Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006 21:49:12 +0200 From: E. Galmor <the.perfect.form@gmail.com> Subject: The Perfect Form This is my first story to ever be published, and it is comprised of five parts.In each part, I try to explore the depth of human behavior in all its different forms.The first part, Blue Sapphire, tells the story of Adam, a young man who is invulnerable to physical harm, yet is emotionally dead until he meets the man who will change his life forever.Soon, Adam will be forced to run for his life, while discovering that there actually are some things in life that are worth clinging on to.I hope you'll enjoy reading about Adam's journey as much as I enjoy writing it. The Perfect Form Erez Adam Galmor Part I -- Blue Sapphire Elijah took the child and brought him down from the upper room into the house and gave him to his mother; and Elijah said, "See, your son is alive." Then the woman said to Elijah, "Now I know that you are a man of God and that the word of the LORD in your mouth is truth." 1 Kings 17:23-24 Chapter 1 -- A Pitiful Life I lay on my bed that cold December morning, unable to think of any reason to get up. The dark shadows of the trees danced wildly on my wall as the wind rattled them fiercely, and I thought to myself that if only I could siphon just a little of that energy, then maybe...maybe I will be able to keep going a little while longer. But I couldn't. I was spent. After 18 years in this world, I felt I had nothing more to look forward to. I opened my window and stared outside. The grey sky welcomed me with its sinister grin. I climbed onto the ledge and looked down. Living on the 13th floor really gives you a nice view of the city. I closed my eyes and spread my arms. I took one last breath, letting it fill my chest with the essence of the world I would be leaving behind. And then the pavement began approaching me ... fast. My sad, pitiful life went through my head, just like the people on TV often described. And then the ground hit me. Maybe if I felt even the slightest pain, then this whole process wouldn't have been completely pointless. If I could just transfer some of the horror I felt inside to the outside, where people could see it. I got up and walked back to the front door of my building. Thomas, the doorman, greeted me with a hearty "Good morning, Adam!", and was surprised he didn't see me exit. I went upstairs and lay back down on my bed. The shadows were dancing on my wall stronger than ever. -0-0-0-0-0- I went to the supermarket that afternoon, searching for a frozen dinner that wouldn't taste too awful. If I thought I had the will power to starve myself to death, I think I would have done so a long time ago. Searching the frozen food section, I noticed a mother and her five-year-old pass me by, the toddler riding happily in the shopping cart. I felt a familiar dull ache in my chest as I tried to remember the last time I saw my mom. I tried to concentrate on finding something for dinner when I noticed I had crushed the part of the freezer that was beneath my right hand. Shit! I almost started to cry right then and there, but I managed to keep it together and slowly walked away, hoping no one had seen me. Doris, the cashier, welcomed me with her smile. I'd come to look forward to it. She was always so nice to me ... God knows why. Nobody else in my life ever thought me worthy of it. "You used to cook your own meals in the past," she said frowning. "Why did you stop?" "Oh ... I've ... just become too busy, that's all," I said with a forced half smile. The truth is it took all of my will power just to get out of bed and drag my sorry self here. I had no desire left in me for anything ... let alone cooking. "Paper or Plastic?" she asked. I felt a surge of anger rush through me and I answered, "Plastic, please". I don't know why, but it felt good to know I'd be doing something bad to the environment, maybe make them all pay! I know it's stupid ... I'm not usually an angry person. I walked outside and saw the mother and her kid leaving behind me. Memories rushed through me then. I could vaguely remember my mom and me going shopping when I was just a little boy, all of the people passing by telling her how beautiful and cute I was. Like my looks ever did me any good. I didn't think I looked that hot anyway. I also remembered my mom's first scream of fear as I lifted the living room sofa by myself to get my toy fire truck out from under it. Things were never the same again after that. I remember she tried to keep me locked up in the house for a very long time afraid someone would find out her perfect boy was flawed. Life continued like that for 3 years, until I was 7. I never saw the light of day except through my bedroom window. We moved then, after I disobeyed my mom and went to play in the yard, accidentally pushing on my neighbors' tree a bit too strongly, resulting in it falling over their roof, smashing it completely. Of course, no one ever thought I was responsible. How could I have been? I was just a seven-year-old boy ... But my mom was so horrified that she moved us to New