I've killed for the last time.

For the last time. <br><br>I’m done. <br><br>This isn’t the first time I’ve said this, but it is going to be the last. I can’t let it happen again. I’m writing this to hold myself accountable. <br><br>I don’t know to what extent you guys are aware of my story so I’m just going to summarize what’s happened. I’m going to start with my father. He’s a very wealthy and powerful man, and had always wanted a son to pass along his estate. When my mother finally gave birth to a boy, he was overjoyed. That is, until he realized that I wasn’t like the other children. He was very disappointed, and beat my mother until she was nothing more than a persistent vegetative state. He swept this under the rug and spent years raising me on his own. <br><br>I was not like other children. I was born not only with a strong musculoskeletal system, but also an extremely powerful nervous system. I had the ability to stimulate my own nerve endings to feel pain, and during all the times my father beat me as a child, I honed this technique. I learned to drown out his pain with my own. <br><br>When I got to be about 11 years old, I began to develop and understand my power more. I realized that when I was touched and it hurt, I could trace that pain to a specific part of my body, identify the nerve endings being activated, and do the same to whomever was touching me. I could control the intensity of the pain, and the area of the pain. I’ve tried burning myself multiple times, and I can use the sensation from the burns on my skin to give someone a severe burn with simply a touch. I’ve been shot three times and the pain from those has been invaluable. <br><br>His name is Sarah, and she’s been with me for a few months now. Until she moved in with me, I had thought that my father was the only person capable of seeing me. After a few months of her living with me, she was shot in the shoulder during a confrontation with my father. I was so caught up in the pain and the adrenaline that I forgot my power, and touched Sarah. I gave her third degree burns, and have spent the last six months abroad in Europe with her. <br><br>That is, until yesterday. <br><br>Yesterday, a man came in looking for Sarah. I could tell he had been looking for her for a long time. He was handsome, and had piercing green eyes. He was tall and muscular, and had a small scar on the right side of his cheek. He was gruff and had a thick french accent.<br><br>He looked at me and forced a smile. “Hello there. Is she home?” He had a stern tone, but he was trying to be polite.<br><br>I smiled back. He couldn’t see me. <br><br>“Sarah! There is someone here to see you.”<br><br>I walked through him as I made my way to our bedroom and called her name again. She didn’t respond, and she wasn’t in the bathroom or the shower. I walked back to the stranger and smiled at him. “Sorry buddy, but she isn’t home right now.”<br><br>He laughed. “You can’t see me, can you?”<br><br>Confused, I stepped back and looked at him. “See you? Of course I can’t see you, we’re having a conversation.”<br><br>He was still grinning. “You can’t see me. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”<br><br>“Excuse me? See you? Of course I can see you. I can’t see her though because she’s not home.”<br><br>I’ve been having more issues with Sarah since we returned from Europe. Sometimes she doesn’t respond to me for hours, and other times she doesn’t respond at all. I had assumed she was still pissed at me for giving her third degree burns, and I don’t blame her. But this man was acting like he could see her, and I could see him. What the fuck was he talking about? <br><br>“When did you two meet? Do you know how long I’ve been looking for her?”<br><br>I was getting frustrated. I didn’t know what he was trying to pull. <br><br>“Listen, if you’re just trying to start some bullshit about Sarah, then you can fuck off.”<br><br>The man smirked. “How long have you known her?”<br><br>“I’ve known her for a few months.” <br><br>“Did she ever talk about her family? About me?”<br><br>“I’m her family.” <br><br>The man’s face lit up with anger and he reached for his waistband. I heard the click of a gun, and put my right hand on his left arm as he tried to shoot me. <br><br>I held down the closure of the wound for what felt like minutes as I tried to come to terms with the fact that I was giving this man the pain of a gunshot wound. I was doing it again; I was killing again. <br><br>I let go of his arm and he doubled over as he fell onto the floor, screaming in pain. I let him scream. I couldn’t believe I had messed up again. I was weak, and had let my anger get the best of me. I should have just called the cops. <br><br>I thought back to all the people I had hurt, and all the people I had killed. I thought about the people I had watched burn, and the people I had watched bleed out. <br><br>I will not let that happen again. <br><br>I was so caught up in my thoughts that at first, I didn’t notice her. <br><br>“Sarah?”<br><br>I turned. She was standing next to me, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at what was left of the stranger’s arm. <br><br>“Sarah?”<br><br>I tried to touch her, but she backed away. <br><br>“Sarah, what the fuck just happened?”<br><br>She turned and ran away from me. <br><br>I left the man on my floor, screaming in pain as I followed her. She ran all the way to my car, and locked the doors as I tried to get in the backseat. <br><br>“Sarah, stop. What the fuck is going on?”<br><br>She cried as she drove away. <br><br>I was left standing in the middle of the parking lot, covered in blood. I walked back to the house and called the police. Luckily, no one was in the parking lot, and I didn’t have to deal with the cops in the parking lot too. <br><br>When they came, I answered all their questions. I told them the man had broken into my house and threatened to shoot me, and that’s why I had touched him. The police were skeptical that he had threatened to shoot me, because the gun on his person wasn’t loaded, but they also weren’t surprised. They had been looking for the man, who’s real name was Louis Montague, for a few months. <br><br>In the end, I was let off with a warning, and they offered to get me an ambulance ride. I walked home, and called Sarah. <br><br>She didn’t answer. <br><br>I walked to the nearest subway station and looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be found. <br><br>I was alone. <br><br>I walked back to my house, and I’m writing this now. I’m not going to let this happen again.