clio // d2. cb. fin

Clio Halstead.

At least, that's what all the official papers say.

But they stripped it from me, just as easily as a child can be ripped from their parents hands.

Mother called me a disgrace.

Father called me worthless.

And together they threw me out with nothing but a small tote and my name. Or at least I thought.

But mother decided that someone in my line of work should not have such a prestigious name, someone like me should not bothered to be known. Father couldn't agree quick enough. The only thing I've ever seen them not argue about my entire life. They decided that I should not have a name.

So they took it from me, because I was no daughter of theirs.

It was a soft life growing up. Fluffed pillows and full stomachs, sounds of shouted words and broken glass echoing the halls. They wanted me to be a proper lady, to silence my voice.

They were right.

I was no daughter of theirs. The girl they had hoped was lost behind slammed doors.

So now it's just Clio. Nothing less.

Nothing more.