York City the next week. She kept me there in the basement, forbidding me to ever walk out of it. She used to bring me my meals through a small crack she made in the door, and I had a bucket to ... do my stuff in. I used to cry myself to sleep every night, until one day I just ran out of tears. I became emotionless ... like a robot. After two weeks, my mom felt a little sorry for me and started bringing me books to read. I loved those books. Those fantastic stories of bravery and adventure and ... love. That word seemed so alien to me. I understood the dictionary definition of it, but I never could grasp its true meaning. Over the next 3 years, I think I must have read at least 500 stories. All genres, all styles... I didn't care. It was my only escape. One day, after about a year and a half, my mom let me out and brought me into another room upstairs, where she told me to sit quietly and not make any sound. I was so happy! I was out! Maybe she finally decided to free me from my prison. But life has a way of playing cruel jokes on you, and I found that out that day. It turns out, that in an effort to reduce her guilt, my mom called a technician to get a TV outlet installed in the basement. She then proceeded to put a small, black and white TV down there. This was a new experience for me. I had completely forgotten about the TV I used to watch before I was locked down there. It did help ... a little. It brought sounds and sights into an otherwise dark and quiet basement. Of course, I could have broken out. After knocking down a tree I was pretty sure I could handle the wooden door of the basement. But I was scared. My mom kept telling me that if anyone ever found out about me, they would kill me. So I stayed there for 3 years, `til I was 10. Then my life took a dramatic turn. It came in the form of my father, whom I'd never met or even heard about. My mom came down into the basement one morning, or at least I think it was morning ... I had no windows down there. "Adam, come here and sit next to mommy," she told me. I was so happy to see her... Usually, the only contact I had with her was accepting my food through the slit in the door or giving her my bucket every week. I sat next to her on the cold floor. "Adam, I know you used to ask me questions in the past about ... about your daddy." It felt so good to hear her voice. Back then, I didn't know how cruel she was ... I didn't know any better. "Well ... your father has come back, and he wants you to move into one of his houses. In Europe." -0-0-0-0-0- "Do you want some candy, mister?" a voice shook me away from my thoughts of the past. It was the little boy, holding a lollipop above his head, and he had the most perfect smile. "You better take it, or he will never leave you alone," the mother told me, winking at me. I took the lolly from the kid and smiled. "Thank you, little guy," I said. "I'm not little! I'm five-and-a-half years old!" he said, a little hurt. "Oh, my mistake," I said smiling. "You're a big boy". He smiled again, and then he and his mom waved me goodbye as they strolled away. I looked at the lolly, and I felt a tear drop down my left check. He gave me a lolly. Someone actually cared. But I quickly shook myself out of it. Who was I kidding? Getting all emotional about some kid who probably just likes to give away candy ... I'm so pathetic, I thought to myself. A scream was what I heard next, and a terrifying one at that. I looked back and saw the kid in the middle of the road, obviously chasing his small blue bouncy ball. A truck was speeding towards him, honking loudly, and I saw the mom standing there terrified, completely devoid of color. I promised myself I would never do this again ... it was too dangerous. But how could I let this sweet innocent kid die? My body took command of me even before I finished pondering it, and I saw myself running to him, jumping between cars with a dexterity I knew only I possessed. I got to him an instant before the truck, and pushed him out of the way. I ducked down as the truck ran over me, the wheels trying to crush my 18-year-old body. But there was no crushing it. It cannot be harmed. Oh, how I hoped then that truck actually managed to break me, to tear me apart and finally give me peace. Before the truck passed over me completely I quickly took off my jacket, which had dark tire tracks on it. The traffic came to a complete stop by then, and the mom rushed to pick up her boy in her arms, sobbing loudly. The truck driver, who turned out to be a really, really, fat woman, climbed out, sure she had hit the kid. She sighed happily and made a cross with her hand on her chest when she saw the kid was okay. "I could have sworn I hit something," she said then. I knew no one saw me push the boy out of harm's way, and I was glad. I didn't want to have to start explaining things I didn't know how to explain. I quickly removed myself from the scene, feeling angry at myself for breaking the vow I took to never again display my abilities where people might see them. "Don't you remember what happened with John?" I reminded myself. John... just remembering