Prologue

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The 9th.

I never knew what that was until now. It has made me strong and weak. It has caused life and death. But, for me, it has only caused death.


This all started on the day I was born.

"It's the 9th," the doctor whispered.

"What?" my mom replied.

"Nothing."

The doctor passed me to my mom, I had golden brown hair, tan skin, and dark brown eyes.

He whispered to her, "Take care of her. If you don't, something bad will happen. I know this doesn't make sense to you, but soon it will. Trust me."

"I don't know what that means," my mom answered.

Her eyebrows came closer together as she looked at me. You could see the little wrinkles forming on her forehead.

"Just take care of her," the doctor replied.

The doctor wasn't calm. His fingers were trembling and his eyes were dotting around the room. His face was covered in beads of sweat as he panicked even more. Slowly he moved back, getting farther and farther away from me, like I was a threat to him and everyone. Suddenly, he walked out the door, slamming it shut.



My life has been pretty normal for the 15 years that I have lived. I had friends and heartbreaks. Like anyone else. I went to school and lived my life.

There were some times that it felt like my head was being smashed against the wall and I really did not know why. We went to many doctors; no one knew the cure.

It was hopeless.

I just had to deal with it.

As I grew older, I felt like there is something lurking in the shadows. There was nothing there, though, I knew something was there.

Like someone looking in to see me, hiding from me, following me. 

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