The Stealing Touch

By Marianna Palmer

What would you do if every living thing you touched turned to ash?
Farrah Carson's touch steals. Memories. Emotions.
Ever since she was little she has been locked in a basement to keep her away from living things. But one night changes everything when one of her neighbors breaks in. The adventures that follow make Farrah question if she can live free or if she's better off being trapped forever.
When a touch kills, can someone ever be truly touched?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marianna Palmer
• Release date: Feb 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224678204

Marianna Palmer

Marianna Palmer is a creative force who has been crafting captivating stories from the depths of her imagination since she first learned to dream. Encouraged by a dare from her sister, she bravely embarked on a journey into the world of writing, which became her sanctuary during years of solitude, personal challenges, and overcoming deep-rooted fears. With an unwavering passion for storytelling, Marianna pursued her education and proudly earned her BA degree. However, she didn't stop there. Preferring the enigmatic allure of privacy, she briefly disappeared from the public eye, resurfacing intermittently in the company of her sister before once again retreating into her world of words. Currently residing in the vibrant city of Tacoma, WA, Marianna draws inspiration from the beauty of her surroundings while reveling in the safety of her sister's presence. Determined to live life to the fullest, she fearlessly confronts the unknown, defying the daunting obstacles that once hindered her path.

Book preview

The Stealing Touch

Books by Marianna Palmer

YA

SLATE Series:

Savage Tear

Lonely Tear

Angry Tear

The Burner Series:

Burn the Same

Alternate Burn

Burnout

Moonlight Tales Series

Empty Beach

Echidna’s Darlings

No Trespassing

Watch for Falling Rocks

Do Not Disturb

Danger! Turn Back!

Left Turn Ahead (Coming 2024!)

Children’s

Professor Zipwhit and the Dream Rider

The Stealing Touch

Marianna Palmer

Chapter One

Touch might just be the most important sense in life. Many people disregard it, grow bored of it. I never would—never could. I was only three when I lost the ability forever. My world turned dark and lonely. Okay, I suppose I wasn’t alone. Mom said she loved me, and she told me Dad did too, but she never touched me, and I never even saw Dad. I had one other sibling, Theresa, but she was normal, and since I was what I was, she wasn’t allowed to even talk about me.

My first memory was of Mom giving me a bath—wearing what I’d learn to call her armor.

Now I’ll bet you’re wondering why I can’t be touched.

It’s because I steal. With a touch, I steal thoughts. Okay, not thoughts—memories, minds. Urgh! That’s not right either. How can I explain any of this? All I can say is my skin absorbs a lot more than vitamin D.

For me, it’s normal, but I’ve watched enough television, seen enough videos online—devoured enough books to know. I am far from normal. Let me tell you my tale, the tale of the untouchable me.

As I said, it started when I was three, but my real story starts when I hit sixteen, as the years between were about the same one day to the next; homeschooled by Mom, ignored by Dad. I lived alone, forgotten by the world and everything else.

The last thing we need is the school demanding you go in, Mom was prone to say. Disaster.

Whose? I wanted to ask. Did she care about the horror I went through when I caught a patch of uncovered skin? Or was she just too afraid of their secret being let out?

Now, Farrah, you know if people knew about you, questions would be asked. Tests would be done. Videos would be taken, Mom lectured.

I was in my basement—my room, classroom, bathroom, home. Look around my room, you’d know me. Bright and colorful throw rugs were scattered across the floor all the way up to a makeshift room which held my toilet and shower. Next to the staircase that attached to the kitchen was a drawing table where I sketched. To the right was my exercise room, if a punching bag and free weights could constitute as an exercise room. There were two shelves against the walls. They held my only friend, videos of me taken through the years.

The study table I sat at now was right under a little square window. All in all, I had tried my best to hide the fact that this was my own prison.

The door was always locked.

The only view outside was through that small window, and that view only afforded me the bottom green tuft from the holly bushes that skirted the driveway. I knew that scene all too well.

I could only see so far, little patches of sky and green leaves. Still, it was outside. It was the only way I could tell which season it was. Now, a thin layer of snow blanketed the leaves. That meant soon I would be here listening to my folks’ annual party. They had two every year at the same time, inviting all the relatives.