him brought me over the edge, and I knew I couldn't hold it much longer. I crept into a parking lot, sat between the cars, and started crying uncontrollably. More memories kept rushing through me then. -0-0-0-0-0- When I got to one of my father's mansions, outside a small town in Austria, I found out I would not get to meet him as I hoped. The flight to Austria was one of the happiest memories I have. I saw the world for the first time in so long, and the flight attendants treated me like ... like a person. I had never known such affection. At the mansion, I was greeted by an old butler, whose name I later found to be William. He was in his 70s, and he didn't talk much. He escorted me to a huge room with a round ceiling, the top of which was made of transparent glass. It was all so beautiful. A man in his 40s sat there in a huge leather chair and smiled at me. "You must be Adam," he said. "I was looking forward to meeting you". "Are you my father?" I remembered asking the man. "No, I'm afraid not. It is impossible for your father to be here to greet you himself, so he sent me to take care of you, child". The man's name was Mr. Cohen. I never learned his first name. He said that my father might come someday, when it would be possible. I'd waited for that day for so long. My father wanted me to be happy. My father released me from my prison and brought me here to this beautiful place. My father sent someone to look after me. My father ... did he ... love me? Was this love? I spent the next five years there in near complete solitude. My only contact was with the help and Mr. Cohen. But it was a vast improvement none the less. Mr. Cohen was really nice to me, and he taught me so much. I had never spent a day in school, so he decided to teach me everything I had missed. I learned mathematics, geography, history and even a little philosophy. But what I appreciated the most was that Mr. Cohen taught me how to control my abilities. We'd spend hours in the training room, going over every possible exercise. I asked Mr. Cohen why I possessed these abilities while others appeared not to have them. But after he dismissed my questions with the simple answer of "You're just special," a few times, I let it go. He seemed to know everything there was to know about my physical abilities, and he trained me well. But as much as I liked Mr. Cohen's teachings, there was still something very missing in my life. Mr. Cohen might have been a great teacher, but he never showed me any sign of affection. Not that he didn't like me. I'm sure he did. But, he was just... not a person that showed these kinds of emotions. So five years passed by, and I started to push my awful, traumatic childhood in the farthest recesses of my mind. But as the years went by, I also began to sink deeper and deeper into depression. When I was locked up in the basement, I didn't know any better. The only source of outside information I had was my books and my TV, and I could chalk it all up to fiction—this wasn't real life, this only happens in stories. But now, living with people going about their chores around the house, I made a habit of hiding out of sight and eavesdropping on their conversations. I heard the maids talking about their lives, their family, their loved ones. It was then I realized that the world was so much more beautiful than what I was led to believe. It wasn't like everybody was lonely and loveless ... just me. When I was 14 I got to a point where my life stopped mattering at all. I locked myself up in my room for days on end and stopped studying with Mr. Cohen all together. I just couldn't take it anymore. The loneliness...the emptiness. Then, one day, not too long after my 15th birthday, I heard a sound coming from my bedroom window. I looked at it and saw small pebbles hitting it every few seconds. I opened it and looked down. Nothing prepared me for what I saw next. Standing beneath me was ... was ... a boy. He seemed to be my age, and he had the most beautiful face, the most beautiful smile. His blonde hair was short, but really bright, falling over the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I must have stood there motionless for about a minute, because the next thing I knew one of the pebbles hit me directly in the face. He said something in German then. I knew just enough German to tell him that I don't speak German. "Do you speak English?" he asked me. I nodded. "Thank God! Someone who speaks English!