[ WP ] A person 's eye colour correlates to what superpower they have , activated at age 18 . You are the first person to be born with totally black eyes .

In the time before, no one knew the significance of such things. Green, blue, hazel, brown… what did it matter? No one paid any mind, any attention whatsoever. That was before me. 
 
 My mom tells the story of the doctor who caught me as I slipped from between her legs. A normal birth, despite being breech—not a normal child. In that moment, the catching moment, there was silence. No cry from my lips, no jubilant exclamation from the doctor who attended me. Only the pulsing bleeps of the machine that measured my mother ’ s heartbeat, and the ticking of the wall clock over the door. She never saw his mouth behind the surgeon ’ s mask, but the words that emanated from it and the tone in which he said them left her deeply unsettled. 
 
 “ We must hand your child over to the attending physician. She needs to be examined. ” 
 
 “ Examined for what? ” 
 
 “ She has a condition. I… it ’ s not something I ’ ve seen before. ” 
 
 “ What condition? What ’ s wrong with my daughter? ” 
 
 He didn ’ t respond, but turned and left the room quickly, letting the swinging door of the operating room open and close in wide arcs behind him. 
 
 She begged the nurse standing at her bedside for more information. My mom remembers her clearly, as if she were standing right in front of her today: jet black hair pulled away from her face, almond-shaped eyes the color of mud, tanned olive skin, and a birthmark above her right eyebrow. The woman, Angeline, told her, “ Your child… she has black eyes. You ’ re not safe here. You must leave now. ” 
 
 She cleaned my mother up, helped her from her hospital bed, dressed her, and swaddled me. Angeline gave my mother a pair of sunglasses to wear as they inched through the hallway, my mother still enduring great pain from giving birth just moments before. It took nearly 40 minutes for them to travel to the stairwell, down six flights of stairs, and out the back door into the weak afternoon sun, where Angeline had a cab waiting. 
 
 Once my mother and I were safely inside, she told her, “ Go home and pack your bags. Take no more than 15 minutes, and never come back to this town. Keep your daughter hidden until she is old enough to protect herself. ” My mother, terrified and exhausted, could only nod. 
 
 That is the beginning of our story. 
 
 I am hunted by the few people who know about me. I wear blue contacts to disguise my identity. My mother and I have moved 24 times to prevent them from following us. We don ’ t even know who they are, but they are after us. And until we know what they want, we will keep running. 
 
 Today is my 17th birthday. I have exactly one year until I find out who I really am.