One was on Theresa’s birthday. The thing that killed me was the other one took place on mine. January 28th. It might have been started as a way to honor their children. But after my fifth year, they had forgotten who the second birthday was for. It was just there with no questions of why.

All the laughter, music, and cheers happened upstairs while I ate a lonely meal down here, trying to get a glimpse of the partygoers—I only saw them on the way in or out of the house.

It’s just… I huffed exasperatedly and looked towards my mother. I didn’t dare grasp her hand. She’d flinch, pull away, even if she wore her armor. It consisted of three sweaters, two pairs of pants, a hockey mask, and a hat.

I could still hurt her. It was best to keep my distance. My powers had grown over the years. I shuddered about knocking her out again.

I wondered what she looked like. Crow’s feet? Gray in her hair? Did she still look like the young mother I remembered?

What if I’m not the only one?

That threw Mom. She had expected my argument that I’d be careful—no one would see me, etc. etc. But I’m not stupid. I’ve said those things before with no success. There are only so many times you can fail before you try a new tactic.

What if everyone in the world has a daughter locked in the basement? A son? Or maybe, like, in Sweden, there’s a special hospital for people like me. Shouldn’t we tell everyone? I could get help.

Mom stared at me and then surprised me by reaching out with her gloved hand. She fingered my hair. But she barely touched it, acting as if it were fire. You know when you just pass your fingers through flames, it can’t hurt you. It’s when you keep them there, that’s when you burn. Farrah, let’s do a real quick pop quiz. Tell me what vivisection is.

My eyes widened. Wow, so out of the blue.

She pulled her hand away. Farrah? Tell me.

Um, I don’t know. I think… dissection is to cut something apart. And vivus is Latin for life, so um… cutting up life?

Mom laughed. I had gotten used to her laugh. It had always emitted after she thought I had said something incredibly stupid. No, live dissection. Farrah, you, sweetheart, are something that the scientists would like to study alive. They’d take a knife and swish! Right into your stomach. Would you like that?

I wrinkled my nose. I’m thinking…no?

No. That’s what they’ll do if they ever find out about you. She itched her chin, moving her mask, and I saw a patch of skin I hadn’t before. I so wanted to see her whole face. I shook my head and got back to my point.

But maybe they wouldn’t! I want to see! Maybe it’d be worth the danger. I’m so sick of these four walls.

Mom sighed and looked out the window, letting her eyes soften for just a bit. My poor little bird. Stuck in a cage. No one will ever see your tropical feathers.

I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. I had red hair and fine features. My wrists were thin, and I was small for my age—you try growing up in a basement where the only sun is in late afternoon and filtered through privacy hedges.

Because of this, my mom called me her bird.

I don’t have to be stuck down here! I would be so careful. Shoot—I promised myself I wouldn’t try that angle.

Farrah, sweetie, if people like you existed, we’d know. There are few secrets these days.

Except me.

Only because your father and I have been extra diligent. No one else could be quite as careful as we have been. You’re down here all the time. Theresa never mentions you. The hospital records have been altered. We have done everything and more to cover our tracks. Even Tim seems to have forgotten he had a second daughter. It’s all taken care of.

Those words, so simple! Why were they a knife? How could a man forget he had a daughter?

Look, Darling, we need to finish this lesson. Theresa will be home soon. I promised her we’d have a splurge of ice cream sundaes at Bill’s Ice before she goes on the diet. That dress she picked out for the formal won’t fit unless she does.

Um… Desperately, I threw it all out. Can I come? I’ll be quiet, won’t bring attention to myself. I’ll stay away from everyone! No one will look twice. I could be anyone from out of town. Please!

Mom was already shaking her head. No. Farrah, please. You must stay hidden. What if someone asked about you?

I could be a relative… My voice disappeared. I knew Mom wouldn’t risk it. She never had before.

I said no. I put some ice cream in your freezer earlier this week. She gestured to the corner to the little white box that held all my sustenance. Eat that and watch a movie. It’ll make the time go by faster.

I shook. My heart beat fast and hard. I can’t…stay here forever.

Why not?

I opened my mouth and closed it again. I felt a tingle ripping through my skin. I felt it from time to time—more and more recently. It was tied up to my despair.

Now, let’s try this again. To solve this logarithm, you need to start with, what?