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Can you come down here?" he asked. I didn't know what to say. Nothing in my life ever prepared me for something like this. I had never had any contact with people my own age. Well ... maybe when I was 3. My heart started racing faster than it ever has. Finally, I decided to go for it. I was so lonely I would have run to the devil himself if he promised he would keep me company for just a little while! I quickly made my way to the lower part of the house and walked through the back door. When I finally reached him, I couldn't believe it -- he was even more beautiful to behold from up close! "Hey, I'm John," he said with a smile and offered me his hand. I was supposed to shake it, I knew. I'd seen it on TV. So I took his hand carefully and gave him the slightest shake. I wasn't prepared for it. I think I nearly fainted right then and there. To touch another person ... his skin was so soft ... so warm. I held back a tear that started to exit my left eye. "Are you okay, man?" he must have noticed my confusion. "Yes. I am fine." I said in my most distinguished tone of voice, just like Mr. Cohen had taught me. He let go of my hand and stared me deep in my eyes. No one ever bothered looking at me ... I always thought I was too hideous to look at. At least that's what my mother told me a few times when she was drunk. "My family moved here a few weeks ago from the states, and when I heard there was someone my age living here -- you can't believe how happy I was!" Was he talking about me? It can't be; No one is ever happy to see me, I thought to myself, again struggling to keep the tears inside. "And you speak English, too! That's fucking awesome!" Fu...Fucking? What did that mean? I've never heard that word before, or the word awesome. Maybe he spoke a different dialect than me. "I'm from the U.S., too," I said quietly, my eyes staring at the floor. "You're shitting me!" he shouted and started to jump a little. I didn't know what shitting meant either... Was it good? God, I hope it's good! Please don't let this kid go away! "I can't believe I spent three weeks alone in this hell hole when you were right here the whole time!" Hell hole? Are there holes in hell? Or was hell the adjective and we were living in a hole that had hellish attributes? No ... that didn't make sense either. "You don't talk much do you?" he asked me. I lifted my head a little, afraid to look into his eyes again. "I ... I've never met someone my own age." I said. "Are you fucking serious?" he asked with amazement on his face. I was serious, but I didn't know if I was fucking serious. I decided to answer yes anyway. "Where were you all your life? Locked in some dank basement?" "How did you know?" I asked surprisingly. He stared at me for a second, and then just started laughing. That laugh—I still remember it today. That beautiful laugh ... "Good one, kid," he said smiling. "Say, you never told me your name!" "It's, ah ... Adam," I said blushing. Someone was interested in me, wanted to know things about me. I couldn't believe it. This must be a dream. Any moment I would wake up into my cold reality, and I'd feel even worse. "Adam!" I heard a voice coming from my room upstairs. It was Mr. Cohen. "What are you doing down there?! You know you're not supposed to leave the house! Come back here immediately!" "I'm sorry ... I ... I have to go," I told John though it pained me greatly to do so. I felt a feeling then that I never felt before. Later, I'd know that this is the feeling people call hate. I hated Mr. Cohen in that moment so much! How could he do this to me! There is a live human being here, talking to me! Interested in me! I heard John whisper in my ear then, "Try to sneak off in the middle of the night. I'll be awake! I will wait for you in the field nearby!" With that, he took off, and I went grudgingly back upstairs. Mr. Cohen gave me a huge lecture on how I should never leave the house, and how dangerous it is if someone ever found out about my abilities. I tuned him out completely. All I could think about was my escape plan for the night. I have to see him again! I just have to! I remembered Inga always left the key to the back door above the refrigerator. I'm tall enough to reach there now! I spent the hours that came after that quietly in my room, sometimes hearing Mr. Cohen screaming at the help for letting me leave the mansion. When night finally came, I was ready. I waited until one a.m., making sure everybody was sound asleep. I snuck to the huge kitchen and went straight to the meat refrigerator where I knew the key was kept. I managed to barely reach it, but I almost fell. Of course I could have just lifted the refrigerator and turned it over, but I figured it would make all of the food inside spill, and I didn't want to make any noises. I quietly opened the backdoor and stepped outside. The fresh air filled me completely. I felt so alive at that moment. I started to walk slowly down the road leading to the field. I enjoyed every step I took, every breath. All of the sounds seemed so magical to me. The leaves, the owls, the crickets. The moon was full that night, and I finally stared at it from outside the confines of the mansion. I stopped then and just stared at it. After what must have been 15 minutes, I felt someone's hand on my back! No! I've been caught! They're going to take me back home! I wasn't about to let them do it, I was going to fight them! And I knew I would win! But when I turned around, I was relived to see John's beautiful face staring at me with a little amazement. "Wow ... you've got some good posture, man! I pushed you and you didn't even budge!" I tried to cover his confusion by talking. "My name is not ... man ... it's Adam. You must have gotten