Scalding

Black. The ominous atmosphere rattled me in my state of disorientation. Black. A burst of white, hot light erupted around me and exploded through the air. Black. My hands. They were my hands. Why did I lose control? Why me? Black. A panicked male rushed to me and stopped about a yard short. Black. One phrase was his sole offering, "Hold on." Black. His fist clenched and a wave of pressure slammed my body backwards onto the ground. Sweet blackness.
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This is a paranormal novel written on the difference in finding yourself and inventing yourself.