They tell me that I am special, that my ability to heal mental illness is a “gift” that should be treasured and appreciated. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not gifted ... I'm cursed. Nothing in this life is free, not even gifts. There is always a price to be paid somewhere, somehow.
My healing gift came with twelve Rules of Darkness, rules that I must follow at all times, until the day I die. The rules are ingrained in who I am. They dictate how I live my life when I am awake, and they haunt me when I'm asleep. Don't look into a graveyard, Katia. Don't touch the dead, Katia. Never seek out the lost, Katia ... It's enough to drive a person mad.
And perhaps that's where I find myself now. A victim of a disease I can cure in others, but not in myself. It's madness to break the rules, and yet, I don't care anymore. I'm tired of living my life this way. I'm tired of the rules. I won't do it any more, and if that means I suffer the consequences, then so be it.
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