Mom wouldn’t look at me. Her covered head bent down over the page in her lap as she sat in her chair as far away from me as possible. I burrowed into my math. Why I learned any of this, I’d never know.

Wasn’t all this high school stuff done in order to go to college and get a job and live… Live! In this freaking basement world of mine. The way I was, I’d never live. I was already dead, buried underground.

Mom finished my lesson and ran off to greet Theresa who had just come home from school. I closed my eyes and listened to her footsteps walking overhead towards the hallway where Mom greeted her. I heard their squeals of laughter break out seconds later.

I guess that meant Frank had asked Theresa to the formal. She had been waiting for weeks.

I was glad for her.

Which was why I punched the stuffing out of my punching bag. Despite Mom’s words, I wanted to be ready if I ever did get out of this prison. I kept myself fit. I may be small, but my muscles weren’t. Firm and round, bumps I was proud of under the skin I wasn’t. I was a small wrecking ball of fury!

I aimed a flurry of punches at the center of the bag and got more and more vicious as I heard the laughter continue upstairs.

Punch, punch, kick, slam!

I didn’t want to feel, but I still did. Living on the outside of everything, I had never even met my sister’s one true love, but I wanted him… No, not him. Theresa’s life.

I wanted to be asked out. Theresa was only a year older than I was, and she had a dance invitation. She experienced a first kiss! Something I never would.

I slammed my knuckles into the bag until I fell against the rug which barely concealed my stone floor.

I gasped and looked at my knuckles—bloody.

Curse you, I whispered. Curse my stinking blood.

I wondered if it was poisoned. If I bled on my mother, would it steal…?

Suddenly, I heard Mom’s voice get closer. Great, they were in the kitchen. I could always hear well when they talked there.

I’m so excited! Theresa squealed. He’s going to get me a rose. I think I need new makeup. Do you think I need new shoes?

Anything and everything, darling, Mom responded. See? A new shiny credit card just for, um, who is my favorite girl in the world?

Me, me! Theresa yelled. I held my breath and got closer to the door. At the same time, I hoped… Could they be coming down? To share Theresa’s moment with me?

Oh, I hoped, hoped so. I wouldn’t whine. I wouldn’t cry. I’d say ‘yay for you’. I would scream in joy even though I wasn’t one to scream—I kept quiet normally, but I would if they’d just…

No, they were already moving away. My soul dropped and slid further with every step Mom and Theresa made to the car.

No! I wouldn’t feel like this. They didn’t come—so what? I had my movies. I had ice cream. I had the internet for crying out loud. What did I need with people?

I settled down to a movie with the ice cream that Mom had talked about.

I really wished Mom hadn’t blocked my ability to text or message anyone online. I mean, I could browse all I wanted, but I couldn’t talk to anyone. She was probably afraid I’d start a chat with people and end up asking, ‘hey, do any of y’all steal with a touch?’

At least I could spy. My sister’s pages were filled with her deeds and accomplishments, so for the rest of the evening I read her posts and pretended I was her. Someone who didn’t live in a basement and who didn’t steal with a touch.

If only I could find someone to touch…then I’d feel a lot better about refraining from it.

Chapter Two

The weeks dragged on. The party got closer and closer and then finally arrived. All day long I heard the front door over my head bang open and closed. So many relatives came at this time of year. Uncles, cousins, and grandparents, oh my! Not that I’d ever seen a one. They were as in the dark about me as the rest of the world.

All except my grandmother. Granny Daria knew about me but had taken Mom’s vow of silence seriously. She came and gushed over Theresa. Her social media pages were filled with my grandma is the best, look what she gave me and I have the best grandma, etc. I was dead to her. Granny only had one granddaughter.

I could barely see the screen now. The tears in my eyes burned. It wasn’t enough that I had to feel so awful. It had to physically hurt, too.

I didn’t need anyone! I reached out and gave a hefty punch to my stomach—where it screamed the most. How could I yearn for what I’ve never had? I certainly didn’t remember any caress or touch.

I did what I normally did when I felt like this and brought out my little digital camcorder. Mom had bought it for me when I was only six—my absolute favorite present of all time. And I had recorded myself every day since. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was to keep some sort of a record of my life. Maybe it was just to have someone to talk to.

