For as long as I could remember, I was told to hide my unique abilities from the people around me. I was to never tell a soul who I was, or what I could do. I never really understood why I wasn't allowed to tell anyone when I was younger, but I was younger. I didn't question it. Now, even though I'm older I don't question it, because I was used to it. I kind of understand now, better than I did when I was younger. People don't like different. I was home schooled until a few years after I hit puberty, and every day it's stressed that I don't show emotion… or a lot of it, anyways.
Emotion for me is… bad? It's not necessarily good. It was worse when I was younger. I can't really control my powers very well when I let my emotion take full control from me. That's not to say that I don't have emotions, cause I do, I just don't show it well. When my emotions take a larger hold over me, I tend to move things with my mind. Which I know isn't normal. Which is why I have to hide it.
Ever since I was little I have been seeing a doctor and had strange tests done to me. They didn't hurt. They still don't hurt. I mean, the worst thing is a needle prick for when they draw blood, and even that isn't very common. Like, annual check-up kind of thing. It's a basic doctor's routine, at the beginning, anyways. Then I go for brain scans and I get hooked up to these things that get attached to the head. I was told once what they were called, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is. It measures brain waves. Once I'm hooked up or being scanned I'm told to try to move things with my mind. Usually I can, but it makes me get migraines after a long period of time. Really bad ones. If I continue to push myself for too long, even after the migraines start to bother me and what not, I get nose bleeds. The doctor has only done it once, and says it dangerous for me to push myself for too long. We've been working on my endurance ever since I started getting better at controlling it.
I do okay for being in school, I mean, I'm not spectacular, but I'm not crap either. I'm surprisingly good at gym, and at art, and I'm okay at English, but I suck at math and at the sciences. I'm not in any after school activities, and I don't really have any friends. I'm quiet, and I'm that kid that no one really knows, so they tend to avoid me, but I can communicate pretty well when it comes to teamwork. I don't really know how to react around people my age, even though I've been around people my age for four years now, but I missed the necessary points for being able to get along with people my own age because I didn't interact with anyone my own age when I was younger.
I have violent dreams sometimes, of times when I was younger, of times I know didn't happen, but felt so real that it scares me. I used to have them when I was a lot younger, about torture and murder and blood and kidnapping. After the first time that nightmare happened I woke up screaming and I was terrified of the Doctor for years afterwards. I'm still apprehensive towards them, but this doctor I have has been the same doctor that I have had for eight years now. He's basically an uncle to me.
My mother died in a car crash a few years ago, struck by a drunk driver when she was walking home from work. She used to work at a bar, and she was closing that night. We found out that night. She died when she was hit, so at least she didn't suffer.
My dad's been over-protective of me since her death, but I'm okay with it. It just shows he cares. He's kind of emotionally constipated, like me.
My name is Stevie-Ray, and this is my story.
A/N: Holy shit! An update to this old thing? Well, yeah. I've been thinking about this story lately, and I've been wanting to rewrite one of my old stories for a while now, so I figured, why not start with the one that I got the most mixed reviews on? People liked the story, but didn't like the fact that Stevie-Ray was a Marysue, but she was a Marysue that people don't mind reading about. Rereading the story and it's just… holy shit I hate Marysue's, how the hell did I write this? Then it's like… Oh wait. I was thirteen. That was six years ago. So… yeah. I'm gonna keep the original chapter's up, in case people want to take a look at the old chapters to see the improvement… cause… yeah… it's bad. So, hey, read, review, comment, hate on the old chapters, cause I am ashamed of them. I hope you enjoy the rewrite and reimagining of The Story of Stevie-Ray!