyone was going to start calling me Charlie. I was going to try and show affection to both Triss and Pierce.

I started that by giving everyone a kiss and cuddle before going to bed. The next day was a Sunday, so I knew I was going for my first psychologist appointment and then shopping after.

Chapter 16

It took three months to produce that movie and so much happened in that time. I visited the psychologist four times in total. The first time that Sunday morning and then we moved the appointment to a Saturday afternoon. I have nothing against the psychologist, her name was Ann and she was a lovely lady. She tried to get me to relax by small talk which I was happy to engage in, but if any question related to my past I refused to talk.

After two sessions of getting nowhere, she spoke to Triss and Pierce. They asked me why I wouldn't discuss my past. I told them that I was happy and thinking about what had happened to me would make me sad, so I refused to do it. They told me I would feel better for it. I asked them to talk about the worst thing that had happened to them.

Initially, I thought they would reject my challenge, but Triss surprised me and she talked about a horrific experience where she was out with some girlfriends when she was seventeen and some boys forced them to... Then Triss realised that she was talking to an eight-year-old girl, and wasn't sure how to finish the tale. I ended the conversation by asking how she felt right then. It was obvious that she was upset. I told her, I didn't want to feel like that. I gave her a hug and stroked her hair, which made her laugh and cry at the same time.

They still wanted me to open up, but there was less pressure exerted and after another two sessions where the psychologist admitted that she had got nowhere, we cancelled the sessions. Ann implied that at some point in the future I would need to deal with my past and she would be available when I felt comfortable and ready.

It wasn't that I knew I was fine. What my parents did damaged me emotionally and I knew that. Being a prisoner for three years and kept in a type of isolation probably made me worse, but there was no way I could discuss my real past with Ann, so I had to keep quiet.

I pretended to be Charlie all the time and I decided that Charlie was a generally happy girl who liked to give lots of hugs and affection. Triss did ask me when I gave her a cuddle on the sofa for no apparent reason, whether it was real or play-acting. I admitted that I was acting the way I thought Charlie would act with her mother. I was doing the same with Bee and Pierce. She smiled sadly and just asked me to tell her if it wasn't an act any more.

Sunday became a family day. We would all go to church and then do something together. The first Sunday, after the psychologist appointment, we went shopping. When Pierce met us for lunch, I ran up to him, called him Daddy and jumped into his surprised arms. Despite his surprise, he caught me, gave me a kiss on my forehead and smiled down at me.

Of course, I was pretending to be Charlie, but the funny thing about that was that over time, I didn't have to pretend anymore. Pierce and Triss weren't acting and their responses were full of love and acceptance. Since I had first become Rose I had been careful to think 'how would an eight-year-old girl react?' and try and act that way. Then my internal question was 'how would Charlie behave?' and use that to colour my responses. When I realised that I didn't ask myself any questions, I just did what I wanted to, I knew I wasn't pretending anymore. I worked that out at Thanksgiving and whispered in Triss' ear that I loved her and I wasn't pretending. She hugged me very tightly and cried a little. She told me she loved me too. They applied for adoption and I officially became their daughter before Christmas.

I was a good girl because I liked being a good girl and the feeling it gave me, especially, when they told me that I was a good girl. That meant there were very few arguments. I didn't want for anything and was grateful for anything that came my way. This made for a pretty harmonious family. There was a slight altercation when Pierce raised his voice to me on set, telling me 'angrier!' and I burst into tears. I retired to my dressing room and Pierce came in to chat. I told him that I wanted to be a good girl and I was trying to do what he asked, so why did he shout at me?

He apologised and decided to work with me in a gentler way. He told me that I was a good girl and I had done well, it was just that he thought Charlie would have been angrier in that scene. From then on he was careful how he directed me.

On Sundays we didn't talk about the film or discuss any business at all, we concentrated on having fun and enjoying ourselves. We went to parks, zoos, theme parks, water parks and museums. Embarrassingly enough, I was restricted from a lot of rides and slides due to my height and age. There were still plenty of things for me to do, so I didn't let it get to me.

