My family welcomed me - I say welcomed, soon after I no longer was - welcomed me, their second born after thirteen year old Viktoria Grace Kirkland-Jones - later just Kirkland, into the family at 4:51:37 p.m on the sixteenth of June. My father was obviously displeased that they had another child to deal with. His face was identical, my mother told me later, to the one he wore when he was told his first born was a girl.
It was safe to say that my family was screwed up. As more and more children were born -four in five years, he began to suspect not all of them were his. In short. My family was destined to fall apart. It was like a curse, no couple in my family seemed to stay together. And so, their love, the foundations of our family, crumbled like the walls of Pompeii, to our horror.
This was because, after family feuds my father Samuel, a well known Norwegian dark wizard - decided he was ashamed of his wife Diana's - my mother's - 'disloyalty' as he spouted countless lies about his children and their way of birth to the papers, including things about me which I now know to be false. What is supposed to be understood is that Mother did have some of my siblings, notably the youngest two, Zandria and Peter, with an Italian pure blood, but Father warped the truth so far that it was barely recognisable as the true story that it had been before. His aim was to ruin Mother as he claimed he never wanted her to bear any child of hers,that she forced him, and all sorts of absolute lies.
For me, life has always been about the simpler pleasures, after a moderately difficult life to leave behind. After the family split, I was cast out of my home like an unclean thing, looked down at by the neighbours who were gossiping on foolishly like the old ladies I thought they'd become. Eventually I found my place in the Swedish apartment of older sibling and lifeline Viktoria, who had moved only to get away from the stressful family life, but could never have turned me away - I had turned up, battered, bruised and begging, at her doorstep.
Everyone has secrets, and I am no exception. After being dropped off at the door by a weeping mother and uncaring father, living with my eighteen year old sister at the age of five was no piece of cake - at first the age gap appeared to the both of us to be insurmountable. It was difficult for each of us to entirely understand each other, to interpret what was meant - but we agreed to muddle through, it didn't need to be said that we needed each other.
Viktoria was always convinced that I was magic, even when I had reached eight with no signs manifesting themselves to show my 'magicalness' - even when I was doubting it myself. She was right, of course. If I hadn't been cast out already, I know I would have been then, disowned and labelled a Squib. But Viktoria's belief in me was unshakable, and I couldn't have crushed her dream. Of having raised a wizard, even if it was her snooty little brother who was obviously destined for Kask from the moment of his birth. Maybe if my father had noticed that, life might be different.
She was proved right on the sixteenth of June that year, the day of my ninth birthday, when the candles blew out for me. I must admit to my slight disappointment of not having been able to blow them out personally, but Viktoria re-lit them in the spirit of a beautifully amazing elder sister, just so I could be happy and make my birthday wish. It took me a while to think of one, unlike the majority of children who celebrated their birthday, as my only wish had been answered - to be proved magical. So little me, having fanciful dreams and a naive mind, I closed my eyes. Blew out the candle. And I wished for something radical.
The words haunt me. 'I wish that my whole family could just be happy again.' My crazy little kiddy-wish never became reality, while I was upset that the fairies never granted it when I was little, now, when I have surpassed the time of believing in wish granting fairies, I am no longer surprised. The wounds and scars my father left on all of us were never going to heal, and my mother could never have gone back to him after such hurt.
When my time came - on my eleventh birthday, the day the letter came, Viktoria was maturing at age 24, but the unbreakable bond remained. She'd had many spouses, but if they couldn't put up with me she told them to screw off, that she couldn't let go of true family. Even now, that touches my heart, remembering what she said to those men. She could have dismissed me, but we held on to each other, as if we were twins rather than thirteen years apart.
The saddest day of my life should by right have been my happiest, the day we should have waved and been excited instead of clinging to one another and crying. I am of course, speaking of the day that Viktoria had to wave me off as I got on the EESM Express. It was hard to go away - I was almost home schooled, but Viktoria insisted that the experience would be great. I trusted her, even though I was doubtful at first.
As I had always predicted, I was almost immediately sorted into Kask. Even though I had hidden my lust for popularity, indulgence and riches for Viktoria's sake, it was there, eating away at me - so in my days at EESM I began to display my father's arrogance, that caused the professors of the time to compare me to him. I could have slapped them every time. It was in my mind to do so more than once.
I was a Millionaire during my time at EESM. Because of the popularity it brought with the status I was prepared to lie about my upbringing, and steal money from others to get in with them. I never told Viktoria about the lying nor the stealing, every time I did any such thing I heard her scolding me in my head, saw her disapproving expression. This makes me a liar, a double-crosser and ever so secretive. Just like my father. And I know that for fact now, although nobody else does, as I have made such an effort to conceal that behind charisma.
Being out in the world is difficult to accept, I am twenty-five now and she is thirty-eight, I moved out at nineteen so she could get on with her life. I've found employment as an artist, how I never found this artistic part of me is inexplicable, maybe I should have been a Kute. But I've learnt my lessons in life - if I learnt nothing from my childhood, it's that you can't change the past. You can dream of flying police boxes like in the muggle movies, but in the end those are not real, like my kiddy-dream. Once a Kask, always a Kask.
I, Xavier (pronounced Zay-Vee-Er, I'm a real stickler about that) believe that I am attractive and I'm not scared to boast of it. I have a very big ego, with the life quote 'Hate Isn't That Different To Love.' If you befriend me, I can be considerate and have good advice, especially about friends. I can be coy but by nature I am extremely arrogant and self oriented most of the time, having the tendency to say what I want when I want, making my company sometimes undesirable to some.
All I want is attention, and the quicker somebody realises that the better. I lie easily and will do anything to stick around in people's heads, be popular. I'll never say no to a glass of beer and hide everything about his past behind charisma, so well I have almost forgotten it himself. I wish I could shake off my resemblance to my father, my hopes of maybe someday.
I can be very diplomatic, say wise things often enough to be considered a good advisor by some when asked a serious question, though you have to be a close friend of mine - I won't be burdened by everyone's sob stories, either because I don't care or because I want to be the king on the chess board, not the piece of someone else's game.