I chose to summarize the life of a character.
My name is Elizabeth, full name: Elizabeth Marie Watson. Fairly typical name, or at least I think so. Maybe my parents thought that giving me a typical name would help me to have a nice average life, but if that's what they were thinking, then they were wrong. First of all, I wasn't actually born Elizabeth Marie Watson, I was born Elizabeth Marie Davis. I was given up for adoption when I was five years old, because my parents really couldn't handle a child and running a circus at the same time. Along with the name, they hoped to give me a normal life, and they did that by giving me up for adoption. Mark and Pam Watson adopted me, and they seemed normal enough. They actually are fairly normal for the most part as well.
I lived many happy years with them as a child, trips to the playground, amusement parks, and taking me to school every day. They loved me as if I were their own, and I loved them. It was just us three at home, so all of their time was focused on me. Of course I never bothered asking them why they never decided to have kids of their own. Why should I? I never thought that it was any of my business.
“Why didn't they have kids on their own?” My best friend, Amanda, asked me one day during our typical Friday night sleepover.
“I don't know. Maybe they couldn't? I've never really asked them.”
“Maybe you should. That's something that I would want to know if I were you. That's all I'm saying.”
After this little conversation with Amanda, I started to get curious. Maybe they had a child before and they lost it. Who knows? I decided to start my little hunt in our attic. I didn't go up there much, because there wasn't anything up there that I needed, but I did know they had boxes upon boxes of old scrapbooks and other photo albums.
I searched through tons of fairly average stuff, pictures of their wedding day, pictures of myself, after the age of five anyways. Absolutely nothing seemed out of place, until I came across an old family picture from when they were kids. This photo was at a family reunion, they were both kids, and I didn't think much of it at first. Then the realization finally hit me, why would they be at a family reunion together as kids, unless they were related? I slammed the photo album shut, and turn around before the dust even reaches my nose. My “parents” must actually be related. How could this be?
Pam and Mark must actually be cousins. My whole life was a lie, I was already weird enough considering I was adopted out of a family of circus people, but now my adoptive parents were related! That's probably why they never had kids of their own, because they were genetically related. I decided that I would never let them know that I knew, but I could never look at them the same.