Devil's Discord

Prologue

For those who didn't read the description, here is the extended version. It's a vital part of understanding the story ~ Phoenixtongue 

      I can never remember how I got there. It's all just a blur of colors and lights, then I woke up in a bed my mind told me was my own. I had fuzzy memories of a life I never truly felt was my own, but I just rolled along with it. That morning off with a normal cup of coffee and complimentary existential crisis questioning my life desitions. Then the bomb went off. Next thing I knew, I was crawling around, screaming out names and searching for any sign of life. Every person I found was gone, their bodies littering the ground like discarded trash. As I passed by, all I could whisper was, "I'm sorry" or "This was my fault". The social workers and rescue teams showed up hours later with food, survival gear, and medical assistance, only to find they were too late. They tried to fix me up but found no scratches, no broken bones, not even a bruise. When they found I was mobile, they bombarded me with questions, asking anything that could help them figure out this catastrophic event. Nothing came out of those talks. Eventually, they quarantined the area as unsafe, packing up anything of interest or use, and then leaving. For the next few years, I was shuttled around the world, everyone waiting to see the only survivor of the Tiksiva Cataclysm. My face became known around the world, the only remnant of an entire civilization. They call me Nesya, the Miricle. I'm under world-protection twenty-four/seven and nowhere close to being normal. But this isn't what I deserve. I should have died with my people, and instead, I'm the face of their loss. Why? Because I'm the reason the bomb went off.