You pick up this book and turn the page, what for?

Maybe you knew me before?

Did you just randomly find it and know nothing about why it was written or who wrote it?

In your eyes it could have just “looked interesting” maybe intriguing?

I may not know the reason for you picking this book. All I can say is it shouldn't disappoint.

If you don't already know, this book is about my life.

Both the good and the bad, the life story of Eleanor Francis. Some could be asking yourself “do you mean the CEO?” others that name might not ring any bells.

The answer is yes.

At 25 I became a CEO, and at 29 I published this book.

In some eyes I was at the peak of my career and they would do anything to be where I was.

I mean who wouldn't want the money and list of accomplishments I had at such a young age.

That was all at face value though, my nights were long and filled with despair and self hatred.

But before I get into why that was and how my nights became so different from my days.

I'm going to tell you a little about my family background.

I've lived in San Francisco for as long as I can remember.

I lived in an average home with my mother, father, and younger sister till the age of about 14.

In those years I went to an average public school that wasn't huge but also wasn't small and my home life was nothing to brag about.

Each parent had their favorite and sadly I wasn't my fathers.

My father was the one who brought home the checks while my mother drowned herself with alcohol and since she was known as an alcoholic couldn't find a job.

My father didn't care to divorce, to him it would have been more work and he would have to take full custody of my sister and I, which he did not want.

Not when he could leave me to my mother and focus on my sister's upbringing.

All he cared about was the fact his small business was growing and that my younger sister would be the next in the family to have big accomplishments.

In my fathers eyes I was the spitting image of my mother and the only future I had was to wallow in self pity and end up where my mother is, an alcoholic.

I guess he wasn't wrong but that's beside the point.

He was no better than the rest of us.

One day when I was 14 and my sister was 10 I went to school like any other day.

My sister stayed home because she was sick and my father went to work.

Little did we know my fathers “work” was just a company that majored in fraud, I guess he must have stolen from the wrong person because that day couldn't have ended worse.

I came home to my mother and sisters bodys on the floor.

They had bleed out from having their artery sliced with a blade and next to them my father with an open bottle of pills next to him.

I guess he came home early that day and saw what had happened and either out of fear of being next or the sadness from the death of my prodigy sister he decided death was his only escape.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I broke into tears after that.

I never really cared for my parents but my sister never wanted to be involved.

We grew up together as if we were twins.

Our parents may have seen us as different sides of the family but to us there was nowhere to run but to each other.

I cried for half an hour or so and then went on a search for proof against my fathers business.

He had a study that was always locked but my guess was he had the keys on him.

I was right, he did and in that study I found proof of every case of fraud he had part in.

I called the police and told them what had happened and that I had proof of my fathers fraud.

I left the papers and laptop filled with information by my fathers body.

I took my mothers stash of cash for alcohol and some water and food and put it in a bag with some clothes and left.

There was no way I was going to let them put me in foster care for the next 4 years when I've practically lived alone my entire life.

I went far from home and found some cover for the night in an alley.

I had a feeling the police would come looking for me so I hid.

I ate a little and layed down to sleep but I couldnt get rid of this feeling of anger against my father.

He actually cared so little for our family that he put us all in danger and now everyone I had to rely on was dead and I was left completely alone.

I had never been so angry.

I grew up with an alcoholic as a mother and a father that didn't even see me as his kid and yet I had never been this angry.

But was it really anger or was it pain and fear from being left alone and not knowing what to do next.

While trapped within those questions I came to a conclusion.

I decided that night that I didn't care if I died but I wasn't going to die until I showed up my father in his own goals.

That even the daughter whom he saw only a future of failure, was going to become what he could never achieve.

Little did I know I was going to do it in such a remarkable time too. I guess I can thank him for the inspiration even though he was a worthless father.

I was out on the road for about a week before returning to my old home. There were still blood stains on the floor.

The cops just took the bodys and papers and left the house as it was, oh well.

There was nothing I could do but try and get rid of the memories of the moment I walked through the door.

I tried to get as much blood out of the floor as possible and cleaned up the house a little. I didn't know what to do next but I knew I needed somewhere to stay. I heard a knock at the door.

It was our landlord who was also our neighbor.

She must have seen me run into the house.

I knew the landlord well.

Me and my sister would sometimes go over to her house if we didn't feel like being at home.

She was almost like a second mother.

She had kids of her own and was a single mother so I didn't want to stay with her but I could stay in my home.

So I got a job and told her that I would keep up the pay as long as she kept the fact I was there a secret and kept the power on.

She reluctantly agreed knowing that if she didn’t I would have just gone somewhere else.

I stayed out of school for a couple months and worked full time in different jobs.

Sometimes I was a waitress, other times I was a cashier. As long as it brought home a check I didn't care the jobs were all outside of my home district so people wouldn't recognize me.

I kept up on the bills somehow and went back to school when I was ready, I did have to switch schools though.

I decided to go to a school that I had to pay for and that was small so I had less of a chance of getting caught.

It wasn't a regular school, it was more like a cram school.

I happened to hear about it while at one of my jobs, lucky me I guess.

It was cheap but what they based their teachings on was more useful than any other public school. There were only a few of us, maybe 18.

The school wasn't in the best area but the fact it was small and sort of unknown was good for me.

I barely survived on the money I made but luckily this cram school gave us lunch so at least I was getting something out of my money.

I was always tired from working at night and then having to get up to go to school.

Everyone in our class seemed friendly but I had no interest in making friends.

There was already too much on my plate anyway.

I made it clear to everyone I didn't care for friends. Everyone got the notice except this one kid named Jackson, brown hair, green eyes, and was a little taller than me.

He wouldn't annoy me with questions about my personal life or anything but he wouldn't leave me alone either.

He would give me snacks if I looked tired and when we had to do group projects he would make sure to team with me.

He was kind and I didnt get why because to me the world was cruel so why be kind to strangers.

I didn't completely ignore him though.

We would have small talk here and there and always exchange greetings, nothing unusal. Little did I know this kid who was far too kind for his own good would become a huge part of my life.