everything i touch dies.

everything i touch dies.

“Nothing happened to me, but I have an opposite Midas touch. Everything I love is quickly wiped away like a speck of dirt. I don’t feel like I’m a ruin, it’s just a part of me. Like someone’s receding hairline, it’s just an annoying part of me not a lot of people want to know.”

published 17 days ago5 reads 5 readers 0 not completed

chapter one.

There’s always some kind of film about little girls who do destructive things. There’s Drew Barrymore, in Firestarter, burning things to the ground with nothing but her own power. There’s Matilda, who uses her powers to defeat physically abusive people with basic harm. We can take a step further and mention Carrie, who’s about 16 or 17 years old, and uses her telekinesis to kill her enemies. Sometimes, destruction is just what keeps misunderstood little girls going.
Little girls like me.
I am Lacey Sylphax, and I destroy things by just existing.
Nothing happened to me, but I have an opposite Midas touch. Everything I love is quickly wiped away like a speck of dirt.
I destroy things just by smiling at them, it doesn’t move things like telekinesis. But whatever it is, ends up in ruins.
Like my parents’s marriage.
When I was about three years old, my mom and I would frequently roughhouse. She would tickle me and I’d giggle and run around the house, wanting her to chase me. It was our little game, we were always safe, until one day I fell on my face.
My mom called an ambulance, and there wasn’t a way to contact my dad. So we went to the bigger hospital, in a big city an hour away, via ambulance.
When my dad came and finally found out, he blamed everything on my mom. He called her a sad excuse of a parent. He told her he didn’t love her anymore because of it.
And my mother, instead of leaving him, blamed me to fix things. She told him I was spinning around, asked to stop multiple times, then tripped on my own feet.
These major accidents and finger pointing would continue until my father was caught in bed with another woman.
When my parents finally divorced, I was about seven years old. And every day after school, my mom would blame it on me. Blamed me for her divorce, blamed me for her debt, blamed me for the hospital bills, so I would lock myself up in my room until I had to eventually come out and have dinner with her.
Dinner was usually a TV dinner. My dad used to bring McDonald’s home after he came home from work, but when they divorced, he signed all rights to her and I never saw him or McDonald’s again.
Throughout my childhood, I loved and lost. I lost multiple goldfishes, neighbors who moved away, teachers who suddenly die, and household items getting destroyed.
Now that I’m 17, I don’t feel like I’m a ruin, it’s just a part of me. Like someone’s receding hairline, it’s just an annoying part of me not a lot of people want to see.
Today I start my senior year of high school, and getting the hell out of here is the one thing I want forever.
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