confused because Adam was the first man," I said quietly, smiling just a little to hide my anxiety. "Where in the U.S. are you from exactly?" he asked with a grin on his face. "New York City!" I said excitedly. Finally he was talking about something I understood, something I could answer, something to contribute to the conversation with! "Are you slightly retarded or something?" he asked smiling. "What? No... I have no mental deficiencies..." "If you say so..." he said with that beautiful smile, and patted me on the shoulder. He touched me! Me! I turned around as I felt a tear gliding down my right cheek. "You're really tight, man ... you know that?" Tight? Why can't he speak English! How can a person be tight? "I'm ... I'm ... just not used to being around ... people." I decided to be honest. The truth is, I wanted nothing else than to burst into tears right there and tell him my entire miserable life's story. He likes me ... right? He would listen! But I held it back, knowing deep down that no one can ever really care for me, not someone who I now know people call a ... freak. I wiped my tear and turned back to face him. "You know what? I'm starting to believe you. You really do look like someone who hasn't been around much." Again with his cryptic phrases. "You wanna have a smoke?" he asked me and presented me with 2 cigarettes. I knew smoking was bad, I've read all about it. But at that moment, I think I would have killed someone just to please him. "Ah ... sure," I said to him, taking one of the cigarettes with a shaky hand. I put it in my mouth like I knew I was supposed to, and he proceeded to give me a light from his lighter. He lit my cigarette, but I had no idea what to do with it. He must have noticed that, because the next thing he said was -- "You have to drag on it ... you know... like on a straw," he said, a little condescendingly, but I didn't notice that back then. I dragged on my cigarette and pulled some smoke into my mouth. I immediately began to cough. "God, you're such a rookie," he said smiling and patting me on the back. Every touch sent waves of pleasure down my spine, and I wanted to continue coughing for ever. Eventually I calmed down, and he stomped both our cigarettes into the ground. "Maybe it's not for everybody," he said with the cutest smile. "Come one, let me show you something," he told me. We walked for about 10 minutes with him asking me all sorts of questions, me having very few answers. I could tell he was getting a little frustrated with me, so I tried to think of something to say to make him like me again. "You're really pretty," I said to him. He looked at me with a slight horror on his face. "Oh, man! Just my luck! The only guy my age for miles on end, and he's a fucking fag!" "What?! No! I'm not ... what's a fag?" "A fag, faggot, a homo!" he said, looking at me disgustingly. "I don't know those words!" I said, tearing up. "A guy that likes other guys!" I just didn't get it. Was I not supposed to like other guys? Was I supposed to dislike them? "Am I not supposed to?" I said, anxiety in my voice. Why didn't anybody teach me the rules? "No! You're not supposed to want to have sex with other guys!" Sex? I knew what that was! I've read about that. "I don't want to have sex with you!" I said with a shaky but firm voice. Two men can't have sex. The books clearly stated that sexual intercourse is between male and female. "So you're not a fag? Then why do you go around telling guys they're beautiful?" "Am I not supposed to?" I said again. "God ... you really don't have a clue, do you?" he said to me. "But ... I guess if you're not a fag, I can teach you some stuff," he said with a smile. I was so happy to have gotten on his good side again; I smiled -- this time a big smile. "Come on, farm boy, follow me," he said, shaking his head. We arrived at a big tree, where I found out John had built himself a small dwelling he called a "tree house". It was very nice and cozy, and we must have spent 3 hours there before I finally got scared of getting caught and told him I needed to go home. During those hours, we talked a lot. Actually, he talked -- and I listened. He decided to fill me in on all the things a cool kid should know. Whatever a cool kid is... He told me about all those strange words he kept using, made fun of my outfit, my hair, my shoes and pretty much everything about me. But I didn't care. He liked me - that was all that mattered. He told me about his life, how he was forced to come live here with his parents who were on a diplomatic assignment here in Austria. They were both gone most of the time, and the maids fixed his meals and made his bed. At that point I started sharing similar stories with him. I too was only in the company of hired help. He started telling me all of the embarrassing secrets he found out about the help by spying on them, and here I knew I really had things to contribute. I started telling him all of the things I heard while spying on the maids around the mansion, and he just cracked up every time at their "pathetic" life stories, as he called them. I felt something that night