My name is Elizabeth Grace, but most of the people I know call me Eli-That-Girl-Who-Thinks-She-Talks-To-Angels, or simply Eli, but the rest is always lingering in the back of their minds. I used to talk to Angels, but that is a foggy memory that I don't truly remember anymore. But the way people stare at me when I walk by them in the halls at the highschool, I know. I know that I don't remember most of my childhood, and that all I know is what people tell me. I used to talk to the Angels, and I didn't make that a secret. But I wish I had. Snickers from the kids you walk by at school or the store, or simply at the park, and the pity and puzzlement in the adults' faces.