<div style="background-color:#443266; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#C3C3E5; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="color: #443266"><img alt="" src="http://orig09.deviantart.net/715f/f/2016/072/4/f/rsz_1woman_308590_960_720_by_lordwizardhat-d9v0ayw.png" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/>★<span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;">V I V I E N N E</span></span>  ★<br/>When Vivienne was a small child, her older brother fell out of a tree.<br/><br/>It wasn't a particularly large or dangerous tree, but a short, easily climable oak that had been firmly chainsawed into submission. In any case, her brother did fall out of the tree, and landed quite harshly.<br/><br/>Her brother Jordan was ten years old, and completely allowed to play in the backyard of the Locke family's house all by himself. They lived in a somewhat peaceful suburb, and the tree didn't seem very dangerous after all. Vivienne was too young to play in the backyard by herself, and so she sat in the living room, chubby dark hands clutching a toy train while her parents listened to the radio. They couldn't see the backyard from the living room, and so Jordan fell with no one to watch, dropping to the ground right on his left leg and breaking it neatly. Yet, despite not seeing, Vivienne felt it. She felt Jordan's fear, helplessness, and even a little bit of pain. Being a toddler, she didn't quite understand the situation, but it was clear enough that it was something to cry about. She dropped her toy train and began howling, bawling her eyes out and clutching her left leg. Her parents rushed to her side, concerned and worried, but Vivienne shook her chocolate curls and cried her brother's name, pointing to the backyard. Her bewildered mother left her husband to take care of Vivienne while she looked on Jordan. Sure enough, she found him on the ground, clutching his left leg in the same manner as Vivienne. <br/><br/>Jordan was brought to a nearby hospital and his leg healed nicely. Vivienne's parents assumed it was a coincidence, that perhaps Vivienne heard Jordan's cries. But she didn't.<br/><br/>As Vivienne grew older, she began to understand her special talent. It was hard to ignore, especially at school, when she could feel everyone's individual worries, fears, heartbreaks, pounding in her head and pushing out her own thoughts. It made her want to vomit, and occasionally she did, chalking it up to her parents and teachers as simply a sensitive stomach. While of course she felt others' negative emotions, she felt positive ones as well, experiencing joys normally incomprehensible to a child. In this way Vivienne became attracted to more optimistic people, and strived to be optimistic herself.<br/><br/>Despite her attempts to make friends, Vivienne was often shunned by her classmates because it seemed she knew everyone's secrets. When Lily Rodgers was worried about a geography project, Vivienne gave her a thumbs up and word of advice. When Susan Shear was conflicted between two boys that liked her, Vivienne recommended a sound course of action. When Emma Zippoli's baby sister was born Vivienne congratulated her with her signature front-tooth gapped grin. All those things Vivienne knew, before they had told anyone. Whispers around the classroom suggested that she was a witch who could see into people's very souls, and sometimes Vivienne believed it.<br/><br/>Vivienne only ever wanted to help people. As she developed more understanding and control over her gift, she began feeling more carefully, no longer needing to vomit every time there was a crowd. She spoke little of people's 'secrets' but still help the best she could, in a roundabout manner. Vivienne was a lover of being organized and having lists, so when she was 10 she wrote one on everything she knew about her gift.</span></div><br/><div style="background-color:#FFFFFF; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #000000"><span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;">1. I can feel others' emotions when I see them.<br/>2. I can feel others' emotions strongly when I'm near them.<br/>3. I can see the causer of the emotion when I look into their eyes. Usually:<br/>a) a person<br/>b) an event (test, party, etc)<br/>c) an object<br/>d) <span style="text-decoration: underline">themselves</span><br/>4. I can 'give' them an emotion when I look into their eyes. Through the processes of:<br/>a) emotional suggestion (hope, excitement)<br/>b) thought suggestion ('it'll be okay' / 'only three more hours!')<br/>5. I can transfer physical pain to myself.<br/>6. I can't read a person's thoughts.<br/>7. I become tired and nauseous after feeling others' emotion for too long: don't stay in public places for long periods of time!