that I only remembered feeling once before, when I first came here in the hopes of meeting my dad. It was happiness. I was actually happy. And I continued being happy, long after that night was over. John and I continued having rendezvous at his tree house almost every night. After a while, I started to understand his strange dialect. I started to open up more, though I never talked about my past. He would sometimes bring board games or his laptop, and we would spent hours playing and laughing. I was so happy. There existed someone in this cruel world that actually liked me, that actually wanted my company! John showed me a whole different side to life, a side I never knew existed. But around the same time I met John, I started experiencing feelings and urges I had never felt before. I felt strange feelings in my genital area, and I started dreaming about John all the time. In my dreams, he was ... touching me... holding me ... and I'd never felt better in my life than I did in those sweet dreams. I didn't understand them at first, but as my member started acting up more and more, I finally understood what was happening to me. I'd read about this! Your penis is supposed to react like this to sexual stimulations! But that is supposed to happen with girls! I got very confused and fearful, and for a while, I stayed clear of John, telling him I just couldn't leave the mansion. He wasn't too happy about that, which made me feel so good ... so special. He really does want my friendship. After about two weeks of not seeing John, I finally broke. I couldn't spend another day without him! I went to the tree house that night, and boy was he happy to see me! He actually gave me ... a hug. My body tensed up as I remembered that perfect hug. I never knew so much joy in my life. I knew that I could never tell John how I felt. Being a fag is wrong! He would hate me! Why must I always be so ... so defective! So I kept my emotions bottled up inside of me, but as time went on, I felt the urge to share more of myself with him. If I couldn't share my feelings with him, maybe I could share something else - something I was told to never tell anybody as long as I lived! He's my friend ... surely he would understand ... he's not like everybody else ... he likes me ... he loves me... he must love me! Why else would he spend so much time with me? So one night, I decided it was time. We were in his tree house as usual, when I told him I needed to talk to him. He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out the window. He knew I always coughed when I breathed the stuff. Funny ... my body can withstand so much, but it goes into spasms whenever I breathe a little smoke. "Sure, buddy. What's on your mind?" he asked me. My heart was racing at what seemed like 200 miles an hour, and I started to shake involuntary. "There's something I haven't told you about me," I said with my head down. This got his curiosity and he leaned closer, tossing his cigarette out the window. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything!" "I'm not like most pe... people..." "What do you ... oh no! You are a fag, aren't you!" he said, sounding very disappointed. "No! It's not that!" He sighed. "Thank God! Don't give such scares anymore, dude! You just took four years off my life!" he said smiling. God... was being a "fag" really so terrible? My feelings felt so right ... how can that be wrong? "So what is it?" he said, breaking my trail of thoughts. "I can ... do things other people can't." "Like what?" He had that inquisitive, crooked look on his face. I decided to just show him. There was a metal pipe in the tree house that John once found in the field. I picked it up and stared at it for a while, not sure if I could take the next step. "You're not gonna hit me with that, are you buddy?" he said, a little frightened. "No! Of course not!" I said, a little insulted he would think that. And then I did it. I bent it. Right in front of his eyes. That was the worst mistake I had ever made. It seemed I lost my best friend, my only friend, my house, my life ... all in one night. John screamed for so long, I don't think anybody got much sleep that night. I know I didn't sleep for weeks after that, his terrified voice still ringing in my ears. I remember him running home, screaming "Help me!" over and over again. "He's not human!" His words hurt so much ... I literally felt my heart explode into a million pieces inside of me. I ran home, too. Mr. Cohen and the entire staff seemed to have awakened from John's horrible screams of terror. I blocked out what happened after that. It was too painful. I vaguely remember Mr. Cohen yelling at me like no one ever yelled at me before. He was so angry ... I remember him telling me that I had lost my position there, and that I must leave and never come back. There is one thing I remember, will always remember. He told me my father was about to come soon, but that I could now forget about ever seeing him for as long as I live! He wanted to hurt me - I hated him so much. The next day one of the maids drove me to the train station. I was to be "shipped" back, as Mr. Cohen put it, back to the U.S., to the state of Colorado. I was told I would have a bank account, and that money for me to live on will be delivered there every month. An apartment had been secured for me in the City of Denver. I was never to call, never to write, never even mention the names of anyone I had met in Austria, especially John or Mr. Cohen. The maid who drove me to the train was named Gertrude. I always liked her. She used to sneak me cookies when no one looked. She seemed to be the only person in the whole mansion that bothered smiling at me once in a while... "There is something very important that I must tell you, Adam," she said suddenly. I looked up at her from the passenger's seat, not knowing what she could possibly tell me that held any sort of importance. "I have something to give you," she said. "It's from your father." My eyes lit up to the sound of those words. What is it?" I asked both sadly and excitedly. She gave me a small wooden box. "You mustn't open it until you're in your apartment in the states," she said. "Your father broke a lot of rules to get this to you, and no one must ever find out!" I was very surprised at this. Up to this point, I thought only Mr. Cohen had any knowledge of my abilities. But she seemed to be in on the whole thing. "What is it?" I asked, a sad look on my face. She stroked my hair, something no one had ever done for me before. "I don't know, dear. I'm not supposed to," she said. I took the small box from her hands and she told me to hurry or I'll miss my train. I came to Austria with nothing, and somehow, I left it with less. I didn't want to live. I couldn't take the hurt anymore. I still can't. The only thing I clung to was that small wooden box I dared not open. -0-0-0-0-0- A loud noise shook me awake. I must have fallen asleep between the cars. It took me a moment to remember where I was - the parking lot next to the supermarket. It was night. I must have cried myself to sleep. I seem to do that a lot. I got up, but immediately knew something was wrong. My body is tuned that way... sensing emotions. It only got this way the past two years, and I hadn't gotten used to it yet. But I knew what I was feeling. It was fear. Not my own, but of someone close. I looked ahead of me and saw a guy about my age sitting on his knees on the ground. His hands were covering his face, and he was shaking. Next to him stood a large man, about 30, I guessed. He wore a short sleeved shirt, even in this December cold, and his arms were covered with snake tattoos. In his right hand he held a gun, and he was pointing it at the young man's face. "Any last words, you fucker?!" I heard him ask. Why was nobody stopping this? But there was nobody there but me and them. I guess men never really learn from their mistakes. At least I don't. I just couldn't let the man shoot him. My body sprung to action as I dashed towards the would be killer with super human agility. I knocked him down, but he managed to free himself from my grip and stood up. I followed suit. "You just made the biggest fucking mistake of your life, mothafucker!" he said to me, grinning. Three deafening bangs came next. I felt the bullets hit my forehead, but of course, felt no pain. The large guy stared at me with amazement. "I just... I just shot you!" he said. Then suddenly he took the young man up by the collar of his jacket, and pointed the gun to his temple. "Not one move or he's fucking dead! You may be impervious to bullets, but he isn't!" he said panicking. I froze. I then got my first look at the young man's face. He was the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He had dark blond hair and amazing green eyes. He was so scared. All I could think about was making that fear in his eyes go away. He was pleading to me with them to help him. This time there was no hesitation. I lunged at him. I knew I would be too quick for him to respond, but I was still scared shitless. I pushed him back with a force I never thought I would use on another human being. But I pushed him too far. Not only do I think I broke his rib cage, but I threw him right into traffic. He was hit by a yellow sports car. The young man looked at me then, and I once again froze. What have I done?! I exposed myself! I spent the last 3 years alone, never getting close to anybody in order to protect my horrible secret, and now I ruined everything! The man was still staring at me, and there were tears in his eyes. I wasn't going to wait for the screaming. I ran. I ran so fast I couldn't see where I was going. My eyes began filling with tears. Then I felt it. My necklace ... it wasn't there! That was all it took. I crawled into a nearby alley and passed out. A mile and a half from there, the young guy, still shaken up and unable to move, suddenly noticed something on the ground, reflecting the light from the street lights above. There on the dirty concrete was a silver necklace, and on that necklace, tied to it with a small ring, was a beautiful, small, blue sapphire. ---------------------- Please send feedback to "The.Perfect.Form@gmail.com". Thanks!!!