Prologue: Who am I?

Looking around the classroom, I see the familiar flicker of colour surrounding each person.

You see, I can detect people's auras, the normal colours; black, yellow, green, blue, red, purple, white and grey.

These follow me through my everyday life: day in, day out. Sometime though, I'll see a different colour, maybe a deep violet or a bright bronze. Something almost unique. And I wonder... what if they are like me?

My name is Jasper Whitlock.

And I am Psychic.

Dammit!

I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!

I jump away from my keyboard, cutting the Moonlight Sonata off and rush around my room randomly chucking things into my bag.

'The only possible whay you'll make it on time is if you-'

No! I cut myself off. I promised myself I wouldn't do that anymore.

'Five minutes...' the stupid voice in my head taunts.

Shit!

"Fine. But no one can know! No one!" I grumble, secretly excited to do it again. But this... this is the last time!
'You say that every time...'

I close my eyes, bringing up the mental image of the worn, dusty, and frankly cold unused cupboard outside the auditorium.

I feel a slight jerk in my midsection and open my eyes, taking in my new surroundings.

I'm Edward Masen.

And I'm a Freak.

I hoot and holler with my mates as they push me into the forest, asking them once again to show them my "magic trick!"

Idiots.

They act as if it's some illusion, knowing that it's not, just to taunt me.

Jerks.

I snort before closing my eyes, focusing on the beast I want to become.

Effortlessly, painlessly (and most certainly not like the first time) I feel my body morph.

And on four legs, I trot back to my friends.

A giant russet wolf, like those in our tribal stories we tell around the bonfires at First Beach.

My name's Jacob. Jacob Black.

And I am a living legend.

'What the devil, indeed!' I muttered. 'The herd of possessed swine could have had no worse spirits in them than-'

Just as I was getting into the book, Wuthering Heights, I get cut off by banging my head on the ceiling.

I could've sworn I was lying on my bed...

Dammit! Not again!

Everytime I get particularily relaxed and comfortable, I find myself banging my head on something.

Sometimes it even happens while I'm asleep! I'll wake up to find my head throbbing and that I'm floating in midair.

"Bells?" My father, Charlie, suddenly yells, shattering my concentration.

Shit!

No! No! No!

Oof!
I hit the floor with a resounding thump.

I untangle myself and leap up to reassure my father that I'm okay.

I'm Isabella - Bella Swan.

And I can fly!

The ads flicker on the screen in front of me as I drop down into the couch to watch the game.

God dammit!

Where's that remote?

I finally spot it on the other side of the room, well out of arms reach. Who the hell had it over there? Damn, just as I was getting comfortable too.

"Mom?"

No answer.

"Dad?"

No sound except for the TV, spouting off facts about another product no one will buy.

Well, I'm not moving to get that remote.

I stare at the remote, will it to move towards me, smirking as it lifts up to fly straight at me.

Catching it, I change the channel and shove some popcorn in my mouth, settling down to watch the game.

I may not fly, but I, Emmett McCarty, am Superman!

Just after the Doctor leaves the room, before the door can swing shut, I dart in.

My eyes flicker around the room, taking in the sight of the poor dying man, breathing his last breaths.

I rush over, placing my hands on either side of his face, and push my energy to him.

The cuts and aberrations on his face heal before my eyes, the heart beat on the monitor becoming stronger.

But I'm running out of breath. Already I'm tired.

I sigh.

I wasn't ready. I'm not strong enough.

I let go. Stand by his side. Start to leave. Stand still.

And his heart gives out.

A single tear trickles down my face.

I'm Rosalie Hale.

And I've learnt that you can't, no matter how much you try, heal everything.

I watched it unfold.

Just like it did last night. Just like it did when I slept through History.

Just like I know it would.

I had warned her.

Over and over.

But every warning went unanswered. Ignored. None of them would listen.

I frown, moving closer to the overturned car, closer to the paramedics.

"Unstable condition... brain damage..."

She'll die.

On the way to the hospital.

I hope she won't.

I know she will.

I sigh once more as I mover back towards my car.

I could have stopped this.

But I knew, from experience, that even if I had stopped it this time, if I had prevented her death, it would have happened anyway.

Another time. Another place. Another way.

She would have met her early end.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, reopen them and keep walking.

I am Alice Brandon.

You don't want to meet me.

I'll know how you die.