I must admit to begin with I have always been a bit different ever since I was born. People don’t really remember what age they became aware of their self, and neither do I. When I first became aware I was blind, immobile and scared. I didn’t feel the need to breathe or open my eyes, simply floating in the warmness surrounding me content for the time being. I had no needs nor wants, I was perfectly content simply existing there. Hours or perhaps months later something changed, the warmth began to fade. Starting very slowly I felt the warmth around me draining away and for the first time I felt wanting. Wanting for the warmth to stay around me but regardless of my wordless pleas the warmth faded away to a terrible cold. Now the cold had taken the place of the warmth and it held me there in it’s deadly grasp. It was then that I heard for the first time, a terrible high pitch wailing assaulted my ears for some time before that too faded away to nothing. Soon I felt the cold draining away from around me and I heard frantic sounds from above. It was the I saw for the first time in my life, a terrible bright light pierced through my eyelids and brought me pain. I felt hands reaching around me bringing me toward the light. That was the first time I knew fear, the cold around me, the terrible sounds in my ears, the bright burning light assaulting my unopened eyes. The pain was unbearable and beyond the pain I felt the most dreadful of all fears, the fear of the unknown. Here my existence ended and my life began as I cried the cry of the newborn. I felt the hands around me moving and then the pain stopped. The cold was once again replaced by warmth. The terrible sounds faded to a diminished lull. The terrible bright light dimmed to a much more bearable level. I stopped crying then and felt the weight of the world pressing me down, feeling tired beyond mere words I fell asleep. On that night of tragedy Samantha Blackhill breathed her first. 

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.