Angel of Mine
Authors: Jessica Louise
Angel of Mine © 2013 Jessica Louise
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, Jessica Louise @
[email protected]
.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events of persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Cover –
B Design.
Editing –
Katie Mac Indie Express: Katie Mac and Stephanie Harper Mulford.
Formatting –
Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats.
Disclaimer -
This book is set in Australia with Australian characters. It often uses Australian terms and is written in Australian English.
Manda,
This is for you girl.
Thank you for always being there for me. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend.
Love you to pieces xoxo
Sitting in my room, cross-legged in the middle of my bed, I write random thoughts in my journal. The softness of my mink blanket wraps around me, making me feel safe from the turmoil within. Scents of lavender from the oil burner drift by helping to soothe me. The words I am unable to share with any other person pour out of me and onto the paper.
Hopelessly alone.
Suffocating silence.
Loveless.
Unhappy.
Numb.
Why do I sit here, day after day,
Night after night,
Lump in my throat,
Dreaming,
Hoping,
Forever hoping?
I have this incredible longing, an unfulfilled desire, to go explore what is out in the world. Heck, I would even settle to be able to wander out in my own neighbourhood.
I understand why Mum thinks it’s safest if I stay home. I honestly do, but I can’t remain hidden away forever. At some point, I’m going to have to be able to look after myself. I’m older now, wiser. Surely, I could resist temptation when I’m out in the world, couldn’t I? Whom am I kidding? I certainly could not resist it.
13 years earlier...
Mummy brought me to the park so I could play with James. She is talking to James’ mummy while we are on the swings.
James is older than I am, and he can go extremely high. “You have to swing your legs real big, up and down,” he explains to me. I can feel the wind rush against my face as he moves. He goes up, up, up, and then falls off, and I hear a loud
crunch
.
Both our mummies run over as James starts screaming. Giant tears are running down his face. They try to make him better by kneeling next to him and speaking softly, but it doesn’t work.
I don’t want James to be hurt. Maybe if I give him the lollipop in my pocket he will be okay. Lollipops always make me feel better.
I peek around Mummy’s legs at James. His arm looks strange. I reach out to touch it, wishing very hard that I could make his owie go away. Mummy tries to block me, but when James stops crying, she lets me pass.
My hands have a strange light coming off them. They heat up and it’s as if an invisible rope pulls them towards him.
Now my arm feels funny. No, it hurts! “Oww, Mummy, oww,” I scream in pain, “Oww!”
We quickly learned that I always felt compelled to relieve the pain of others. We also found out that I was able to do so simply by touching those who are sick or injured and wishing them better. It sounds too good to be true, right? Wrong. Every single time I help someone, his or her troubles transfer to me. I have never found a way to avoid it.
That day in the park, along with many similar instances after, left Mum unable to explain to onlookers what had occurred. A few were frightened, but mostly they just wanted to tell others about the
“astonishing phenomenon”
they had just witnessed. They immediately started pulling out their phones to spread the word to the world, causing a scene of utter chaos.
Within moments, we would flee, abruptly upturning our lives again and again. If needed, we would make a brief stop at the emergency ward and then would frantically pack our essential items, flinging them by the armfuls into our worn leather suitcases and run.
Mum is terrified of me becoming a government science experiment. The anxiety practically radiates off her. She has begged me to stop. Naturally, she cannot stand to see me relentlessly inflicting harm on myself. I have to be physically refrained from going to someone’s aid though. I believe the pull to help others is part of my ability, something within me that is out of my control. I was born to do this, I want to do this, and I can handle the pain. I will live; I am used to it now. It is such a gratifying feeling to be able to take away someone else’s pain for them. To be honest, I am somewhat addicted.
After years of running, Mum constantly having to find a new job in another town, and pulling me out of countless schools, she decided it was safer if I got my education at home. I left the house as seldom as possible.
So here I am, secluded from the world, in my room, writing in my journal. I have no friends to share all these thoughts with.
My phone beeps pulling me from my memories.
Mum- I will be home in 30 minutes. Would like to have a chat about something during dinner. Love you xoxo
I inwardly groan and roll my eyes in typical teenager fashion, even though I am by no means a normal teenager. I collapse backwards on my bed with a loud thud.
The same old lecture again. Great, I look forward to it
. I realize heavy sarcasm isn’t an endearing quality, but I have to act like the average teenager whenever I get the chance.
