He was my father and yet I never saw him. He and my mother weren't married but they would've been had the FBI not wanted him. He was the top of the Blacklist, a list of the most elite group of criminals in America. Raymond Reddington was his name and this is how I found him, or rather, how he found me. I was fifteen at the time. I was the youngest Harvard student at the time, and still to this date. Well, I guess I'm going off from what I'm trying to say. I was studying his work, his criminal profession that is. It was elegant, almost beautiful. He always left his calling card, a simple notecard with the name "Red". One day, an FBI agent came knocking on my door. "Yes?" I asked, opening the door and pulling my copper hair into a bun and looking at her quietly. "Sarah Reddington?" she asked, a monotone voice. "Yeah, who's asking?" I retorted, squinting my dark brown eyes skeptically. "I'm told you have some information on your father, Raymond Reddington," she answered. Her skin was as pale as mine, and her hair was a mousey brown. "What's that to ya?" I asked again. "Well, I'd assume you understand he's on the Blacklist," she answered. "Of course. His crimes are beautiful, elegant in a billion different ways," I smiled, a smug grin on my face. "We need help finding your father. You're the only one who can help us," she responded. "Sorry sweet cheeks, I'm not interested," I laughed, smiling. It was clear she wanted help, but I couldn't I couldn't betray my father. I shut the door again. A few hours later I got a text message. "You made the right choice not helping her," it read. "Who is this?" I typed back. "I think you know very well sweetheart," it answered. My eyes grew wide, realization flooding my face. My phone went off again and I looked down. "Meet me in the building next to the college. I think it's time we met," the text read. I tugged on my jacket, and went running down the stairs. I ran into the building, skidding to a stop when I saw him. He was a bit shorter than I expected. I stared at him. "Sarah," he said, tipping his head respectfully. He was at least fifty, his hair thinning if not gone and he wore a nice suit with a blood red tie. A black fedora sat on top of his head and his shoes looked like they were custom made. I held my breath for a moment. What could I say to him? "So, you wait until the FBI comes knocking at my door to draw your attention towards me huh?" I asked, speaking the first thought that came to my head. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be as beautifully clueless as you are," he laughed. I was a bit insulted by his remark, and to be honest, a bit shocked. His voice was deep and smooth, melting off his tongue like chocolate. "E-Excuse me?" I responded, staring at him as I waited on an explanation. "You don't understand do you? I've been here, I've paid attention. But I'll let you in on a little secret. So have about five hundred others. They want you Sarah. You hold the key to the Blacklist," he answered. "What are you talking about?" I asked. This wasn't exactly the picture perfect first conversation, but I suppose it was better than nothing. "I'm talking about you. If you can hunt me down, you can hunt anybody down. You knew where I was whilst if not before I was there. You scare the Blacklisters, but then again you entice them. You can find anybody, and that's a valuable asset. Everybody wants you, and they all have their eyes on you. Now, I could leave it at that, you'll never have seen me before and you won't ever see me again, or you can come with me. You'll be protected and you'll be a princess among ants. But, you'll never see your friends, and probably your mother again. The choice is your's sweetheart," he stated, enticingly. I didn't know what to say. I simply stared at him quietly. "Why don't you think about it over supper?" he asked, smiling a bit. "Supper? I um...I'm hardly dressed for supper," I replied, looking down at my clothes skeptically. "I'll take care of that," he smiled.
