The rollercoaster lurched to a stop and I looked around. I had barely noticed the time pass by during the ride. I let go of the steel bar in front of me and wiped my hands against my jeans. I was definetely in a thoughtful mood. I needed to get out of here.
As I climbed out the ride, the assistant looked at me worriedly and asked, "Are you alright? You're quite pale. Is it your first time on the ride?"
I could feel myself pale up now and I smiled at the assistant. "I'm alright...and no it's not my first time. I usually like going on these rides but...I don't know what happened this time. I'll be fine."
He nodded at me, glancing at me a few more times as I walked away. Getting inside the car, I turned the AC on and put a CD in for some music. The soft notes of the piano soothed me as I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth as they came back to me.
After the play had occured, I was scared of myself. I was afraid that I was going to affect more people and hurt them in ways unimaginable. So I isolated myself from my family, staying in my room, locked up from everyone else all the time. They worried...they worried a lot..but it was better than hurting them.
There was this one time, Grandmama came in and consoled me. I didn't need any consolation. I didn't deserve this. I screamed at her, pushed her away from me, did things I'd never done to her before. It seemed to have hurt her more than how my power could've affected her. She always came in, once a day, to console me, and I always did the same thing, push her away...but one time, I completely lost control. Unconciously, I used my power and told her to get lost. "Imagine I was dead, that I was gone. I guess that would make things easier for you, won't it? Just leave me alone."
I didn't realise it...but she really did think I was gone...and she died of a heartattack that same night. My mother passed away in depression because of this. My father returned, blamed me for everything. "You killed the woman I loved, you witch! Get out of my sight!" Everyday he broke into these tantrums, yelled at me, hit me, pushed me away from him; exactly like how I'd done with grandmama. I felt like I'd deserved it. He was right, I killed them...I was a monster.
I continued living with him until one day, the night I turned fifteen, I fled from him. I left the house with the money that belonged to me and started a new life...I didn't need to be like this forever...I could change...but still deep inside...it hurt a lot...remembering that I was the cause of all this.
I really am a monster...