Empathy

Have you ever experienced emotions that were not your own? Emotions that were essentially thrown upon you? I suppose that’s what being empathetic is like. I feel, if I feel anything at all, that all of these emotions I’ve experienced were not mine. I have not ever felt an emotion that affected me directly… If that makes any sense. I have never felt anger. I have never felt sadness. I have never felt happiness. I have felt someone else’s anger... or their sadness... happiness. Only because they felt it.

The situation I'm currently in is a perfect example. Right now, I am watching my friend fall to her knees. She has just seen someone kill her brother. It seemed to happen in an instant. One second, he was standing there, smiling and chatting with us and, the next, his shirt was soaked with blood. It wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have stopped it. I couldn’t have either. There was just no way. The moment I see her face, her heartbroken and devastated face, I feel the warm liquid drip down my own face. My chest is tight. It’s hollow. I feel sick. It's like I'm not even present in my own body. A million different scenarios play in my head. A million different ways I could have prevented this. But those thoughts aren’t my own. I know if I were to just step into another room, where I couldn’t see her, I would feel absolutely nothing. It’s not like I want to feel nothing. That’s just how I work.

My eyes snap open. I lay in bed, replaying the events of that night. It's been almost three years. The anniversary is coming up soon... Not that it matters. My friend, Rumi, disappeared a few months after that. One day she just didn't come home from work.

I finally decide to get out of bed. It's a Saturday so there’s no reason to rush. A quick glance at the blinking clock tells me that the power must have been shut off sometime while I was asleep. I hear the rain pounding on my roof and the distant rolling of thunder. Storms have been on a fritz for the past few days or so. The weather in Suffolk used to be a bit more erratic but the skies have been especially dark to me… since the disappearances.

No one thinks anything of it. Literally no one. I don't think it's because they don't care... I think it's because they don't remember. Every year, for a period of about a week, I start to notice a small handful of familiar faces disappear from work or my usual hangouts. They just stop showing up. I used to ask around about them, but every single person replies with, "who?" So, as far as I'm aware, I'm the only person in town that ever knew these people existed, Rumi included. They remember the tragic murder of her brother, but not her. If her parents were still around, I don't think they would know her either.

I stretch the stiffness away and take a look in the mirror. Just as disheveled as always. An over-sized t-shirt hangs loosely off my shoulders and huge basketball shorts can be seen hanging underneath. I’m not slim by any means nor am I overweight by most standards. My short brown hair could be described as "punk-rock" or whatever. All I did was shave the sides and give myself a bad dye job. It’s a complete mess right now. I go to grab a brush when something in the mirror catches my eye. It’s my own eyes, actually. They’re a different color than usual. They’re a brilliant gold. A shade that could compete with the sun. They’re startling. Especially compared to the dark grey/blue I had just a few seconds ago.

I’m staring at them when thunder rolls right over my head. It sounds like the kind of storm that uproots trees and rips roofs off houses. “It’s going to happen again,” I say aloud. I've heard this same storm before. Two times before, to be exact. I step towards my window and peer outside. Suddenly, I feel a rush of panic, like I'm desperately trying to get away from something. But as soon as the feeling came, it left... This time was especially odd. Any other time, another human being was present in the room with me. Never have I had a rush of external emotion while I was alone.

Despite the ongoing storm, I decide to get dressed in a rain jacket and boots and head out to my sedan. I need to be sure. Lighting strikes a tree a few blocks down as I start my car. I pull out of my driveway and drive towards town. I drove for about ten minutes when I realized that every lightning strike since I left my place has hit something on the exact street I was on, just a few blocks ahead of me. There's this wispy voice in the back of my head telling me to follow the lightning. I press down on the gas pedal.

When I turned on to Main, I see one more flash of lightning. This time, it struck a building. A building I'm so familiar with that I could walk from the front door to the back door with my eyes closed without running into anything. I park on the street and rush inside. The bell chimes and I'm met with a swirl of emotions. Nervousness, annoyance, concern... The lightning overloaded the breaker so the lights in the bookstore are cut off. The grey light from the front windows illuminates the patrons and employees. I watch one middle-aged woman coddle a toddler who is shaking and trying not to cry. "It's okay, sweetie," she says."The storm can't hurt us in here." I turn my attention to the check out area and there's an employee mumbling under his breath. Most likely complaining about the power outage. I walk in, pass a few shelves, and see a familiar face.

"Hey, Rae. Are you okay?" I ask. She looks up at me, and I can feel her overwhelming confusion and concern. Her brown eyes look sad. She takes a breath in, blinks a few times and exhales.

"Hey, Will. Yeah, Sorry. I'm fine... I just got a really weird feeling just now. Maybe I just got spooked by the storm and the outage and all that. Anyway, I'm going to go see about getting the lights back on. Looks like we're the only ones without any power." She shrugs and turns to go to the back room.

"Before you leave, have you seen Daniel?" I blurt out. She turns around and raises an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"Nevermind. You probably don't know him."

"Ah, okay. Well, when I'm finished getting the power back on, let me know if you want to see our new shipment of horror books. Some are actually written by a few locals!" she says with enthusiasm only a book nerd could exude. She turns back around with a goofy smile and disappears through the "employees only" door.

I take a deep breath in and let it out. She had been in a relationship with Daniel for five years. They ran the store together. They were planning to get married next year. And just like that... He never existed.

End of Chapter 1