Bee didn't join us for any of these outings. It wasn't that she wasn't invited, but in the car journey after my first psychologist appointment, I wanted to know why Bee hadn't had an appointment as well. She admitted that she had made one, but had cancelled it when we moved into the Slater's house. She didn't want the Assistant Producer or the Director to know she was seeing someone or for what reason. I asked how she was going to manage to have 'Rebecca time' and she sadly said it wasn't going to happen. She wasn't sure how she was going to cope, so we worked out a plan. On Sundays, she was going to have alone time. That would give her the opportunity to see the psychologist and have some Rebecca time. She was sad thinking that she wouldn't be able to share her real self with someone who had accepted her for who she was. I knew that it wouldn't be long before she realised that her body was different and really as much female as male. Hopefully, then Rebecca could be introduced to the world.

To make sure that happened, I introduced meditation to my yoga routine. This gave me at least one opportunity a day when I could focus on Bee and Triss. They both said they felt better for doing it.

After two weeks of working to finish as many scenes as possible, there was a big meeting. I wasn't there for most meetings, so I only heard about it after the fact. It was decided that hiring someone else who may not work out anyway was expensive, convincing Lucia to come back after her month away would result in a less believable Charlie, so I got the job. I would be paid a share of the profit. They were not sure that there would be a profit at that point since the film was over time and over budget and I was an unknown actress. The Slaters were not lacking for money and I would never have had access to it anyway, so it didn't matter to me. As soon as a judge gave me a new identity and Pierce and Triss legal guardianship, I also signed with an agent. I had nothing to do with it, Triss organised it all and even signed for me.

Once the trial period was over and we all knew that I was going to star in the film, Triss sat me down and we talked about my education. Since I was going to be working on-site, as well as travelling to a couple of other locations for further shooting, sending me to a local school or even a boarding school wasn't practical at that time. I had a choice between online courses and a tutor. Well, I didn't exactly have a choice. Triss had that choice and had chosen for me to have a tutor since she didn't know when I had last attended school and I wasn't telling her.

My tutor gave me tests in lots of different subjects and then set me up with an online program. She visited once a week to go over everything but was also available through skype for any questions I might have. Access to the internet was wonderful. I could look up almost anything and I was full of questions.

My English language was very advanced for my age, but everything else was average. I had last been to school when I was nine and the English school system was very different, so I wasn't surprised or upset. The only other language I admitted to knowing was Spanish. I missed my piano and wanted to learn another instrument, but I struggled with having enough time to work on the movie and do all my homework.

Life settled into a nice routine until just after Thanksgiving. Bee was my personal assistant and minder so I saw her all the time, however, at the beginning of December, Bee had her first period. I had access now to answer some of my most burning questions, so I knew why that young girl whose hymen I had recreated was bloody for a week. I made sure that there were enough holes through Bees skin so that the blood had somewhere to go. I wondered why I didn't have a period yet, but that was explained by Triss.

Chapter 17

Bee's period started during the night. I only found out when she didn't turn up for yoga so I was concerned about her. I didn't see her since she was in the shower, but I did notice her bed and the tell-tale dark red signs. I listened at the bathroom door and heard the shower running and Bee crying. I spoke to Triss who told me to do my yoga on my own that morning, while she sorted Bee out.

I think Bee was in a state of shock. The problem with treating things secretly is that no one but you knows what is going on. I found out from Bee later that Triss had lent her a pair of panties and a pad, before telling her to get herself to the doctors. Bee had tried putting the pad in her boxer shorts, but that hadn't worked and so had to swallow her embarrassment and wear a pair of panties. I didn't understand. I thought she would be nothing but happy.

No one knew that she was anything but a normal male, apart from me and her psychologist and presenting as a man, but wearing panties and a pad made her so embarrassed, especially when she was going somewhere for that area to be examined. She phoned her psychologist who put her in touch with a recommended doctor. One ultrasound later and Bee knew she was a girl. They did a minor operation to properly open the skin so that she could deal with her period properly.

Of course, there were repercussions. She couldn't hide anything from work since she was living at the director's house and Triss knew something was wrong. Telling Triss that she was having her first period was an unusual statement. Triss asked if she was going to have a hysterectomy which upset Bee, although Triss didn't mean any harm. Bee told her that she had stopped needing to shave and her hips had widened, so she was going to transition to be female.

Triss apologised and promised to support her. Now that Bee knew she was truly female she felt able to tell Triss that she had felt that she was a girl all her life. In fact, she had told her parents when she was eighteen and they had kicked her out of the house. She had headed to California because she had heard they were more accepting than the other states but was too scared as well as too poor, to be able to present as she actually felt.

