The day I was born, the doctor that delivered me died after stabbing himself in the throat with a surgical tool. That was the first sign.

Within the following week, all of the staff that had anything to do with my birth died or killed themselves one by one. My parents watched it all on the news and became fearful, being the extremely religious people that they are. They started to feel unfounded hatred for one another, have suicidal thoughts out of nowhere, and take violent turns out of the blue. They knew it was me, not even 10 days old yet.

They took me to the priest near our home and requested I be exercised. Insisting that I had brought evil with me when I came into the world. They told the priest about the shadows they saw in the house since they brought me home. Doors opened on their own, things moved without anyone touching them. It was all signs of a classic haunting. The priest refused an exorcism on an 8 day old baby and instead offered to check the house out and cleanse it.

That night, my mother walked into my room to check up on me as I slept in my crib. There stood a man, hooded and tall. He turned to her and told her that he would either take me by force or they would have to hand me over peacefully. Either way, he would take me. There was no reason why, just two options. 

My parents called the priest immediately but he still refused an exorcism. As a desperate last result, my father decided to call the reclusive witch that lived in the apartment downstairs. They begged her to help. So she did. 

That night, she tried every spell in her books to help but the man still remained in the room, watching with a spiteful grin on his face. He taunted the adults as they struggled to protect me.

Just before the dawn, the witch attempted one simple solut