My name is Stella Grace. My parents gave me this name because they thought I would be the light of there lives. They could not have been more wrong.

My parent's names were Crystel and Jack Grace. They didn't have much but they were happy. Every day they had fun working together, eating together, being together, and they became even happier when they finally had a child in their lives.

After I was born my parents lost everything. The first 3 years weren't so bad, they owned and ran a small florist shop at the edge of town. It was a 2 story house/store with the first floor being the shop and we lived on the second floor.

At first business just went down, they simply thought they were in a slump or that another shop opened near by and that things would go back to normal soon.

On my 4th birthday, however, came the first lawsuit. I don't remember much from back then but I do remember it was a false claim, and it almost crushed my parents business.

Customers stopped coming, unless they didn't know anything about us, and the ones who filed that claim kept coming back to harass my parents. To this day I do not know why they did such a thing or even what the claim was, but it nearly destroyed my parents.

They soon filled for bankruptcy.

I was 5 when my parents were preparing to shut down the store, and everything changed on my 6th birthday.

As my parents were preparing my 6th birthday party at home, my neighbor was asked to bring me home from pre-school. She was a kind old lady in her 60s who gave me some of her oranges that grew on her tree.

Thinking back, it would have been better if she didn't.

When I opened the door expecting my parents to be holding a big cake and lots of presents, what I found was blood.

A LOT of blood.

My parents were covered in blood that just kept flowing. My mom was right in front of me, she was sitting by the door with her eyes open and a few holes in her chest that just kept bleeding. My dad was face down in front of the stairs with a pool of blood under him.

The neighbor lady screamed behind me. I didn't understand what was going on but I knew blood was bad, it meant my parents were hurt. Before I could even ask them if they were ok I heard something by the stairs.

I looked up to see a man in black. He had a gun in one hand and a sack in the other. Our eyes met, I will never forget those strange yellow eyes. It was yellow where it was supposed to be white, and the iris was dark blue. I was told later that the condition was from some genetic disease but I didn't care about that, back then I just wanted to understand why my parents were gone.

While I thought about his eyes, why his face was covered, was he the one that hurt my parents, and why he has a sack and a gun, he shot at us. One bullet grazed by my head and over the fallen neighbor lady behind me. The other went through my arm and into the neighbor lady's knee. When he realized he didn't have any more bullets, he ran through the back door and left.

I ran crying to my parents asking if they were ok, but they didn't respond. I thought they might be sleeping so I started asking them to wake up, but they didn't move. I started shaking my mom, crying and screaming, begging them to wake up.

I heard someone crying and talking behind me but I didn't care about that, I just wanted my parents to wake up.

They didn't.

3 years later I was living in an orphanage. I was alone for the most part, I didn't want anything to do with the others and they wanted nothing to do with me.

Everone noticed that being around me was "scary." At first, they wanted to play with me but they would trip and get small cuts or scrapes, if they talked to me for more than an hour they would fall sick for a day, if they ate next to me they would cough and choke, so they started to just stay away.

They called me cursed and I didn't disagree. It may have been just kids being mean but I was much more aware of my surroundings now. When I thought back, my parents and friends were the same. I was the same.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Even if I did nothing and just stayed in bed something would come flying at me or fall on me for no reason at all.

The orphanage manager was kind though, she came to see me whenever she had time. She gave me extra to eat at lunch, she patched me up whenever I got hurt, she hugged me whenever I cried. She was so nice I couldn't help but get close to her.

That was a mistake.

She started getting sick or hurt often enough to notice. She didn't want us in the orphanage to worry so we didn't know much of what was going on but we knew it was something. There were fewer snacks and miss manager was getting skinnier. Even though she was in her 40s she started having grey hair.

When I was 10 she just disappeared. No one knew what happened to her for 5 years when she was found to have been tortured and killed along with 6 other women in a serial murder case. She was said to have been the first and was used to test which method was most effective for the most pain.

After that, the new manager was abusive and money-grubbing, he was only arrested after I left the orphanage.

We never got new cloths, we were told to beg in the streets until we had 100$ a day or we would sleep outside. It didn't matter the method, if you got 100$ you could sleep inside today, if you got 200$ you could sleep inside for 2 days.

