When I was young, like many other children, I grew a fondness for drawing. Drawing was a simple way of defining beauty within a few flicks of the hand. It fascinated me. I started drawing crude stick figures whilst bored at my gran's house. The fun of it was thinking up personalities the stick figures would have, if they were to exist in our world. Over time my drawing got better, and eventually daddy put one up on the fridge. I was really proud of myself. When I went to school, I joined an art club. We would paint, and sculpt, But all I wanted to do was to draw with a marker. The leader would give me into trouble for not paying attention. I was quite annoyed and bored, and ended up leaving the club and just drew in my free-time.

I won a few art competitions when I went to high school. My Mum and Dad were really proud of my talent, and would get me supplies if I ever ran out. Sadly, like many people with a talent, I was picked on because drawing is not in their list of "normal" things. I was called a nerd, teacher's pet and so on. I spent a lot of time after school crying in my room, but then I would draw something to calm me down. I wasn't really interested in anything else. Everything else seemed really boring to me. Drawing was just so fun, because you could do anything you wanted. No limitations.

I left school at sixteen, with not much riding on my shoulder but my drawing abilities. One day when I was out shopping, I noticed a marker on the shelf. It stood out somehow, but I never really thought why. It was black with red ink, and it was just sitting there. I was drawn to it, and ended up buying it. It was quite expensive for a marker, but I couldn't help myself. It wasn't the best Marker in the world, it would smudge and sometimes stick to the paper, but I loved it.

I would sit at home all day and just draw. I would draw smiley faces, happy families, and would sometimes just doodle. Sometimes I would get bored and give the little characters spots, I don't know why. It was just something boredom did to me. I would keep all of my art in the basement and would regularly look at them for inspiration. Whilst thinking on what to draw, out of the corner of my eye I saw flashing red and blue lights, followed by my doorbell. I picked up my marker and went over to the door and turned the handle.

I will NEVER let them take my art away.