"This is not a blessing- this is a curse. You will grow stronger each passing day, until you can no longer control your power. And the worst part? You and your descendants will never be able to utter a word about it. A silent, killing curse- blighting generation after generation."
800 years later-
It started with me crushing an apple with my bare hand when I was three. Now as an adult I can lift up an entire city bus with a single hand. That may sound great…. but's it not.
It's really not.
Before I begin the story, I should tell you something. I'm the strongest person- not woman, person- on earth. For centuries, all the women on my mom's side of the family have been born with this incredible power. But it's not a good thing- oh no. This "gift" is the reason why no woman on my maternal side has lived pasted the age of forty. We have short lives; very short lives.
But why, you may ask? Good question. We're strong, yes- but controlling our strength is a whole other ballgame. It's akin to running at full speed only to come to a complete stop in a second flat; that's the only way I can think to describe it. If I'm paying attention, it's fine; no running-then-stopping scenario. Contrary to what superheroes teach us, super strength doesn't work like Bob from the Incredibles or the Hulk; at least for me. No, I don't have to worry about accidently crushing a kitten while petting it or hugging someone to death. So long as I pay attention, it's ok… But the moment my mind diverges, even for a second, it becomes incredibly painful to regain full control. My muscles tense up and I can practically feel my fibres ripping themselves apart. That's what likely killed my mother, grandmother, etc. Each day our power increases and our minds can't keep up. Eventually our bodies just tear themselves apart from the inside out…. My future… Yippy.
And the worst part, I can't tell anyone. 'But Ana," I hear you say. 'You know English; just open your mouth and say "I'm crazy strong".' Ha, no! Believe me, if it were that easy, my great, great, great, great, great grandmas, aunts, or female cousins would have said- or wrote- something I'm sure. When I say it can't be done, it can't be done- regardless how well I comprehend the English language…... although like more than ninety-nine percent of my maternal family spoke German throughout history. Hmmmmm, maybe this needs further explanation.
It's like trying to talk in Latin on the spot when you don't know Latin; it's simply impossible. I know what I want idea I want to convey in my mind, but my mouth can't come up with the words. It's the strangest thing; the best way I can think to describe it is someone telling you to think "I love cats"- easy enough. But then they ask you to say that sentence in Ancient Greek or something. There's that disconnect between your mouth and your mind. Grandpa said its part of the family curse; if there even is a curse. But then again, there must be; both my superhuman strength and inability to talk about it has to come from somewhere. I'd like to think I'm too rational to believe in things like mystical curses, but literally nothing else seems plausible. This has to come from somewhere, I gazed at the palm of my hand- which by the way, looked like an ordinary, plain hand. Yeah, it has to come from somewhere….
Now, despite what you may think, this isn't a tale about me becoming a superhero or something like that. Nor is this some tragedy where I die young at the end. No, my story has a surprisingly happy ending! This is the story about how I went from the strongest nobody in the world, to Mrs. Christian Grey.
Spoiler alert: I became the first woman in eight hundred years to live past the age of forty.