From the moment I opened my eyes, I didn’t belong on this planet. I was weird; an outsider. Untouchable, really. Though my hair was ordinary black, my color changing eyes stumped the doctors. It was unprecedented for someone to have eyes that naturally changed from violet to gold. The doctors convinced my parents that due to the way my eyes changed color I would most likely lose part or all of my vision. My mother always worried without much reason, but I suppose being told that your only daughter might go blind may provoke that attribute. I never did, though.
Everyone thought of me as a weak child; too weak to live through her first year of life. They were wrong though. My heart was strong. No matter what they said, I feared to reach my dying day and so I pushed on.
The first few days of my life were tests. They would test my blood, my reflexes, and so on.
“Mrs. Thorne, your daughter is weaker than most children at this age. We should keep her a little while longer so we can run a few more tests.”
In my head, I would answer every time: “Go on. Run all the tests you want. One day, I will be stronger than you. And when I remind you of the days when you called me a weakling, you will go on your knees and beg for mercy. So go on, but one day you will all bow before me.”
And so, that thirst, that desperate need for power planted itself deep in my heart. Unconsciously, I nourished this seed and it grew inside me. Somewhere, somehow, I knew that it would someday flourish and bloom. But it was what happened on my 12th birthday that changed my life drastically, forever.
