Not everyone can say they were born in death but I can. Sounds odd but when my sister and I were sharing the same womb we both heard the death call. She went I stayed. I've always been stubborn as hell. Her body died but her spirit stayed with me. Our mom was told she had lost her baby they didn't know I was there too. While mom cried and mourned her loss I kicked her. To the doctor she went she had bleed like a miscarriage yet she felt me kick her. To the surprise of the doctors I was still alive fighting to stay that way. Mom wasn't eight months along when I decided it was time to come out. Small screaming and bright red I made sure the world heard me. We don't have memories from birth, could you imagine how traumatic that would be on everyone? I knew it wasn't only the living in that room for me there always would be. My sister chose not to move own so her soul stayed with me grew as I did and through her the dead always loved me. Mom sick and in pain held on long enough know I would make it. I found on that day death is a harsh companion that balances the scales as need. You see my sister and I were both supposed to die because I don't someone had to take my place. To grandma we go. She was a real which.
OK so calling the woman who raised you a witch is not nice but I'm not lying she was a practicing witch. Anyone who was sensitive to abnormal occurrences get spooked around me even when they cannot see my companions they feel them. That's not nice for most people.
