Prologue.

I've been able to see ghosts for as long as I can remember.

They come in different forms with different tasks for me, and they don't leave because nobody else can see them.

I remember from a young age being particularly different from the other children.

I'd see them playing around in the park with their dog or family or even friend, playing frisbee, getting ice cream or getting a foot deep in sand in the sandbox.

And there was me.

Blake Quinn, an eight year old.. who... spoke with ghosts.

I tried many times to tell my mother, but she didn't believe me at first.

Teachers were all the same, until I was labelled the lonely kid with platinum hair with an overactive imagination.

I leaned to grow with this title, and at first it was seeing a ghost next to your teacher in class while they gave lessons, but it became my norm, my reality.

I grew up and into my strange phenomena, it became a part of life, a part of my soul.

I didn't make any friends, or meet anyone with my strange condition.

They all thought maybe I was a schizophrenic, or a kid with a troubled childhood.

But I was normal.

Just normal enough to see ghosts.

My mother was my saviour and angel, and although at first she didn't even want to understand what I had been saying, she slowly started to believe me.

But for the price of that, it started chipping away at her morality.

As I grew up I watched her sanity slip away bit by bit until one day, my mother, Dazielle Quinn, one of the greatest doctors in my town was admitted to the psych ward.

I rarely got to see her after that.

Eventually I passed through high school, and elementary, my father was unheard of from the very beginning since I could remember, and so there was no use going to that department.

I also had no siblings who I could share my troubles with so I dealt with all of my worries thoughts alone.

Nothing much had changed, but this is where my story begins...