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No one thought it was possible. Everyone told me I couldn't do it. I was constantly down graded and made out to be a failure or not good enough for this place. So I went and fucking proved them wrong again and again.

I stood outside of my new house. My graduation gown still draped over my shoulders after receiving my doctorate in medicine. I took the cap off my head and held it beside me, taking in the view in front of me.

"You did it Addison," I smirked to myself before walking into my new suburban home.

This was my first real home in a long time. Throughout childhood, I couch surfed for a while so I didn't have to sleep on the streets. It was hard when I was younger trying to explain my situation to the parents of the little friends I did have that eventually left because my life was too hard for them. When I got old enough to start street fighting, I used the money to work towards school and get an education for myself. I had to ration out food, clothes and water a lot and found times when I wouldn't have enough to last. The fights only paid well depending on if you win or if you were favourable by the bidders. My parents abandoned me when I was young. I don't remember anything about them except the memory of being forced onto the streets. They just left me to rot. Not a care in the world for their only daughter. In a way I wish I could see their faces now. It would be priceless. If I've learnt anything growing up, it's that you have to only care about yourself. No relationships nothing. To succeed you have to be the best. And I knew I was.

I was told from a young age that I'd never do anything with my life. I was a street kid after all. I used dumpsters and trash cans during the rain for shelter. I had to fight for money to get food and water so I wouldn't starve. I had to fend from stay animals that tried to attack me and ignore the grunts and snickers from the rich as they ventured past.

I don't like to talk about my life because people always feel sorry for me. I don't want there pity. I was perfectly fine. Going to school was hard. I never had enough money to actually go so I found old school books in the trash that I studied over and over until I memorised each chapter word for word. It wasn't until I turned twelve that I was old enough to fight. I got into street fighting and that's how I made my money. At thirteen I was able to attend school. I couch hopped till I was sixteen and then I rented out my first apartment. Once I graduated high school at eighteen I went to uni and studied until I became a Sports Doctor. I studied 8 years in 4. I was told there was no way o could study such heavy work loads in such little time but I proved them wrong. And here I am at 22 with a PhD and a smile on my face.

I'm known on the streets as the Walking Willow. People in the streets are smart enough not to fight me because I always win. Street fighting around here is illegal but it was good cash. Without the street fighting, I don't know if I would've made it out alive. I fought within the company now which was twice the amount of cash and a lot safer but still slightly illegal. But what's life without a little danger?

I slipped into my scrubs ready for my first day as a Junior Sports Doctor. I tied my curly blonde hair into french braids. I wasn't a big makeup wearer so I left it natural, not like I needed the makeup anyway. I grabbed all of the files I needed and headed out the door. I skipped over three towns from where I was originally from and moved into this one. I wanted a new start away from all the street fighting. I was still signed with the company because I was the raining champ for six years and I'm not letting anyone take that away from me. Which wasn't possible I was simply too good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked into the hospital with my head held high and more than ready to give back to society.

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