To Be Your Curse

Chapter 10: Curses

That night marked the end of my obliviousness-the death of Maren's naive guardian.

It was painful how, after reading just a single book-not even to the end-the world became duller. The book, with all its dense passages and complex ideas, managed to paint a sharper, clearer picture of the world for me. A picture I almost wished I hadn't seen.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Maren's pain. Her parents' coldness.

Yes, Maren's curse seemed deceptively simple-she was destined to miss what she held dearest. But was it really that simple? Maren's curse, like all curses, was rooted deep within her-an inseparable part of her being. The first thing I learned that night was how curses didn't just happen to people; they were woven into them, almost like they were designed to be the most affected by their curse. Yes, people were, in a way, designed to match their curse. Someone who could easily detach, who didn't cling to things or people, would never receive a curse like Maren's. They wouldn't see "missing something" as suffering at all. But not Maren.

Maren wasn't just being overly dramatic; she was truly suffering, as if she were battling a relentless illness. Her emotions were completely beyond her control, and suddenly, everything clicked. A person's curse doesn't just reveal their weakness-it magnifies it, warps it into something almost unbearable. For Maren, that curse was an all-consuming attachment. Losing that toy wasn't just a minor loss; it tore through her with the same intensity as if she were mourning a real person. The pain was raw, real, and overwhelming, and it made her struggle all the more heartbreaking. This was something almost everyone would have to pass through, though we wouldn't feel the exact same thing, we would to go through pain, the weight of this realization crushed me.

Soon I felt disgust, disgusts for her parents. Grown adults, the ones who should've known better. This knowledge that was so new to must've been old news to them. They understood the depths of their daughter's suffering, the nature of her curse, and yet, they chose to distance themselves

Why? Why would they do that? Why would they turn their backs on their daughter when she needed them the most?

It was simple.

Maren's curse never specified how many times Maren would experience having to miss something she cared for and that scared them, especially when they realized her curse had already started taking place at such a young age. They feared they would be next. They feared that if Maren started valuing them too much -her family--, her curse would demand the loss of their relationship. So they did the only thing that made sense to them-they pushed her away. They tried to distance themselves, fearing that their marriage might become entangled in Maren's curse.

In their desperate attempt to avoid the curse, they had unknowingly triggered it. When they abandoned her emotionally, the dearest thing to Maren after her teddy bear-her parents-was taken away from her too.

It was exactly like the book said: the people around us are merely actors in the play of our curse, our actions are being influenced so we can play a part in making those curses happen. Everyone we meet, every relationship we form, every love we cherish... they were all just pawns in the twisted games our curses played. We were all being manipulated, drawn in and out of each other's lives by these forces.

I thought that now that I knew this, my bond with Maren had strengthened. I wasn't going to be a pawn like the rest. No matter what... Maren would never have to miss me or our relationship. That's what I thought.

How naïve.

Learning all I did didn't help me figure out a way to comfort Maren, but it did help me understand her better. It opened my eyes to the world we live in and gave me insight into people's actions. Yet, despite all that understanding, I still felt helpless when it came to her pain. I clung to her even more, hoping that just being there might make a difference, though deep down I knew it didn't. I wanted to be the one she could hold onto, the person she would turn to when everything else seemed to crumble.