He takes a deep breath and after letting it go slowly, he continues, “But then I got really tired, so I stopped. And well, I learned something. I can change how people feel, but I can’t change the thoughts behind it that cause those emotions. Those thoughts will always be there, lurking behind the fake happiness. So when I turned off the happiness, it was like all those dark emotions I had suppressed in everyone came barreling in all at once. And they, uh, couldn’t handle it.”
“So you made them happy again?” I say.
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t. I was too exhausted.” His lip quivers and his voice shakes as he speaks. “I fell asleep for days. And when I woke up…” He rubs the back of his head. “Have you heard about the town of Foxenfort?”
“Ah.”
Foxenfort. I read about it online, about a year ago when I started looking into people like me in earnest. I would scan the news for strange, impossible events. Foxenfort was a small town somewhere in the middle of America. Almost everyone there committed mass suicide on the same day. Many suspected it was cult related, but the few survivors gave no clues, since they were all whisked away to mental institutions. There was just one boy who wasn’t, and was put into the foster care system instead. I had brushed that story off as irrelevant, but I guess I was wrong.
So even someone with a seemingly good gift can have such a troubling past. I don’t know how to feel about that.
“I’m really sorry,” he says in a low voice, hanging his head down. “I shouldn’t have tried to manipulate your feelings. I said I can help, but that’s a lie. I can’t truly help. All I can do is just delay and compound the feelings.”
His head is down, but I can see it in his posture and the half of his face that’s visible. I know that look, that state of mind. He’s spiraling. Down, down. And my messed up feelings probably aren’t helping him.
I clap a couple times. He jolts his head up, looking at me wide-eyed.
“Hey, what’s your name? I’m Chrys. New here, as you could probably tell. Chrys with a y.”
“Chrys?”
“Yeah. What’s yours?”
“Uh, Hunter.”
“Hunter. Cool.”
His breathing starts to slow. He’s still staring at me. Oddly, being with him is making me feel better, and I don’t think it’s him trying to change my feelings again. I think it’s because he opened up to me so easily. How could he do that—just tell me all of that about his family and his past and come clean about his lie even?
Can I do that too?
“Hunter, uh…” I look away from him, down at my hands, which I’m wringing in my lap. “Do you want to know what my gift is?”
“Is it a secret?”
“Kind of. Only Valeria knows.”
He laughs dryly. “Yeah, you can’t hide anything from her. Difficult to be around, that one. Strong emotions.” When I don’t reply, he continues, “Why do you want to tell me then?”
“Well, I plan on having it removed anyway.”
“Ah you got your first task from Li, huh?”
I look over at him, surprised. “Did you ask her too?”
“Of course. Everyone here has asked at one point or another. It’s no secret. Most come here with that intention.”
“Then…?”
“Why do I still have my gift?”
I nod.
“Because I couldn’t do it. The task.”
“It doesn’t seem like your gift is a secret though.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then what was your task?”
He grimaces. “I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it. But Li, she forces you to confront your gift, your past—everything. There are three tasks. Always three. I did the first two, no problem. But the third.” He inhales deeply and says as he exhales, “I couldn’t.”
“But what was it?”
“Just be skeptical, okay? She probably asked you to tell everyone what your gift is. That’s the first task, right? It’s hard but done. Okay, next. Next one is harder, but done. Then the last one… You probably won’t be able to, honestly. No one has. Few have even gotten past the first, like Valeria. She had the same first task as you, you know. Couldn’t do it. So if I were you, I just wouldn’t bother. You tell everyone your gift but then maybe you can’t do the second task, or the third one. And then, what? Was it worth it—worth spilling the beans?”
I’m wringing my hands even more now, with every word he says. It’s quiet for a while. I can feel him looking at me but I keep my gaze on my hands. These hands…
I don’t want to fear my hands anymore. I don’t want to fear touching people anymore. I’ll never be able to erase the memories but I don’t want to fear creating new, worse ones anymore. I just want it to be over.
I stop wringing my hands and turn my head to him. “I’ll do it. I’ll do all the tasks.”
“Chrys—”
“My gift. It’s death.”
His eyes open wide and I feel that tiny shred of confidence that came from nowhere start to fade away, but before it does completely, I force myself to keep talking.
“If I touch someone,” I say, “my skin on their skin, I can make them die. Stop their heart in an instant. Looks like a heart attack. It’s quick. Painless. For them, at least. For me…” My voice shakes, so I stop.
He turns away. “That must have been difficult for you, back when you had no control over it.”
“Yeah. It was.”
And then, a tear falls down my face and more tears follow. And then my whole body is shaking from the sobs. Hunter stays with me, but he doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t come closer. He doesn’t try to make me happy either. So, I cry with him there, until the