Bee admitted that she was scared how all her friends were going to react to her and she still needed to gather some money to have plastic surgery to make it all look how it should. Bee had been living at the Slater's for over a month, stayed for Thanksgiving and spent most of her days looking after me. By that point, Bee was considered one of the family, especially by me. I immediately offered to use any money I earned from the film to help Bee become more complete. Triss said that might not happen for some time and she was sure she could arrange something before then, even if it required an interest-free loan.

I later asked Triss about that. I was quite happy to just give Bee the money, but Triss explained that a lot of people consider accepting money as charity diminishes their self-worth. By offering a loan with no interest, Bee could pay it back as slowly as she likes with no stress without feeling the sting to her pride.

Triss invited Bee to prolong her stay and helped her by going shopping together to buy some clothes. Unfortunately for me, it was past my bedtime, so I missed Bee's first shop as Rebecca. I did hear about it the next day as Bee came back to work. Bee had gone back to her apartment to get changed into Rebecca. Triss made sure she was looking acceptable and then they went shopping. I felt jealous and told her so. Bee promised that I would be invited the next time.

Bee spent time over the next few days speaking to people on-site and explaining her situation. Some were fine with it and some were not. Most of it was done outside of my hearing so all I saw was the result. Sometimes Bee was upset and sometimes she was ecstatic. I took note of those who gave Bee funny looks.

I now started imagining Bee with A-cup breasts, a slightly more feminine face and longer hair. I even went as far as tightening the vocal cords but stopped when the voice was a bit higher and my intervention was not too noticeable. I think everyone just thought she had become better at speaking with a female voice.

An incident did occur with one guy who worked with stunts. He wasn't a stunt guy, just someone who liked to blow things up. To explain what happened I need to step back a bit and talk about my experience of playing the role of a firestarter.

When I concentrated on heating things up or making them catch fire, I didn't expect it to actually happen and because the belief wasn't there, I knew nothing would actually happen. However, I started chatting to this cameraman, in between scenes and he talked about the major abilities that he believed humans were capable of. He based his list on what he believed was provable fact. What is one person's hard fact is another person's myth, but the important point is that he believed it and he made me believe it too. He believed in firestarters because of something called spontaneous human combustion. There were cases of people bursting into flames with no known cause and he believed that a firestarter was responsible. He also talked about telepathy, telekinesis, healing, speaking to the dead and seeing the future. The fact that I was able to heal people and he didn't know that but knew there were people like me made his other thoughts sound more believable.

Now when I thought about heating something up and believed that I could actually do it, I knew I had to be careful. Because I was an eight-year-old and they didn't want to worry me or horrify me in any way, I was taken to the stunt people who explained about a gel they used that would catch fire, but not actually burn them. They also made sure that I would see everyone who pretended to be hurt or die, get up and tell me they were OK. So when I was asked to set someone on fire, I concentrated on setting the gel on fire rather than the person. Reinforcing my belief was the fact that when I was asked to concentrate on setting something on fire, it did. I knew that part of that was the excellent special effects department, but I also believed that I was responsible.

Bee was still my personal assistant and minder, so if Triss and Pierce were delayed, which was often, Bee would take me home. On the night of the incident, this idiot waited in the car park and confronted Bee as we approached her car. He called her all sorts of names that didn't make sense to me and then offered to make a real woman of her. He even pulled out a knife.

Bee pulled me behind her and tried to back away slowly. I could feel her shaking in fear. That really pissed me off. I decided to take action. I didn't want anyone to know that I was able to set things on fire, but heating something up is not obvious so I concentrated on making the crotch of his jeans get really hot. The man stopped his speech, mid-word, did a high pitched scream, dropped his knife and frantically started trying to get his trousers off, while Bee and I looked on confused. I was pretending to be confused and I think I was doing a good job of it.

Someone heard the scream and came running. He called security because a man screaming, trousers and underpants around his ankles with his hands holding his private parts in front of a young woman and an eight-year-old girl takes a lot of explaining. We actually went back to my dressing room so that Bee could calm down and inform Triss of what had happened, or at least, what she knew of what happened. The presumption was the man was crazy and you can't understand crazy people.

From then on Bee and I were given a rape alarm necklace. Bee was also given a can of mace, whatever that is, and we were escorted to the car in the evenings. I never saw that man again.

