Story Ideas

Fatal Desires

She just wants to be held, to be touched. But how can she if her touch is lethal? So when he touches her, why didn't he die? Now she wants to figure out the male who can touch her, who can live with her curse.

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Prologue

I stared at my black leather gloves, innocently sitting on my desk, mocking me. I hated them, when I looked at them, it was like they were telling me that I couldn't live without them.

It was true in a way, but I couldn't be the one who suffered if I didn't wear them.... everyone else was. A small piece of clothing, something that has became a part of me. While I can live without wearing them, no one else could. Trust me, it's true. I have to make sure everything is covered. I save plenty of lives that way, but that doesn't mean I have to like them.

Through I shouldn't blame myself, I do. It wasn't my fault that I had been born with a 'curse', or a 'gift' has my Dad calls it. He's done research on people like me, people with 'gifts'.

I wasn't able to call myself 'cursed' near him. Mum would understood, he would try to convince me that I was gifted, I think it's because he didn't want to think that he brought a monster into the world. Because that's what I was, a monster, a murder and a freak against nature. Death walks next to me, taking everyone who dears touch my skin.

Dad used to try and help me control my gift. But I killed plant after plant, after more than enough failed attempts, we agreed on maximum clothing. It was a good thing that we lived in Alaska, were it was cold and I wouldn't be sweating like a person in a sauna.

I've never understood why he didn't leave me to die. Or let some scientists test on me, I'm sure that other parents would have... at least at some point. Some part of me wants to say it was out of love, but I know that it's foolish, after all who could love a soulless monster?

I now I have no soul. What kind of person kills everything with their touch? They wouldn't have a soul, if they did, it would be blacker then the coldest night. It's really common sense. Does that mean I've accepted that fact? No, I don't have a choice in the matter. I have no other choice. I don't say it to Dad anymore, he doesn't like it when I call my self a soulless monster.

But what kind of monster has a soul?