Curing Life's Wounds

Curing Life's Wounds

A Story by perfectlyadapted

we've got real world problems


The warm breeze rustled my long straight hair. As soon as the summer was over and I had officially moved into the college dorm I would cut it all off. Hell, my parents would no longer be hovering over my shoulders so why should my hair. For some reason my mom insisted that if hair couldn’t be pulled back into a tight, professional bun then it was at a rebelliously short length. My mother had never lived. She had never felt the sun warm on her sleeveless shoulders and she wouldn’t dare sit in a field and stare wistfully at the moon.

“Why do you always insist on going outside in the dead of night?” she had asked me after I had won one of our many arguments. I was reaching for the door handle when she asked me so dejectedly,


“Maybe if you stepped outside every once in awhile you’d know the answer to that,” I glared at the door willing her to just drop it and save up her energy for the next big fight.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t just sit down and do your work. Do you even know what time it is?”

Great. She was on the verge of tears.

“Mom I already did my work. I finished hours ago. Besides it’s only 10 for god sake!”

I had turned to see her looking at me. Tears were welling up " she was acting as if I were breaking her heart by venturing out at such a ‘late hour’.

“Mom, the greatest minds of all time made the most groundbreaking discoveries by walking around outside, by experiencing the world,” I gestured to our comfy but relatively small living room.

Her tears went away as fast as they had come. She was squinting and shaking her slightly tilted head.

“Samantha stop being so dramatic. You’re not going to be discovering anything. You’re going to school to be a doctor. The last ‘big discovery’ my doctor made was that I hadn’t been taking the multi-vitamins he had suggested.”

I had dismissed her comment with a hand and had walked out the door before she could get another sly remark in. I knew she wouldn’t come after me. So here I was again. Ending not unlike that last fight, I slammed the door in her face and escaped out into the world. I headed toward the usual place. The swings were creaking in the wind and the rusty sound gave the park a wonderfully eerie ambiance. It was worth all the fights in the world to be out here. This aging sanctuary was nestled in the middle of our small neighborhood and was about a ten minute walk from our humble abode.

I loved being alone with my thoughts. Usually I would sit and wonder about the universe or if the parting fight at home was fiery enough I would continue to ruminate on how much my mother didn’t understand. All she cared about was keeping me on the pathway to medical school. Why she hadn’t realized I didn’t want to be a doctor I didn’t understand. The fact is I don’t know what I want to be. I don’t even know if this college thing is for me.

“Of course you’re going to college!” a voice sprang from behind me. I spun around and smiled. He came rolling up on a scooter " it was hard to believe he was going to be a junior next year.

“Hey Josh.”

“Ugh you’re in a sour mood tonight,” he said while folding up his battered choice of transportation.

I rolled my eyes until they rested on the distant clump of trees representing what was left of nature.

“My mom and I fought again tonight.”

“you too?” he held up a bruised arm.

“Josh! God what happened?” I took his purple-blue arm in my hands and studied them.

“Oh come on Sam” now he took his turn rolling his eyes. “My Dad had a rough day at work and you know what his favorite pass time is,” he lifted his uninjured arm and proceeded to drink out of an invisible cup.

“Well what did you do to provoke him this time?”

He looked down at the ground and mumbled, “Sometimes I can’t help it ya know? When someone says something you can’t help but respond right?”

I let out a sigh. Poor kid. I tousled his curly brown hair. He smiled up at me.

“It’s nothing you can’t fix,” his smile widened and I had to smile back. I could feel my frustration with his inability to control himself ebb away. I placed my hands on the nearly broken skin of his forearm and concentrated. I could feel the skin warming at my touch. My fingers began to tingle and I resisted the urge to shake them awake as I always do. I must have let out a whimper from the pain because suddenly I could feel his presence counteracting it in my mind. I removed my hands from his arm and took a step back.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked touching my arm.

I shook my head to clear it.


He studied my face longer than it needed to be studied.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer,” I spat out.

He chuckled, “that’s more like it.” He looked down at his once purple-blue arm. He flexed his fingers.

“Geez Sam I don’t get why you don’t want to be a doctor. You’d make a killing,” he thought for a moment, “okay maybe that’s not the right word but you get what I mean.”

“The same reason why you don’t want to be a psychic,” I headed toward the creaking swings.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I can’t see the future,” he groaned and quickly grabbed his scooter and trotted after me.

I sat down in the swing chair with a huff. Healing always takes a lot out of me no matter how small the injury. He never understands how specialized my power is. It’s not like I can just mass produce it. It would take me weeks to cure someone with cancer. I don’t even know if I could do it. Bruises heal on their own " I’m just a catalyst. Cancer and Alzheimer’s need everything but time to reverse their damage.

I felt a slight tugging in my mind. Josh had sat next to me and was now staring at the ground. I glared at him till he looked at me. Shame flashed across his face.

“Well now you know why healer doesn’t exactly equal doctor.”

The redness had cleared from his face. He stared out at the city with the buildings that stabbed the sky. I could tell he was in deep thought but what he was thinking I had no clue. It was times like these when I wish we could swap powers so I could get a glimpse of what this wisp of a kid was thinking.

“You want to know what I’m thinking Sam?”

I hate it when he does that.

“So what were you and your Mom fighting about?” He turned his green eyes on me as quickly as he had changed the subject.

“My future. What else?”

“At least she cares,” he whispered.






© 2011 perfectlyadapted

Author's Note

I don't think I'll finish this one.

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I really enjoyed reading this ! :D. I find it very creative and to the point :3. If I could I'd read more of this.

Posted 9 Years Ago

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Added on August 28, 2011
Last Updated on August 28, 2011
Tags: curing, life, wounds, superpowers, healing, mind-reading, sam, josh, abuse, drinking, bruise, doctor, mom, dad




I'm just a college student trying to navigate my way through the world. I just started writing poetry a couple of months ago. I've started writing some sparse prose (I think they're more like vignette.. more..