<br/>8. I get a headache using 3, 4, and 5 repeatedly<br/><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">8. I am not a freak</span></span></span></span></span></div><br/><div style="background-color:#C3C3E5; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="color: #443266">40 years after Vivienne wrote that list, she sat on a bench overlooking a plastic playground. When her children were growing up, she realized that playgrounds and parks were places of positive energy, and began to go near them more often when she needed a release from her troubles. Even though her children were now grown and on their own, she still went to the playground just outside her flat complex. Perhaps if she were a man it might have seemed strange, but who would be suspicious of a 50 year old, slightly pudgy black woman sitting on a bench near the park every so often? No one had complained so far. <br/><br/>Of course, children weren't always happy. Sometimes they would cry or fuss or have worries, but their problems were so very simple to Vivienne, unlike the problems of her patients. Earlier that day Vivienne had listened to a woman who had lost her infant son and husband in a car crash. Vivienne had done her best to console the woman verbally, and sent an aura of peace through her to end the session. More often than not the positive emotions Vivienne sent to the grieving were swallowed up by the darkness, unless the receiver was willing to care for it. <br/><br/>Vivienne was reading a murder mystery novel, smiling softly at the shrieks of joy from the kids on the playground. Books and TV were so strange to her, as she couldn't feel what the characters were feeling. With her power in reality she could have easily known who the murderer was, but with them being simply words on a page, she couldn't. Perhaps that was why she loved mysteries so much. Finally, unanswered questions! TV similarly messed with her mind. She imagined, as she watched a soap or the newest sci-fi movie, that how she felt watching them was how normal people felt all their lives.<br/><br/>Suddenly Vivienne's head snapped back as she sensed distress. She dropped her book on the bench and rushed to the playground. A little girl had fallen off one of the beams and scraped her knees. Vivienne knelt next to the girl. "Are you okay?" She asked, focusing on the girl's tear-filled eyes. Vivienne calmed the girl, and eased the pain in her knees. Vivienne's knees prickled from the transfer. Children had such a low pain tolerance, or simply cried for attention.<br/><br/>The girl nodded just as a woman carrying a large bag rushed up and dropped next to them. "Ohhh, sweetheart, are you alright?" the woman asked. The girl who fell was her daughter, it seemed. The girl nodded and wiped away her tears, brushing the gravel off her pants. "Thank goodness." The woman turned to Vivienne. She seemed too young to be a mother, but Vivienne wasn't one to judge. "Thank you sooo much," the woman said, adjusting her bag straps and standing up. <br/><br/>Vivienne lifted from her squat. "It's no problem," she replied, looking in the woman's eyes. Concern and gratitude ebbed from her. <br/><br/>"Look, I know this is kind of stupid to like, pay you or anything," the woman said abruptly, rifling through her bag in a haphazard manner, "but I've had this gift card to a coffee shop - gift from a friend, y'know? - and I've been trying to get rid of it forever. Do you drink coffee?" The woman held the card out, smiling sheepishly. <br/><br/>Vivienne stared down at the card in slight surprise. The woman's words and feelings seemed aligned, so Vivienne took the card with a thank you and a nod before walking back to her bench. She picked up her book, glad that no one had taken it, and decided to return home. Before she left she hesitated, and turned to thank the woman, but both her and the child were gone. Vivienne frowned. It was strange for them to have gone from her site so quickly, as the playground was a very open area. Some people were fast, she supposed.<br/><br/>It wasn't a long walk to her flat, only taking a few minutes. Vivienne certainly wasn't out of shape, she was simply shapely. She had always been a sturdy size, albeit on the short side. She had been teased about her weight when she was a child, but learned very easily not to take things personally because of her ability. Often the bullies on the playground had bigger bullies in their mind.<br/><br/>Vivienne walked up several flights of stairs. The elevator was broken, and it had been for some time. She didn't live in a particularly bad area, but it was certainly one for the working poor. She had always understood the phrase "smell of desperation" all too well. Often times second-hand emotions Vivienne encountered were coupled with some sort of sense, like smell, taste, or simply the idea of a colour came to mind. She had researched it once, curled up on her swivel chair, tea in hand, short fingernails clacking away at the keyboard of her laptop. She was surprised to discover it was a real condition, known as synesthesia. She never felt it as acutely as it had described on the web sites she had found, but the aspect was certainly there.<br/><br/>The hallway to her group of flats was unusually quiet as Vivienne reached into the pocket of her tan cardigan for keys. They jangled lightly, the sound sending prickles down Vivienne's neck. She had three keys: one for home, one for her car, and one for her office. She lived a predictable life, or as she liked to call it, <span style="font-style: italic">comfortable</span>. She was pleased with the friends she had, the job she had, and the possessions that she had. She wasn't a material person, and liked to stay that way.