The Modern Oracle pt. 0 (Prologue)
I used to know -- no, think -- I was a normal girl. I think maybe deep down, I knew I wasn't normal the whole time, but now it's become obvious. Either I was crazy, or I really wasn't average.
I believe it all started a long long, long time ago. A time even I can't remember. They (the orphanage staff) say I can't because I was traumatized, but I don't know now. When I was just a kid, I lived with a family. My family. But I know nothing about them. No one does. They found me sitting in a pasture in London, with burns and an empty look in my pale silver eyes.
My black hair tied in knots and scorched in some places. No one knew who I was. I didn't know. It was like I had started all over. Like someone had replaced a burned out memory chip with a new empty one. My body knew how to work, but my mind, my feelings, my soul, was gone. Restarted.
The kind people who fond me turned me over to an orphanage. The Rozele Home of the Children. What a fake name. There was nothing homey about it. They renamed me Ira Rozele. (Rozele were all the orphans last names until they were either adopted, left the home, married, or died) I grew up there for five whole years. Five years did I live in a nightmare. The education was terrible. The children evil brats, though I didn't know if I myself was like them at all.
In my fifth year, an American family came over seas in their search for a child. Don't ask me why. I don't know. Recently, though, I've began to think it was fate. They came and whisked me off to their home in the states.
Their house was nice. They were kind people too, but somewhere inside I knew it couldn't last. The friends, my own room, my own school, my own place in life. But that couldn't last. Nothing normal can. Not for me.
