My mother once told me that I had a sacred gift when I was young, the sight of god as she called it and she said I was very fortunate and lucky to have uniquely beautiful silver colored eyes and the silky black hair that came with a tint of blue, and the retched gift that she told me was magnificent but she was wrong it was a curse, my curse. The many people that lived their everyday life in the same location as I always told me that I was of a demonic race, and my mother explained that my father was tainted with darkness and was unleashed through his powers. They always feared me and said it was because I was different; spreading rumors of me being a neglected child of a crazy mother and a father that left us for dead, I was never able to socialize with mortals of my own age. It wasn't till I was five when I met my first friend or my so-called childhood love. Her name was Angel and she was the one who saved me from a turn of fate that sent my life on a new course for the better, or worse. It was then misfortune struck with the death of my mother and the authorities claimed it to be a case of heart failure but I knew different. It was a demonic creature that was engulfed in black shadowy flames I saw walking away from my mother's dead body. My mother was the only living person that knew of my secret, the eyesight to see spirits but only in the form of black and white, and it was then when Angel revealed to me that she wasn't a mortal like all the rest, but a spirit. I was placed within the care of the state orphanage and my life was a living hell from then on. The many children that lived within its walls treated me like an outsider, and the only person who would come to visit me was Angle, she was with me side by side. As I grew older with every passing year I had yet to be granted the respect I wanted by the other people that lived with me at the orphanage. At the age of 15 they finally allowed me to leave my cell walls that kept me in since the death of my mother; I could attend school once again and no longer be home schooled. Although my memories faded within the ten years of living at the orphanage, the memory of my mothers death was still fresh in my mind but the name she had always called me slipped away as time went on. I have vague memories of my mother calling me Silver and I have decided that it is what I shall be known as.