Prologue
My name is Aubria, ’Bria for short, and I’ve been gifted for as long as I can remember. My gifts are subtle, and easy to conceal, or at least, they are now. When I was little and didn’t understand that not everyone can see spirits, or talk to their pets, it was hard. People were either scared of me, or they seemed to think that I was some kind of freak...someone to be teased and tormented. It wasn’t easy being a gifted child.
My parents didn’t even know what to do with me. There wasn’t a gifted bone in either of their bodies. My dad seemed to want to punish it out of me, obviously viewing my talents as disciplinary problems. My mom...I think she was just afraid of me. She always looked at me like she was worried that I was going to do something to hurt her. If she’d only taken the time to understand what I could do, she would have known that I wasn’t telekinetic, or super strong, or anything like that. I was just a little girl who was just a little more than most kids...It used to make me sadder than it does now. Now, I mostly just don’t think about my parents.
When I was 8, they shipped me off to a boarding school in France. Let me just tell you, straight up, don’t listen to anyone who tells you that nuns are sweet. At least, not the ones I met while I grew up in what amounted to a convent. It was actually an ok place to be a kid, though, angry nuns aside. I got a pretty solid education, learned french, and, above all, learned not to let anyone else in on my little secret.
Once I got the hang of that, my life was basically normal. It never stopped hurting that my parents didn’t even visit me, but now that I’m 21 and have been out in the world, having been discharged from the boarding school at age 18, that matters less. They didn’t know how to handle me. Nobody did. Hell, I didn’t know how to handle myself, sometimes...I was constantly plagued with questions. Was I the only one? I’d never met anyone who could do what I could. I’d never met anyone who could do anything...never anyone with gifts like mine. It was a lonely feeling, but it was made less so by my fluffy black puppy, Georgie. I’d found him nosing through a trash heap in the alleyway behind the apartment I was renting, about three months ago. He was raggedy and emaciated, and calling out for help.
He’d been afraid of me at first, having had nothing but bad experiences from the cruel humans who’d thrown him in the alley in a bag, hoping that he would die, or not caring if he did. He’d managed to chew his way out, and had run from me when I’d approached him. It wasn’t until I used my gift to introduce myself, and let him know that I wanted to help, that he’d come out and let me pet him. He was much more handsome now that I’d bathed him and he’d gotten a hair cut, and I was pleased that he liked the jingly collar I’d gotten him, proclaiming to the world that he was, indeed, a stud muffin. He was my soul companion in life, and I loved him dearly.
Well, he was my only living companion. I also frequently visited with a spirit named Jimin. He was adorable, and had been a very attractive vocalist and performer when he’d been alive. He wouldn’t go into the details of how he’d died...I wondered sometimes if he even remembered his death, but he was constantly popping in to my apartment. He would just sit down and watch TV with me, making funny comments and making me laugh. He was a good friend, and I hoped that he crossed over at some point. He was frequently frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t seem to let this mortal plane go...I’d found that, with other spirits I’d known, it was usually because something traumatic had happened, and they still needed to deal with it. This didn’t help my poor sweet Jiminie, however, since he was fuzzy on the details of how he’d gone out.
This was actually the second apartment I had rented. I’d been worried that I wouldn’t see Jimin anymore, when I moved to this new place, but he’d popped in, sitting next to me on the couch, like usual, the first night in this place. It had been cozy, and I’d made popcorn that I’d eaten, and he’d pretended to eat, making me giggle when he looked fake surprised that the kernels fell through him, onto the couch, when he popped them in his mouth. Sometimes he would sing me to sleep. His voice was so beautiful that it moved me and brought me to tears, sometimes. Shortly after meeting him, I’d gone to the store and purchased every album he’d ever made for this very same reason.
So this was my life, and I don’t mind saying that it was pretty damn good. I was gifted.
