The Feelings That Were Never Mine

Chapter One

Thursday, April 17th, 2014 (Present Day)

I woke up shivering today. Even though I was piled with three thick blankets, it didn't help much. Because I live in a shed about two hundred yards away from my actual house, it doesn't have the best installation. The shed that I live in is quite similar to a college dorm. With a small bathroom, a desk, a queen sized bed, and a few other pieces of furniture, it has been my bedroom for two years. My father built it a few months after my 15th birthday, after we decided that I had too much pressure considering my ability.

The first time my parents discovered my ability, was on 9/11. That was the day my mom's brother became paralyzed. Ever since I was discovered, they decided it was best that this was kept a secret. So now, 17 years old, I am left with this heavy burden, and no one to talk to about it but them. It's always been impossible to make friends, not that I would want to have any in the first place. Having this curse makes it so difficult to keep my feelings, and others, separate. It's better to avoid other people in general.

I jump out of bed with bare feet and run to my closet, slipping on a t shirt and a flannel with dark blue jeans. I slip on a pair of Chuck Taylors and open my door, getting slapped with a gust of chilled wind. April mornings are always extra cold where I live. My town, Kettering, is what you might call privileged, or more high class, at least that's what I call it. The general population have well paying jobs ranging from realtors, to E.R surgeons, which is what my dad is.

My actual house has four bedrooms and bathrooms, with an incredibly large backyard. I never understood why we had so much, considering we were only a family of four. I walk on the stone path in the backyard leading to the back door. When I open the door, my mother is in front of the stove, making scrambled eggs. I feel positive now. My mom is a morning person after all. She turns to look at me when I sit down. "Good morning, dear." she tries to mask her voice with neutrality

"Mom, you know hiding your emotions doesn't change anything. Thanks for the gesture though." I say lightly.

"Right, sorry hon, I forgot." I'm struck with a pang of guilt, but I ignore it. It seems someone is periodically feeling guilty over me, I feel it a lot, even if it's brief.

"It's fine." I eat the eggs she just put in front of me, and wash it down with apple juice. "I don't really mind your cheer anyways." Which is a lie of course. After living with this all my life, it gets old really fast, being unable to feel for myself.

"How was your morning sweetheart?" Mom almost never talks to me or my brother without using a nickname.

"Still cold like it is every morning." I say, getting short. My mood has changed, which means someone else is up, their emotion stronger than moms. My mom can tell too.

We both look to the stairs, seeing dad descend from them. He has a big crease in between his eyebrows, as he brushes down his gray hair with his fingers. He's not angry, but stressed. I've learned the difference between similar emotions. Anger and stress, happiness and bliss, etc.

"Sorry, Connor." is all he says. I nod understandingly, feeling guilt for the second time today. He sits at the island, across from me in his scrubs. Mom sets a plate in front of him silently. The stress starts to get to me, so I take my plate to the sink, mom staring at me sympathetically. "I'm going to my room, tell Corey I say hi. If you need me, I would appreciate you calling first." I say this quickly and get out of that house. Once I'm far enough, I let out a deep breath.

This is how it is everyday. Wake up, go to the house and eat, go back to my room, homeschooling for about five hours, collect phone calls throughout the day, eat, repeat. It is my un-discussed routine.

Three hours into school, I have a crick in my neck and my mom has called me on my cellphone to discuss the greenhouse effect. After we decide that we need to recycle more, mom mentions Corey, my little brother, wants to talk to me about something. I tell her to send him over and we hang up.