This word creates a storm in my brain, bringing back thought-provoking stories and terrible memories that begin before I was even born. Some people say that powers are a blessing and a curse, but if you have powers like mine, it's only a curse.
I've gotten visions that date back all the way to the beginning of my family, the voyage to America, the curse that was put on my family, on me. Visions of my mother's side and my father's side of the family, of my birth, of the witch who cursed me. Visions of the future, of me putting my entire family in danger, of my death. Memories and visions of my early years, trying to control my powers and failing miserably. Memories of me attempting to make friends and then scaring them off. Memories of the school for gifted children and memories of what it was like in the insane asylum.
Memories of the deaths I have caused.
When I was born, my great-grandfather was still alive and well. But as I developed my powers he grew unhealthy, and one swift hand motion directly at his heart and he was gone.
Memories of love and memories of war.
But all in all, my powers were involved in each and every one of these memories and visions. The awful memories and visions keep flooding back, one by one, like a vicious storm, at the oddest of times, and they become longer and more frequent as I get older.
My power is the most unique and most monstrous of all: bloodbending.
A bloodbender is created when a waterbender or a stormcreator meets a hypnotist or a deathtoucher and they fall in love and have a kid. Which I have no idea why anyone would fall in love with a deathtoucher. Maybe the deathtouchers rape the hypnotists or waterbenders, except then it would be impossible for them to become pregnant. Deathtouchers’ powers are exactly what their names are: they kill people with a single touch. At least I'm not a deathtoucher.
My powers allow me to control people with my hand, like a hypnotist combined with a telekinetic, except my power causes me to control people without meaning to if I gesture using my hand, and when I do choose to use it (which isn't often) it causes them pain.
People at my old school called me a “freak”, a “killer”, and a “bitch”, so my mother eventually dropped me out of school and started homeschooling me and keeping me in solitary confinement.
But I escaped, and it was the best and worst decision I've ever made. Here's why.