I pushed record. Hi, future self, I said brightly. This is the, like, three thousand six hundred and fiftieth day of these recordings. I have so much to tell you…

Then I frowned.

Okay, I’ve got nothin’! Are you surprised, me from the future? I doubt it. You have the same life I do whenever you’re watching this even if you’re thirty. Still… What happened today? Oh, today’s my birthday! Happy Birthday! I’m so looking forward to tomorrow. I can relax all day. Mom won’t bother me with lessons. I wonder what she’ll give me this year. I know she gave Theresa a nice cashmere sweater—Mom showed it to me a few months back on her birthday. Also, Frank gave Theresa a necklace—yes, I have no life of my own to talk about. Screw you!

I sighed and closed my eyes. I’m making a wish, maybe it’ll come true. I wish that Dad and Theresa will accompany Mom down here tomorrow. And they’ll all give me presents and let me sip some of that special wine. If they did…maybe I could come up and live with them in the main part of the house.

My eyes slammed open. Oops, I’m not supposed to say that out loud. Unjinx! Unjinx! Only you, future self, know, so keep it secret. Then I slammed the record button, transferred the file into my computer and quickly burned it onto a DVD. I did that to make sure it didn’t get deleted on accident. I had once lost a whole day. Since then, I needed it all on some kind of permanent back-up.

I placed the DVD into a case and slid it on to the shelves full of me—I was my only friend.

The lights from outside played across my face, and I quickly turned my lamp off. I slid onto my bed and watched, hearing all the laughter from up above. The party was in full swing, and people wouldn’t stop arriving.

If I tilted my head just so, the lights hit my eyes and blinded me.

I could almost imagine being up there. Greeting people. Getting gifts. I would smile, laugh. My family would surround me.

That’s Farrah, my parents would say. Our other daughter—the one we’re not ashamed of—the one who we love.

Just like that, the vision vanished. The lights had been blocked. A shadowy figure stood in front of my window. Now I saw a foot coming. The person was…

Breaking in!

They were!

Two kicks, and my window caved in. I froze in absolute terror.

What did the person want? What if…they were here to hurt me? I almost laughed out loud at that thought. No one knew that I was down here, or that I even existed really. They had to be after stuff.

But, besides Mom, there hadn’t been a living thing down here in thirteen years except a bird Mom bought me for a birthday gift. It met its untimely death at my touch. Now, I was literally breathing the same air as a perfect stranger.

The intruder boldly slid down, waggling feet trying to find purchase. My heart skipped a beat—okay, skipped a hundred beats. I couldn’t breathe. Maybe I was excited? Happy? Nervous? I couldn’t figure out what to feel.

As I worried, heart either having stopped completely, or beating as fast as a rabbit’s, the figure landed feet first on the floor, narrowly missing my desk. From the flashes of outside light, I could see that the figure wore a hoodie that hung down to the knees and a pair of ripped knee jeans. A rich pair of sneakers was on the person’s feet, but I could tell that the intruder was my age. No grown-up would wear a pair of sneakers elaborately decorated with jeweled skull stickers.

Or at least I hoped not.

The shadowy figure reached out to maneuver in the dark, and I supposed I had better claim my territory here. Maybe I didn’t exist out there, but this place, here, the basement was MINE.

You’ve got seconds to wriggle your skinny butt right out the window you came in through, or suffer a horrible fate, I said boldly.

The figure jumped a mile, losing balance and slamming into my shelf of DVDs, letting out a light shriek. Maybe it was a girl? Like dominos, the shelf fell over and collapsed around her. Aw, shit… she muttered.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I had heard swear words before on the movies I’ve watched, but there was something different about hearing a living, breathing person say it in front of me.

Watch your mouth, I said.

Look, Theresa, the girl said. She knew Theresa!

Stop—no, I’m not Theresa. Was I speaking right? Did I sound broken? I never had spoken to anyone other than myself before. Well, and Mom. This wasn’t the same.

Then who… Ouch. Great. I’ve got plastic shards impaling me here. Look, whoever you are, could you slam on a light or something?

I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. This whole thing was surreal. If I could see…whoever this was, it would become real.

This was impossible!

Mom had warned me, forbade me, trapped me… I couldn’t talk to this intruder. I couldn’t even exist to anyone other than Mom. But here I was. My words were coming out of my mouth and falling on this girl’s ears. I was communicating with someone!

