Incurable

Prologue - Whispers

Incurable. That's the whisper of a word I have been hearing all these years.

"This one is impossible," they murmur.

"It's hopeless," they hiss, "there is no way to fix her."

"Incurable," they whisper. I could hear them all along.

This one is impossible, like I'm just a number, not an actual person; there is no way to fix her, like I am a broken doll.

They are the doctors. I know they only wish to help me, but ever since they stepped into my life, things have taken a turn for the worst. They are now the only thing I see. The whitewashed walls. The smell of antiseptic and the uniforms. Oh, the uniforms are horrible, white, white, white.

White shirts.

White pants.

White coats.

White faces.

My friends stopped visiting years ago; they forgot about me. My parents don't want me back, not until I'm better at least. So I'm guessing that I will never see them again.

Don't lose hope, the voice in my mind repeats the words of the doctors over and over. The doctors lie. I will never get better. All hope is long drained. It's been ten years, ten excruciatingly long years, and I am finally done. I'm breaking out of this joint.

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Freedom. What would it be like? I have always wondered.

Will the world be any different?

Would my abilities cause any trouble?

Would I even care if it did?

All of these things dwell in my mind for days on end as I plan my escape. While I sit here strapped to a springy hospital bed, a thought burst from the depths of my mind: for ten years now, I have been hooked up to machines and have not had any adequate exercise.

Will my body be able to function once I sever the bonds to this monstrous facility?

There are so many questions, but no answers prevail.

Maybe my abilities will help.

I am still unsure of how I should refer to my abilities. When I was very young, I thought it was a power, but in the later years of my life, the doctors drilled into my mind that I was diseased. They said how my ability should be looked down upon; I had a terrible affliction that would in no way benefit me. I ate up their words like a fat boy with ice cream, but now that I look back on it, I see that the doctors were hiding things from me. They didn't want me to use my gift (that is what I see it as now) because they were afraid of my power. They were afraid I would take them down, so they hid me away and told me that my "disease" was horrid. They shut me up for a while, but I'm done being shut up. I want out.

I will not let them blow out my torch; if I go down, my enemies are coming down with me. This is not the end, but only the beginning. Once I conclude these thoughts, it only takes a moment of concentration for me to burst into flames.

A/N: So guys this is a new story that I'm trying out. Like, comment, vote, fan:)  And by the way, I LOVE feedback, so feel free to comment or PM me with whatever you think:)  Thanks for reading

I'll have it editted and re-editted soon enough. Also I'll try to get a pretty cover on it. Sounds good? Woo!