New Start.

   I am here to start fresh. Only wishing for this blog to give me good things in the future. I hope it does. Here is a new story. It isn't fantastic by any means, but this is a new beginning, a fresh start. So here it is!

Unnamed.

We all know the feeling of wanting to take people’s pain away. We see the tears dancing across their face, or the blood dripping from their skin, and we want to help. The deepest part of us wishes to take that pain away, and let ourselves bear the burden of all the pain that they feel. If you had the power to take their pain and wear their tragedies, would you? You will never have to face this question, and you should be glad, but I will, and do. This question is my past, present, and future. I, Helena VanHoit, face this question every day.

When I was a toddler, at about the age 3, I first learned of my power. I was waddling down the street with my best friend, Annabelle, with our parents following us, taking pictures of us walking in our large puffy jackets and our bright red balloons tied to our wrists.

After a moment of hopping like bunnies over the cracks in the sidewalk, Belle tripped and fell. She landed face first on the concrete, smushing her button nose against the ground. Her mother ran up behind her, and picked her up. Belle was sobbing. She was in pain, and at this age, I knew she was hurting. Her mom crouched down to put her back on the ground, and she put her hands straight up, trying to tell her mom to pick her up, but I waddled over to her with my stubby toddler legs. I placed my tiny finger on her nose, and closed my eyes. I didn’t know why, I just thought that was what I needed to do.

With my eyes closed I concentrated on her pain. I concentrated on the tears running down her face, and as I did that, my face hurt too! I started to feel this burning feeling on my face and when i touched my finger my own nose, it stung, and hurt terribly. I opened my eyes and looked at Belle, her nose was still red but she was just as happy as she was before the incident. At age 3 I didn’t know what was going on, so I started to cry, feeling my nose and wincing every time the stinging feeling struck me. My mom picked me up and reassured me that Belle was the one that hurt her nose, not me, and that I was fine. This was when I first knew something was going on. Even at such a young age I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but I didn’t think about it too much, all I was concentrating on was the pain.