The title says it all really.

2. Tara DeBateau never thought she’d run away from home. Most of her life she’d had everything she wanted on a plate, served with the finest complements. She had been happy; at the least she had been successfully disillusioned into believing she was happy. “But that’s it, isn’t it?” Tara cried, tears streaming down her petite face. “Life is all one shattering façade!” An angry voice from the next room told her to quieten down, except with more expletives and threats.

3. Life hadn’t always been so depressing. Tara had once thought Armand, her adoptive father, to be her saviour. He was handsome and strong and smart and very, very rich. Tara felt privileged that he hand-picked her from the orphanage to be his heir after his wife, Jessica, left him. However, as her eighteenth birthday approached he became more demanding, less patient and Armand disintegrated into a nasty bully. Tara has begun to fear for her life if she spoke her feelings and told him she did not want to run his heartless company.

4. So here she was. Gazing across a bed jam-packed with anything and everything she could possibly need. Her saxophone, her netbook, her books. Quite a few of them, but not even a small percentage of her enormous collection. Some pots and pans, a science award, musical scores and clothes. With a final sigh and her heart beginning to flood with blood with the nervous anticipation of what she was about to do, she opened her bedside drawer and withdrew her savings – her allowance from the past eight months since she got this ridiculous idea.

5. £10,500. A preposterous amount for a teenage girl but Armand had always substituted love with money, and he had a lot of “love” to go around in this case. Tara closed the drawer quietly and slipped the money into a zip-up pouch on her battered suitcase. She’d had this suitcase since her father and her went to Twikkii Island when she was a little girl and it had been her faithful companion on all ventures since.

6. A long hour later, Tara finally heard the harsh footsteps of her father plodding off to bed across their lavish apartment. She sprung into action, her mind racing. First, she grabbed her suitcase and felt a twinge of remorse that she could not pack her saxophone and most of her books. Was it a sad reflection of her personality that she would pack her netbook and charger, but not her literature? “Who cares what I pack?” she hissed at her own conscience.

7. Shaking now, Tara quickly ducked into her walk-in closet and brought out her project for the past couple of weeks – knotted sheets. Five single sheets had been tied together to form a long rope with knots all the way down to aid her abseiling effort. She had been practicing on days after-school when Armand was out and was finally confident in her abilities.

8. With as much stealth as she could muster, Tara picked up one corner of her desk and slowly pulled it aside so that she could access her full-length windows. Her fingers shaking nervously, she unhooked the latch on the window and slid it upwards. The height from her bedroom was very threatening; it was the highest vantage point from the building.

9. Tara carefully released an end of the sheet and watched it billow in a pretty fashion down the height of the building. It dangled just above the barbeque directly below her window, three stories down. Tara took a deep breath and tied the other end of her homemade rope to a corner of her desk. She then began her journey.

10. At first, her descent was very slow and difficult with a suitcase in tow. Her grunts and gasps were inescapable but plagued her – the worry her father may hear haunted her. Once she got to about a third of the way down she figured it would be safe and dropped her suitcase on the grass. It landed with a soft clunk and, thanks to the practice, Tara sashayed down with ease.

11. Tara breathed a giddy sigh or relief as her shoe made contact with the rusted barbeque. The hardest part was over and she was free to continue her journey. She knew exactly where she was headed – Riverblossom Hills. She had researched the town and from what she could decipher, it was a very small and close-knit community. All she had to do was find a house and she would be set. She could live out her life in happiness, with the friends she was sure to make along the way.

12. It was just gone nine o’clock and a train to Académie Le Tour where she could change would be leaving a 21:23. She had to act fast, run to the station, jump on the train and catch another one at the station of ALT, straight to Riverblossom Hills. That was the theory.

13. The reality was that she got to ALT fine, but there was no train station in Riverblossom Hills so she had to take a series of buses. But this was it. Tara stepped off the vehicle and it chugged along without her. Inhaling deeply, she smiled a genuine, happy smile. This quickly turned to a look of horror.

14. How could she be so stupid? Her suitcase! It was on the bus! She watched with horror as it became a spot in the distance. She could only be thankful that she had transferred the money from the suitcase to her pocket. It made her feel a little insecure that she was carrying thousands in her pockets, but what could be done?

15. “You look a little lost, sweetheart.” a fellow redhead remarked to her. “Very. I just left my bag on the bus.” Tara murmured. The woman looked sympathetic for her, “You’re not from around here, are you?” “No… how could you tell?” she pondered.

16. “It’s a tiny town honey, everyone knows each other and their business I’m afraid. Are you visiting someone?” she asked. Tara shook her head slowly. “I’m looking to live here. I’m eighteen!” she cried in response to the incredulous look on the woman’s face. She smiled. “My name is Alexandra O’Mackey. Call me Alex. If you ever need help from me, I live on Riverbend Road.”

17. Tara nodded slowly, “Very kind of you. I must be off now, I’m trying to find somewhere without the conmen getting to me first.” Alex laughed at the joke and smiled a very pretty smile. “I should go too, I need to meet my daughter from school. Goodbye!”

18. Without the conmen getting to me first. A devious, artful, calculating, crooked, deceitful, double-dealing, duplicitous, errant, erring, evasive, fishy, foxy, fraudulent, guileful, indirect, insidious, insincere, oblique, ubiquitous, roundabout, scheming, shady, shifty, shrewd, sly, sneaking, sneaky, surreptitious, treacherous, tricky, underhanded and wily plan came into the head of Snidely Whiplash, a man eavesdropping not too far away.

19. A strange man jumped out in front of Tara. “My dear! I heard you need a place to live. It just so happens that I have the perfect solution! Would you step into my office?” he had a voice like a greasy weasel and Tara instantly distrusted him. “Err-” she hesitated.

20. SNAP. Snidely had snapped his fingers and instantly, Tara found herself in a rather classily furnished office. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, my dear Miss. DeBateau! Find love! Family! Riches! And escape from that gosh-darned father.” Tara paled visibly. “What?”

21. “My mistake…” Snidely grinned, revealing yellow teeth. “I am Mr. Whiplash but most folks refer to me as some sort of Unsavoury Charlatan. You came here to escape your past and I am offering you a solution. A bargain one, too. Take a seat!” he commanded. Tara sat cautiously.

22. As soon as she sat, the man began. He talked and talked and his rhythm and pace and pitch increased until she could not make out a word he said. She wanted to interrupt and mention that she couldn’t tell what he meant but the more he kept going the less control she felt she had. Soon, she was barely aware of her own existence; she was in a trance. And yet, the same words flashed around her mind. A home, a family, money, love. He promised her this.

23. “What do you want?” she heard herself ask. Snidely laughed, “Excellent, my dear! You’re interested! How much money do you have?” “$10,423.87 exactly.” she spoke, hypnotized. His eyes lit up with greed. “Exquisite. Now if you’d just sign this contract…” he gestured to the table.

24. Tara reached for a pen and Snidely chuckled his maniacal chuckle again. “Not necessary, my dear. Just say it for me, loud and clear.” “What do I say?” Tara’s brow furrowed. “Mr. Whiplash, I agree to the Terms and Conditions.” “But… I haven’t read them!” Tara gasped. “Nobody ever does my dear, but it’s never got anyone into trouble before!”

25. So Tara said it. “Mr. Whiplash, I agree to the Terms and Conditions.” Snidely was ecstatic with glee. “And the last bit… I need you to say, ‘Sign me up for a Legacy!’” Tara froze, if only for a split-second, “Wait-” “SAY IT!” Snidely screamed. “Sign me up for a Legacy!” Tara blurted quickly and out of fear.