It had been at age 10 when she developed her power. Living at home with her single mum, there was no way for her to know that she had a power, she had just leaned over one day to hug her mum and then bam. She died.
When Ellen touched people, she killed them. Was this the universe's way of laughing at her?
Her mother had cared for her lovingly, which made all of this so much worse. Doting over her but keeping enough of a distance that she had independence, her mum had been kind and caring and all the things a good mother should have been.
All the way throughout growing up, Ellen fantasised about her dad. She wanted to know what he looked like and what had happened to him - had he died? Had he gone abroad?
But no - when she was old enough - Ellen's mum revealed the truth that all the fantasies Ellen had dreamed up were false and that her dad had been Catherine Colden's boyfriend and he hadn't wanted to settle down.
"But I still wanted you," her mum reached down to pinch her cheeks gently as Ellen looked down to the floor, disheartened.
"Love you, Mum," Ellen mumbled.
"Love you too, sweet cheeks," her mum whispered back.
Of course the happiness had to end - fate and karma had to occur. Her mum always had funny stories about the universe being the almighty force - like a god but not. And he would create people on this planet to do good things.
"Like doctors?" Ellen had inquired at age 6, curious, "Or police officers?"
"Well, I guess so," her mum patted her hair, "But I was more thinking like people with powers."
"Superman doesn't exist, Mummy," Ellen had informed her, wide-eyed. Her mum chuckled.
"Are you sure?" She teased.
That conversation with her mum had always stuck in her mind, because as she watched her mum, she realised that Catherine Colden probably was superman. Being a single mum is extremely hard, because a child is difficult and expensive to raise. Even though Ellen produced little trouble, her mum had to be struggling but still put on a brave face for her.
Secondary school had been right around the corner, she reckoned, when she developed the power. And then she had leaned across to her mum to hug her.
And everything had gone to hell.
Ellen didn't believe it was her - how had she just died? Was it a heart attack? She had no clue but she did what she had always been told to do - call the police. Her mother was dead, and she would still be dead when an ambulance arrived, despite how much CPR she tried to do. So, between the floods of tears, Ellen switched off the tv and the pasta that was bubbling away, and picked up the phone, turning away from the body of her maternal figure.
"Hello, my name is Ellen Colden and I need the police."
"How old are you, Miss?"
"Ten years old."
"Thank you. Why do you require the services of the police today, Miss?"
"My mum is dead."
"...Okay, thank you Miss. They will be round shortly. Sit tight - do you have any siblings?"
"No."
"Where's your father?"
"I haven't known him for the whole of my life."
"Okay, err, how's about you stay with the neighbours for a bit?"
Ellen had no intention to stay with the neighbours - didn't want them to pry just yet, but she agreed to the person on the phone's suggestion and hung up, sighing. Her mother was dead, and she was all alone.
