We were poor from the start, but not because we didn't have money. We were poor because my father was an alcoholic with an angry personality and a taste for beating us, while my mother took prescription drugs to reach what she called "A higher state." She did this while pregnant with my brother and I, likely resulting in my abilities.
I was four when my father lost his job. He punched a co-worker in the face over an argument about sports, the drop in income and resulting drop in quality of life changed everything. He beat us more frequently, my mother came home less but most importantly, I could see things, the future, the past, people who had died. I only spoke to my brother about it at first, explaining this new world I had discovered. He saw it as my imagination or a coping mechanism to the shitty life we lead, I think. When I told him our mother was going to wind up in jail a week before it happened, and it came true, he looked at me different. This mixture of fear and awe.
I tried to use my new skills to make our lives better, with limited successes. Every time I would predict an event in time, or find some new way to supplement our income through my knowledge of the arcane, karma would take it back from us without mercy or compassion. I found us the house my uncle lived it when I asked his shade. It fell to us after I burned his will only he and the lawyer knew of and lied about a conversation we had. I had worked my little girl status with that judge to get the house. In reality, my uncle hated us all, but the judge loved me, so the house went to us.
When my parents died, or rather, when my father killed my mother then himself, on the front lawn of my dead uncles house, I understood how it worked, the worse my life, the less connected I became to the world around me, the more I came to have power over it. It was exhilarating. I was lost in this world, watching the shades of my parents continue to argue, even in death, as the police came to take us away. I forgot which world was real when my fathers ghost tried to punch my mothers and his hand whooshed through her. I laughed.
I was sentenced to psychological evaluation at the same time I was put into the foster system. I realized I couldn't help myself by making my life easier, so I started making it worse.
I wondered if being split from my brother would magnify my powers at all, and received my negative answer a couple months later, this was a little upsetting for me, but the group home I was in was dreadful, I sold all of my things then ensured the money was stolen. I had literally nothing.
I could read minds better, though.
I almost didn't even fight the first time I was raped. because I knew that would help develop my powers.
I was the next step in human evolution.
My soul was black, and I had earned a reputation with the other kids In the group home for it. The rapes stopped when I committed my first murder. The psychological evaluation returned, and this time I couldn't hide what I was entirely. A freak, that's what the nurses called me when they were out of earshot, but my brother had killed himself, thankfully, so I was aware of my surroundings up to half a mile away now, it was neat. I could even control people to a mild extent.
They attempted some radical therapy, completely unsanctioned, and I became telekinetic.
When I had one of the nurses slit her wrists in front of the entire staff, I stayed in control as her heart came to a stop. It was a neat trick bringing her back to life after they pronounced her dead. I had her bandage the no longer bleeding wounds, clean up the blood, and grab her purse before I let the lifeless body fall to the ground. I made sure she looked into the eyes of every single member who participated in the therapy.
They shut down that mental hospital when all of the staff refused to come back to work.
Most of the non-violent patients were sent to hospitals, but those with similar backgrounds were released into prisons. It was a mild setback for me to be put into solitary confinement under constant supervision through cctv, but by now my powers were beyond comprehension or explanation. The only thing tying me to this life, was the beat of my heart.
I wondered what would happen if I stopped that?
I was the pinnacle of human evolution, the finest example of what it was possible to become. I had control over the dead, knowledge of the future, understanding in the present, and I was excited to see what else I could become.
I spoke with my psychologist about all of this, and after a brief demonstration of my abilities to ensure he believed me and some manipulation of his mind, I orchestrated my own death weeks in advance.
There has not been such a mob since Salem. No one had ever been feared as much as me, I had become the real life monster stories were told about. Film crews, monster hunters, mystics, cynics and believers alike showed up at the facility I was being held in. I worked them into a frenzy when I had a cop kill himself on the front steps as I looked through the glass. They ran at first, then they came back calling for my life. There were governmental agents who had been sent to ensure of my demise, preachers brandished their holy texts, and the mob shouted for my end.
Though, when I allowed my gaze to rest on a single individual, he or she would shudder in fear. They saw it in my eyes. The surety. The excitement.
Too late, they realized they were doing what I wanted. Too late, they recognized my strengths.
As my blood pooled around me, the universe opened its doors. Death came slowly, and I tested my new limits, only to discover I had none. My eyes went black, but I had never seen more clearly.
(Based on this Story Jam)
Fruit from this Jam:
Descent by Benjamin
pari libra by Envy
"They do not use anaesthetic." by Jan Flisek-Boyle
Morning Cereal by H.L.W.
The Unexpected by appylord57
Past Life by Vivian Peng
Out of Season by RichardLakin
The ethics of genocide by kouq
Them. by ustink
Dangerous Path by Zita Barlai
the disease by
Duck...Duck...Goose by Ameya
Ashes to Ashes by Jess Fechner
Cardinal by a-bigler