<br/><br/>She unlocked the door and pushed it open, greeted by an empty hallway. Her children had moved, her husband had passed, and while animals had simple emotions, even more comforting than children's, she didn't think she had enough time to care for a pet. She flicked on the light quickly to make the apartment feel more welcoming. She had always hated the dark. Sometimes she thought she saw strange faces and creatures, especially at night, but everyone saw those, surely.<br/><br/>Vivienne locked the door behind her.<br/><br/>Vivienne went to the TV and turned it on for some background noise. It was on a news station. Vivienne disliked the news. It was always depressing stories, of murders, deaths, bombings, or worse. The occasional good that was mentioned got swept away with the tide of dreadfulness. She was simply glad she couldn't feel their pain.<br/><br/>Vivienne prepared a snack of peanut butter crackers before grabbing her laptop. She reached into her pocket and drew out the coffee shop gift card. It was for a place she had never heard of. Vivienne had little interest in coffee but did enjoy a tea now and again. She navigated the web expertly, looking up the name of the shop and quickly finding their website. It wasn't a chain, just a single "family owned business", as the website proudly stated in a dark brown, swirly font. The location: Amersham Station. Not far, but far enough to need to take a car. Vivienne's fingers itched. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to go to this place. It was later than when she usually went out, but her friends had always insisted that she should have less routine in her life. Plus, she hadn't yet taken her shoes off. <br/><br/>It was decided.<br/><br/>She finished her crackers and put the plate in the dishwasher. Like most lovers of lists, Vivienne was also a lover of being tidy and organized. Her schoolwork had always been colour coded and her handwriting always neat. She wasn't one to cheat, and her powers couldn't be used as such, in any case. Vivienne turned off the TV, grabbed her keys, and locked the door behind her. The hallway was still empty. She walked down the stairs and headed to the car park. Her car was a blue Volkswagen, with decent mileage and a big enough boot to fit her weekly groceries. She had had the car for years now and it was still highly reliable.<br/><br/>It was a short, uneventful drive to Amersham Station. Vivienne was a good driver, although she was sometimes a little bit reckless. She got out of the car and headed into the station. It was somewhat busy, with people heading home from their jobs. Vivienne was now proficient at blocking unwanted emotions, so busy places didn't bother her like they once did. The coffee shop was inside the station, overlooking the tracks. <br/><br/>"Hello," Vivienne waved politely to the bored 20-something behind the counter who was busy pretending to stock shelves with bags of coffee. The girl jumped, startled by the appearance of an actual customer. She rushed to the till.<br/><br/>"Welcome to Mystic Moon Café," the girl blurted, attempting to fix her wrinkled apron, "how can I help you?" She reminded Vivienne of the woman she had met in the park: hasty and bubbly, exuding youth and busyness. <br/><br/>"I would like..." Vivienne scanned the menu, having second thoughts on coming to the station. She could have just had the same tea at home. The urge had been strong at first, but now it simply seemed like a pointless, spur of the moment idea that wasn't very well thought out. "...Earl Grey tea, please? Small?"<br/><br/>The girl nodded and set to work. It wasn't long before she handed the hot beverage to Vivienne. Vivienne handed the gift card to the girl, whose eyebrows drew down in a puzzled expression as she looked down at the laminated plastic. "I didn't know we had gift cards," she mused, swiping it through the machine, "but hey, it works! Enjoy your tea."<br/><br/>With a polite nod Vivienne took the card and left the counter. She went to sit at an empty, small round table that was just slightly uneven. She faced away from the cafe, overlooking the entrance of the station to her left and the tracks to her right. People rushed back and forth, ignoring the cafe completely, as if it didn't exist. People were always too busy to look around and notice things.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I've forgotten my book,</span> Vivienne realized, <span style="font-style: italic">just as I was getting to the good part.</span> She took a tentative sip of her tea. It was absolutely scalding, burning her tongue in the most irritating manner. She set it down and sighed. While waiting for it to cool, she decided to people watch to pass the time. Humans were surely the most interesting things in the world. <br/><br/>Opening herself up to feeling, Vivienne watched more intently than most. A businessman passed as a dark swirl of stress and greed. A woman's heart was all aflutter, full of the type of love Vivienne hadn't felt in a long, long time. She selfishly clung to the feeling until the woman disappeared from her sight. Ever since her children had left, Vivienne felt like she was missing something. She wanted to protect, nurture, and<img alt="" src="http://orig08.deviantart.net/714b/f/2016/072/e/a/rsz_moon_md_by_lordwizardhat-d9v0evi.png" style="float:right; padding:6px;"/> care again. She would fight to get it all back, but it seemed like it was too late.<br/><br/>Deep down in her heart, Vivienne was sad, not comfortable. But she would never admit it.<br/><br/>She took another sip of tea.</span></div></div>