Give Until It Hurts

Chapter 3: An explaination

I woke up, sat up, and imediately tipped over. Why was I going so fast? More importantly, why was I going at all? Before I could figure out the answer to either of those questons, the driver looked over at me. 

It was the really hot thief-ish guy from the alley. I frowned at him. “I thought you were just a thief. I didn't know you had a side job kidnapping girls.” He frowned and glanced over at me, paying extra attention to... my belly. I was instantly self conscious and crossed my arms over it. “You fainted.” “Duh.” He grinned at my response. “So I'm taking you to a hospital.” “No you're not.” his smile got bigger. He looked at my belly again. “You're right. You're not in excruciating pain anymore. Care to explain why?” He pulled a u-turn right in the middle of traffic, without slowing, causing a wave of honks, four shaken fists, and one finger stuck out a window. “No.”

He seem to consider letting me do that for a second, then said “Actually, since I'm driving you home, your gonna have to tell me.” I frowned. Don't know how far I am from home. And I was presently stuck in a car with him. Shoot. I would have to tell him. “I have this…condition…I- Oh, why am I bothering telling you this? There's no way you're going to believe me.” He snorted. "Try me." I frowned again. "I can... give people stuff. You know, like grant wishes." His eyebrows went up. "What kind of stuff?" "Absolutely anything." “Anything?” “Yup. But it costs pain.” He seemed to be trying to understand this. “Then why do it?” I blinked. “Because it makes them happy.” “But it hurts you.” I looked at him for a second, really looked. And all I saw was someone trying to understand me. And that never happened. 

 So I said, “When I was 7, I still took that view. I only gave people small things. A small toy, a art job on my sister's wall,” I paused to smile. “A dollar for my friend for snack time at school. I made my dad's papers dry safely without ruining them once. The pain wasn't too bad, some small pain in my hand, a stomach ache, a light headache. Sometimes I could even double up to get one point of pain. Then my little sister got diagnosed with cancer. At first, I was too scared to do anything. I usually only helped people with colds, scrapes, small cuts. I hoped Chemotherapy would heal her. But I watched her go through so much pain and I couldn't stand it. Instead of her getting better, she was getting worse." I paused. 

 "She just sat in the hospital, watching Disney movies. Her favorite movie was Cinderella." I paused to smile. "Which was- still is my least favorite. I asked her why she liked it so much. She told me she didn't actually like Cinderella. She just liked the fairy godmother." I stopped again, deep in thought. "She always said Cinderella wasn't the hero of the story, the fairy Godmother was. She thought the story should be rewritten so that the godmother got a happily ever after."

 "One day she told me she wished she could be Cinderella, not so she could go to a fancy ball, just so she could get better. Then she looked up at me, smiled, and said, "Tarazmina, you're my favorite fairy godmother. Even if I don't get better."

 Then one day the docter told my mom, I wasn't supposed to hear I think, my sister might have one month left to live. I felt like I had failed her, knew I could have healed her, knew chemo wouldn't help, so I healed her. You might have noticed, the pain doesn't hit me immediately. But mom and dad barely got me to the car before it hit. The most horrible pain I had ever felt. I kept my teeth clenched all the way home, I wouldn't talk to my parents. They couldn't figure out why until we got home and I opened my mouth and started screaming and crying. They got it pretty quick after that. And my 3 year old sister came home the next day, happy as a lark and fully healthy, too. I had to stay in bed for two days. 

But they got my little sister back. They were so happy. I was so happy. And a little girl avoided a horrible death. That was all I needed to launch me into playing genie.”

He considered this for a minute, then said with the first solemnity I'd heard from him, “The world doesn’t have enough people like you. And...” He trailed off. But I heard the implied, And it has too many people like me. Because he was a thief. That was sad. To feel like you weren't valuable, like the whole world might wish you weren't there…

“Hey, this is where you said you live, right?” I looked up and nodded. “Yes it is. Thanks for the ride.” He unlocked the door and I got out. “Hey, genie.” I looked back. He winked, all traces of seriousness gone “I know where you live now.” My face heated up. “But you asked me where I needed to get off-” “But you didn't have to tell me where you live, did you?” His grin was evil. “I hate your guts.” I grumbled under my breath as he drove away. I flounced up the driveway, fuming that I'd though he was hot.