Apparently, my family were a little snobby a few hundred years ago. There's an old story about my great-great . . . whatever grandfather. He was going to marry a girl named Emily. She was a servant in his house. The family mocked him for suggesting to marry someone as poor as Emily. My grandfather 'came to his senses' and left Emily for some rich girl. He also fired Emily, and she was left with no home, no money and no fiancée.
I guessed that's why she stabbed herself. Her mother was a witch, apparently. And she was pissed. She put a curse on the family. All she said was that one of my grandfather's descendants would feel the pain and rejection that Emily had felt. I understand why she was so angry. I would've been too. I would've done the same thing. But I have to say that the curse was pretty harsh all the same.
If that certain descendant touched anyone, bare skin to bare skin, it caused pain. Even shaking hands with that certain descendant would cause the second person to scream in agony. And that wasn't all. With that touch, the descendant saw right into the second person's mind. Maybe that was what caused the pain. I don't know, I just know that they saw a terrible memory, or a good one, or even a flash of thought as they felt the pain flow through their bodies like fire.
How do I know all this? I thought it was pretty obvious.
How would you feel if your mother was afraid to touch you? If I woke up in the middle of the night crying because of a nightmare, she wouldn't comfort me until she had gloves on. It was like I was some diseased thing that she wanted to avoid.
That was when I was smaller. It's still exactly the same. I'm seventeen now, and nothing's changed. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it still breaks my heart every time she looks at me like she's about to burst into tears. Like she'd give anything to have a normal son.
My parents even faked my death. Only their closest friends know about me. They kept me inside the house for seventeen years. The only time I ever stepped outside the door was the time when I was even, and I saw some other kids playing out in the street I wanted to join them so, so much.
I got halfway down the driveway before my mom caught me. Not that I would've made it much further. My parents have always been rich; so it's a big house, with a huge back garden, and a tall front gate. The rest of the house is surrounded by a tall stone wall.
It's like a prison. I'm the only prisoner.
Sometimes I would sit at one of the windows at the back of the house and just look out into the garden. At the very end of it, there was a tall back gate. The city was pretty much directly on the other side. Freedom.
But I guess that's too much to hope for.
Prologue. Next chapter you're actually gonna find out who this is, LOL! Please review!