As a child. I always felt strange. Like I was an adult in someone else's body. Like everything was oddly autonomous. I could so clearly read the world as an open book. Like the trees and wind could talk to me. I could run through a field of fallen trees and it was as if the earth itself was telling me where to place my foot.

But this wierd sense of peace wasn't always present. I was temporarily with my mother. And not in some random foster care home. She was always gone. And I had to walk to the intercity elementary school alone. I usually walked with my foster care friends for safety. But not this time. And there were these kids that would find me. And constantly beat on me and berate me. Always up until we reached the front hallway of my school.

It was awful but it was my life. I just bottled it up for a while. But the pain of being alone all the time started to build. Day in and day out of having no one. Getting beaten and harassed by the bullies and my racist teacher.

I remember it so vividly. I was only 8 years old. But I remember something inside me just snapping. And I yell out into my subconscious. It felt like my thoughts were heard around the world. I cried out for help. From anyone. I didn't even know what God or spirits were. But I reached out to anything listening. I just wanted to feel peace for the first time in my life.

And only a couple days later. My mother is waking me up. The rare time she was home. And we walk outside our apartment. And the main bullies apartment was on fire. The flames reaching high into the sky. Somehow only shooting out of their apartment. I was shocked.

The next day I open our door and to my further shock the entire hallway was burnt out. The fire stopped exactly on our door. We were left unscathed.

I later found out that the bully and his family had to move and the beatings subsequently stopped.

I don't know what had heard my cry for help. But even as a kid. I knew deep down that something had answered my call.