It also didn't matter the time of year, so long as we didn't die, no one cared.

We only got 2 meals a day, breakfast and dinner. If we went to school we get lunch, and it tasted better and was more filling than at the orphanage.

If we did something he didn't like we would get the stick. If we made to much noise we would get the stick. If he was drunk we would get the stick. If he didn't like your face he would get the stick.

I never got enough money, or it would be stolen by the others. I never got food at school because they were always sold out. At least I wasn't bullied, everyone stayed away because of the rumors of me being cursed.

I got good enough grades that the teachers didn't bother me, but not good enough for them to care.

4 years passed.

When I was 14 I was confessed to. I told him he would die to my curse like everyone else if he did and he said he didn't care.

He was Cain Hopper. He followed me everywhere trying to talk to me while I tried to ignore him. I wanted to open up but I tried to keep him away.

I started to like him, he became covered in scrapes and bruises but he kept coming back. He said it didn't hurt but I knew it did, I had them too after all.

For a month he was fine so we started to become friends, I was starting to think I wasn't cursed, that maybe my luck was starting to turn around. So we started to talk more often, he even gave me half his food at lunch.

We talked for hours about what job makes the most, which game was the most fun to play, who between us has better grades. It was nothing special but to me, it was enough.

We started hanging out more often, he found me a job so I could sleep inside at night.

"A girl shouldn't be outside at night that's dangerous!!! I should go tell that manager what happens to bad guys like him."

He tried to rush off when I told him about the manager's abuse but I hurridly stopped him.

"You going will only make things worse, if he finds out I told you..."

"Fine, but at least let me tell the police."

"NO! If he gets questioned by anyone he takes out the stick and... I won't put the others through that!"

"But..."

"..."

When we were eating lunch together at school a few days later he suddenly just collapsed. I screamed for someone, anyone, to call an ambulance.

Once again I was met with despair.

A month later and he still wasn't in class so I went to visit him. I found out he was in a coma and unlikely to wake up ever again. He suddenly had a brain hemorrhage. 

When I finally saw him I realized my sight was blurry. I was crying again. I started apologizing, again and again, once more begging him to wake up.

Before I noticed his heart had stopped beating and doctors and nurses had rushed into the room. A nurse was pushing me out while Cains mom was screaming about this being my fault, about how she should have never let me in here.

She was right. I shouldn't have gotten close, it was all my fault, I am a curse.

He died.

I ran from everything, the orphanage, school, anyone who once new me, EVERYTHING.

I couldn't take it anymore. Everyone I care about gets hurt and dies. Everyone who cares about me ends up the same.

For 2 years I lived on the streets, I lived on handouts and slept in parks. So long as I was moving, even if some got hurt from helping me it wasn't much more than a small burn or scratch.

I was 16, I think. I wasn't sure anymore because I only paid attention to what year it was. When you live on the streets the only things that matter for time was when to go to the soup kitchen.

That was when it happened.

It was cold and I hadn't eaten for days. Some gang members found me and wanted me to "work" for them. I refused so they followed me everywhere trying to get me alone. If I hadn't already lived out here for 2 years they might have succeded.

They waited at each of the places people on the street get handouts for food in this area or paid people who lived on the street to tell them if they see me.

So I stayed in places where people pass by frequently. I wandered near a market on the edge of town and soon realized I was across the street from my old home. The people who now owned the flower shop were a happy couple with a young daughter.

I looked back on my life, recalling everyone I've met, everyone I loved, everyone I hurt...

Before I knew it I was crying. I remembered those days like they were yesterday, even those happy days from before I was 6.

I looked to the sky, and asked anyone who was listening, "Why. What did they do wrong..."

The young girl came over from across the street,

"Mama said you might be hungry. She said to give you this."

She holds out some bread. With tears in my eyes, I reply,

"Thank you, be careful crossing the road, ok?"

"Ok!" and she runs back to her mom as fast as she can... without checking for cars.

"STUPID GIRL!!!"

A sports car is rushing towards that STUPID girl who STUPIDLY ignored my warning.

I chased after her and barely managed to push her away before the car arrived.

The only thought I had was, "At least no one else will die because of me."

Then everything went black.