My other intervention was harder to monitor. A month passed with me making sure Triss and Pierce were fertile, so now it was up to them. A week before Christmas Triss started throwing up in the morning. I googled what that could mean and confronted Triss to see if she was pregnant. Triss was 39 years old and had been married for 15 years without conceiving so told me it was just something she had eaten.

To mollify me, she did a pregnancy test and for my education, she showed me how it all worked. She bought the test, explained what you needed to do and even let me be there. She carefully used her mid-stream, explaining what that meant and then almost fainted when the test came up positive.

Chapter 18

Triss had pulled herself together after she had gotten over the shock of the pregnancy test and allowed the joy to shine through. She did decide to break the news to Pierce gently, err.. not.

She had about half an hour to get a hold of herself and then we trooped down for dinner. Her face seemed to go between shock and joy and back again. If Pierce had been paying attention he would have known something was up, but he came in, apologising for not being earlier, and sat down. Maria brought out the food. Bee could see something was up but didn't know what to ask.

Maria usually cooks too much and rather than wasting the food and overloading our plates, she puts it all in the middle of the table for us to help ourselves. We say Grace and then start diving in. Triss or Bee usually help me. Not that I really need it, they just do it automatically and I don't want to upset them by looking ungrateful.

“Dear, will you pass the potatoes, by the way, I'm pregnant,” Triss remarked.

Bee gasped, but Pierce was clearly still preoccupied with work. “That's nice dear,” he said distractedly, passing the potatoes.

I laughed, which brought a confused look from Pierce. He looked around and caught us all looking at him. Bee was grinning, and Triss was smirking at him.

We could all see him try and work out what he had missed and replay the conversation.

Bee put him out of his misery, sort of. “When is the baby due?” she asked.

“Whose baby?” Pierce asked.

“I'm not sure, I have only found out tonight,” Triss replied to Bee, ignoring Pierce.

“Whose baby?” Pierce asked louder and there was a bit of sharpness to it this time which made me frown.

Triss looked him straight in the eyes, “Our baby,” she replied softly.

Rather than the joy I was expecting, Pierce's face went expressionless.

“Excuse me,” he said very formally and got up and left the room.

I could see tears in Triss' eyes as she got up and hurried after him. I wanted to go too, but Bee stopped me and told me they needed alone time. Later I heard some shouting and Pierce left the master bedroom to sleep in a guest room. When I heard the door slam, I sneaked in to see Triss sobbing in bed. I climbed into bed with her and hugged her. She turned around to hold me, still crying like the world had ended.

I wanted to ask what was wrong but didn't want to make her feel any worse. When she calmed down, she did tell me.

“He doesn't believe the baby is his,” she whisper sobbed, “he said he is infertile.”

I felt a rush of guilt. I had caused this. Although to be fair, he should know that Triss would never be unfaithful. My guilt turned to anger towards him. How could he think such a thing?

That anger helped tremendously with my characterisation of Charlie. There were lots of scenes where Charlie gets really angry and I had struggled to express sufficient anger for the director. I stopped calling him Daddy and started just calling him director, so he knew I was angry at him.

He even tried to justify himself to me. “When we hadn't had children for some time, I took some tests and found out the problem was me. I was sterile. If Triss is pregnant and the baby isn't mine, whose is it?” he asked. His voice was as expressionless as his face, but I knew it was hiding a world of hurt.

“Did you know that hundreds or even thousands of people each year who are told they are going to die from cancer, spontaneously get better. No one knows why. They are ill, horribly ill and then ... they are not. Medicine does not know everything.”

“Are you saying I could have got better?” he asked me.

I almost laughed at the idea of a grown man asking an eight-year-old girl such a question. Instead, I answered seriously. “What is more likely, you got better, they got it wrong or Triss has cheated on you, director.” I added 'director' to give a little sting to my words and let him know exactly what I thought.

I left him to stew on that. That night, Triss and Pierce didn't come home to dinner and the next morning there was a huge bunch of roses in a vase on the table. I still called him director until he formally apologised to all of us the next day. He called himself all kinds of self derogatory words and begged us, subtly hinting that we were kind and generous, to forgive him. I waited to see how Mummy reacted and when she smiled at him and opened her arms I was able to let it go and hug him as well. The memory of feeling such indignant anger stayed with me, though, helping me with my acting.