As I lay down there half dead and completely unaware of how much time has passed, I could not help but wonder if my gift was really a gift or a curse.
Growing up as a little girl, my parents were always there for me, they called me 'the savior'
They were always showing and telling me how great and wonderful my vision gift is; I can see when the end of anyone around me is near, once I do, an unresistible magnetic force sweeps me off my feet, the type that pulls me towards the person until the D-day.
Because of this, people mistook my presence for the cause of their misfortune, as I tried to protect them with numerous warnings which they don't listen to, most times.
Right now, I could only pray that someone, or anyone would care enough to ask of my whereabout once they noticed my absence.
Deep down I know no one would, I mean no Mixed-blood would miss me.
To them, I am the bearer of misfortune, a death bell and if anything, they'd be glad I am gone.
Fresh tears trickled down my eyes a
