"Every breath I take is like flicking your thumb down on the ignition of a lighter. It sometimes will only take one go to light up; other times it takes a couple tries. I'm a loose cannon, a grenade that's had the stop pulled out. I could blow at any minute, and smash everything in my course."

My abilities were discovered by my parents. One day when I was five I had fallen down and scraped my knee. Being very sheltered as a child, this was one of the wost things that had happened to me at that age. I cried, and cried. My parents came rushing out, but when they touched me they quickly recoiled.

My skin was boiling. Touching me was like sticking your hand in an oven set at 450 degrees. My parents started to panic, and quickly ushered me into our house, and into the basement. I sat on the cool cement floors, with boiling tears streaming down my face, as my parents came rushing down with our family bible.

My parents were both extremely religious people, and believed that praying can solve the problem to anything. They believed that I was being taken over by the Devil, and then he was personally having my give off a fraction of Hell's heat from my body.

We sat there for hours, my cries turning into sobs, and loneliness seeping through me; as I desperately wanted to be hugged by my parents. Anytime I would attempt to near them, they would yell at me, and tell me to go sit where I had been. They didn't want me to interrupt their praying.

Finally, after what felt like forever, they had gotten up, and attempted to touch me. When they were finally able to they lifted me up, and brought me to the bathroom. There they stripped me down, and started scrubbing at my skin. I cried as they continued to scrub me until I was raw. They were attempting to physically cleanse me from my run in with the 'Devil'.

After the event, I was never treated the same. They were even stricter with me, and had me attend mass everyday. I had thought that it could never get worse, but then they had another child.

This child was loved greatly because that child, my brother, was not dammed like me. They told me on a regular occasion, that I was filled with evil, and needed to attend mass more often.

By the age of 12 I had become accustom of my daily duties, that my parents would force upon me, so that one day I would become 'clean'. They knew I still had the 'evil' in me since at times I would either accidentally melt my fork at the dinner table, or end of boiling my cup of water when I held it in my hand. Ever night I would go to the bathroom, and scrub my skin raw, everyday I would go to 8 o'clock mass, every day I lived life as an abomination.

My brother, Matthew, was praised in our family while I was looked down upon. He was given multiple florescent gifts for his birthday, while I was given only one; which normally consisted of either more holy water, or a wooden cross. He only had to go to mass on Sunday, and was able to attend with our parents; while I was sent to go alone every day.

When I turned 15, my life changed. It was the day of my birth which had ment more strictness than usual. I was forced to cleanse myself 3 times on my birthday, and I was forced to read specific sections of the bible; which my parents would pick out. I grew sad though when I saw my parent giving large, loving hugs to my brother, so I broke down.

Tears streamed down my face, and I let out a sob. The bible in my hand had burned, and soon enough, flames were formed on my hands. I started to hyperventilate upon seeing this, and tried my best to stop it. When I heard a strange crackle sound by my ear, my hand went up to my hair, only to find it had turned to flames.

My parents started to panic when they saw this. They immediately told me to go outside. Once I did, they took a hose and sprayed me down, stopping my flames. As I was walking up the stair to the porch, so I could go inside with them. The door was slammed in my face.

My parents look at me with fear in their eyes, as they yelled for me to leave their property.

"Demon child," They screamed at me.

I backed away from them slowly, and walked down the steps of my home. I looked back to see them slam the door, and heard the click of the locks being set in place.

I looked ahead at the road in front of my, and started to walk away. I was a monster to them.

I was a monster to myself.