Jan. 26th

My name is Aeron, and I'm a mystery.

I have my mom's photographic memory, so I remember the exact looks on my parents' faces when they left me on the doorstep of my grandparents' house twelve years ago.

I have my dad's light hair and striking bone structure, so I draw peoples' gazes wherever I go.

And I have a freaky ability. No - abilities. I think. I'm still trying to figure them all out.

It started when I was seven years old - two years after Mom and Dad abandoned me. I woke up in my bed with a really, really dry throat, so I crept downstairs to get a glass of cranberry juice. For some reason, that's the only thing I can drink without wanting to throw up.

So, when I closed the refrigerator I realized that an eerie light was glowing in the dark. Imagine my surprise when I looked down at myself and saw that I was the source of the light! Obviously, I freaked out. I mean, what kid doesn't pee their pants when they think some sort of aquatic worm has wormed its way into their cranberry juice and has now infected their body?! But I remembered that I couldn't wake my grandparents up, so I kept the screaming at a minimum. Then gradually, I remembered that the same thing had happened to my mom and dad, before they went away. I remember sitting on our living room floor and just staring at them in awe as they seemed to float around, surrounded by different colors of light. My mom's was always red; my dad's was pink. Mine is gold. I'd assumed it would be some sort of reddish, but nope!

Anyway, from that day forward, weird things started happening to me. I would wake up surrounded by flames, or floating near the ceiling in a bubble of water, or with strong winds pounding at my windows when all the trees surrounding our property were completely still. It was like I was being targeted - still am, in fact. And if my parents were still here, they could explain this to me - help me work through it. But instead I'm here alone, hiding my abilities as best I can and lying whenever I don't have any other choice. Like with the fire - playing with matches was the only obvious explanation. But if my parents were here, they would understand.

I see their faces every night, when the whole world is dark and I'm the only one left awake. When I can't go to sleep, I crawl out my window and sit on the roof and stare at the stars until I fall asleep.

I can perfectly recall the day it happened: it was still dark outside, and the world was blanketed in snow. I remember seeing nests in the trees as my parents rushed through the woods surrounding Didi and Beni's house and feeling just like a baby robin curled up in my nest, all snuggled up in a blanketed basket while my parents sprinted along. I remember worried conversation, and my dad constantly tucking in my blankets if he thought I was getting cold. Finally, we reached my grandparent's house, framed against the ridgeline in the cold light that was beginning to filter through the sky. My parents avoided the creaky stairs as they climbed to the back porch. Tears were pouring down my dad's face as they set me outside the door, and my mom touched my cheek one more time before rapping quickly on the sliding glass door, stepping away and pulling my dad with her. Together, snow dusting their features, they sprinted into the woods again. A second later, there was a blinding flash of light. No one ever saw them again, and no one remembers them, except for me.

I have just one picture of my parents that I keep hidden where Didi and Beni and Aunt Amy can't find it. I'm afraid they'd take it away, not knowing what it is.

They're about fifteen or sixteen, and they're standing with a group of friends under a tall, wispy pink-purple tree. On the back of the painting, there's a list of names:

Linh

Tam

Fitz

Biana

Dex

Wylie

Keefe

Sophie

I don't know their names, but I know their faces. I see the young man on the far left every time I look in the mirror; I can tell who my mom is because of how close my dad is standing to her. And on the back it says one more thing:

Havenfield

I've researched that place on the internet for years and looked through every single article and every single search has been a bust. Until last week.

The website references a history museum in San Diego, five hours from here, and I'm going. Tomorrow.