Marked by the Fae, WIP

November 2, 2017

 

Nanowrimo is here and I finished the opener. Enjoy! 

 

Emotions flowed toward her, and Eira waded through the everyone else’s private joy and her endless hell. She never meant to pick up other’s feelings, hell, she’d been trying to stop it for most of her life. All she’d ever wanted was to be normal, but she was almost thirty and world weary enough to accept that passing for normal was the best she could manage. 

 

Lust blinded her and Eira had to force her eyes away from the young woman standing near the door. Most mornings the subway ride was difficult but today she was unable to keep others emotions from overcoming her. At least five of the men in the subway car had turned their full mental attention towards the beautiful young woman, and based on the unease and suspicion radiating through her, Eira knew the young woman was not appreciating the stares. 

 

Two more stops and then a short walk to her office. Tears welled in her eyes, and she gasped as the aching emptiness of grief rolled through her. Lonely, she was so lonely and god she missed her husband. Taking a deep breath, Eira reminded herself that she hardly dated and had never been married. The feelings of the elderly woman sitting across from her, were not hers, she had merely been hijacked by their emotions. 

 

Desperately she tried to shore up the walls she hid behind. She’d been six when she’d commented on how her teacher loved the principal. Of course, as a child she’d been to young to recognize that it was an affair; that hadn’t kept the teacher from punishing her repeatedly. Most kids, and even the adults of her small Ohio hometown had learned to avoid the pale, auburn haired child. 

 

In New York she’d mistakenly thought she’d be able to pass as normal, but still no one met her weary ice blue gaze. The door opened and she stood to move closer to the door. One more stop, she could manage this. Happiness floated through her and she smiled at the small child bouncing next to his mother. Focusing on him, she managed to make it through the final stop of her private hell.

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© 2019 by Juliette Hyland