Every time I see someone off from an airport or train station, I think of what if it were the last time I ever got to see them? Not because something would happen to me causing problems but because something might happen to them. You never know, hijack or bomb blast or a simple gunshot. Every time I met someone, I pur them in danger. Nobody managed to get me, of course. Being an ex-CIA agent, I had quite a few tricks up my sleeve. Till date nobody had managed to catch me. Except maybe one. Was I narcissistic? Maybe a little. Prideful? Hell yeah. These were my flaws but to be fair to myself, they were my only flaws.
Anyhow. How about we start with a simple introduction?
My name is Natasha Randall, which of course isn’t my real name. Three years. Three different names. Three different personalities. I went straight out from nerdy, to emo, to high school cheerleader.
My parents were agents too but they were framed for something they did not do. What’s worse? They were framed by the people they were trying to protect. Stupid CIA. Remember when I said we were ex-agents? This is what I meant.
After the accusation, we were forced to split up. I would be tortured if I stayed and they were supposedly convicts. Dad went to France, Mum went to Scotland and I left for India. We still keep in touch of course…a cosy WhatsApp group named Family Lounge. I’m pretty sure every family has one.
The CIA is still looking for us, and a bunch of their agents know about this blog. Postingthis would be a giveaway of my location…you know location trackers and stuff.
But it doesn’t matter…I spent three years living in fear
Time to clear my name and get back.