You were a family friend of the March's. Your mother and Ms. March having been best friends. But during birth, your mother died, leaving your upbringing void of a well needed woman's touch. That's where the March's came in.

You'd always get sent over to their house to do any labour around the house that needed done and would then spend time with the girls to give your personality more than just what your father had planned. And boy did that work out well.

You were sweet, caring, kind, generous, understanding and much more than you had got people who expected you to be a carbon copy of your father to think.

You picked up a lot of traits and likes from the sisters, like your creativity when writing from Jo (though your father would always insist that was his doing), and so on and so forth. But especially Meg.

You both became best friends over the years. You being the creative playright and her the passionate actress. You would constantly hang out with each other and today is no different.

You were up in her room, typing away on a typewriter writing up a play for Meg, while she read the lines.

"And I say unto you, that no man shall tie me down with the chains of his single minded ideas about women and no man shall tarnish my dreams because of who I am!"

She smiles sweetly, completely different to her expression mere seconds ago. "How was that?"