The Devil's Breath

I was born dead.

At least, that's what my death certificate says.

Everyone has their own version of what happened that day. My dad calls it a miracle. My mother called it the devil's work. She spent my entire life believing something evil brought me back.

I never believed her.

Not until my life stopped feeling like my own.

Now I don't recognize the people around me. I don't recognize myself. And the more I try to remember the night everything changed, the more I'm forced to question whether it really started that night at all.

Maybe it started the day I took my first breath.

Or maybe... the thing that breathed wasn't me.

Some secrets are buried for a reason. Mine should have stayed dead.

Edited by my amazing friend: @Dewdroppr