Come on! What are these? They’re like little round mirrors.

Haven’t you ever seen a DVD before? I demanded. It’s the only way to save stuff in a concrete form. And you broke the shelf!

DVDs? Oh, well, I like digital more. Look, dude! You have to turn the light on. I can’t keep this conversation going in the dark. Give me my dignity.

Well! I had never been called dude before!

Somehow…it helped me turn the light on. Then I blinked at my intruder. I was right. She was about my age, but she was a bit healthier. She had gotten a lot of sun, as her bronzed skin showed. A curly mop of brown hair spilt out over the hood of a gray hoodie which had slipped down and pooled out on my floor. The hoodie was under a thick furry jacket. Her legs and arms had been tangled in one of the poles of the closest shelf, and she was, as could be predicted, covered in DVDs and cases.

Who are you? she asked. You sure look like Theresa but smaller. You could be her sister!

Um…hi, I said unable to speak. Never had I anyone this close to me, staring at me so unabashedly.

Wait, seriously, who are you? I know Theresa’s family, and she has no cousins like you, and…

Fear kicked my ribcage and made me a bit angry. You broke into my home, and you dare demand who I am!

She blushed, and wow could she blush. Despite the tan face, all her freckles popped out. Yeah…yeah I did. Could you help me out of this? Then I’ll, uh, apologize and stuff.

I was about to rush to help her out. Then I stopped. It was cold in this basement, so I was wearing a long-sleeved sweater and jeans that reached my ankles, but if I touched her…

One false move, and she’d know. She’d know what I was never to tell anyone. I shouldn’t have even been talking to her. But I was. The enormity hit me with all the weight of the world. She knew about me…

Hey, what’s the problem? she asked.

I bit my lip and hurried to the shelf, pulling it up and letting her get out by herself.

She huffed and started shimmying out from under the chaos that my life’s memories were now. As she stood up, I noticed that she stood two inches taller than me.

Thanks for the help. What are those anyway? I see dates but no titles.

They’re, um, me, I said, wondering if I should be lying. I record my thoughts for the day.

Oh, like a video diary. Gotcha. She stood up, straightened her shirt, and pushed strands of hair behind her ears. I’m Kaylee by the way. Kaylee Richards from three houses down.

You’re our neighbor? I asked, surprised. And you’re breaking in?

Uh, um, yeah? Look, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this quiet, she said. My folks said if I… Look, it’s just better off if you don’t tell anyone about this. What’s your name?

Farrah.

And your last is Carson, right?

I nodded. I knew I should be lying now. Mom would freak if she knew. I’ll keep it a secret if you do, I blurted out, nervously pinching my fingers between my other ones. Now that a living, breathing person was so close, I could practically feel the vulnerability of this girl…what I could do to her. Like with Mom.

I don’t remember most of the Event. I was three years old, and it just happened. Like turning a switch. I had felt…bad when I grabbed onto her hand, but Mom said I almost knocked her unconscious. She hadn’t dared touch me since then. Would I… Could I be stronger now?

Kaylee was the first person my age I had ever talked to. I certainly didn’t want to do, well, whatever I’d do if I so much as bumped fists with her. My breathing choked me. Mom was right. I had to make sure Kaylee kept me secret.

No one will find out about you being down here if you never mention me.

Kaylee stared at me—as if she couldn’t believe she had just gotten off without getting in trouble. Then her blue eyes narrowed. "Wait, you aren’t… I’ve never seen you at school, and you are Theresa’s sister, aren’t you?"

I couldn’t answer. Just go. Leave the way you came in. I am none of your business. Get the hell out! Suddenly, I was angry. Angry at the danger in the room, angry at Kaylee for daring to intrude on my home, but most of all I was angry because I wanted her to stay.

I wanted to ask why she broke in—why this house? Shouldn’t she try a store or something? But how could I find out? How could I ask questions? My life was an endless void of loneliness. I couldn’t have a friend. No one could know.

I headed towards my shelves, turning my back on Kaylee. Let her leave, and let me pretend that my bubble was never broken.

Silence behind me…

She was gone.

Dude, are you in trouble?

I jumped out of my skin. Kaylee hadn’t done as I had asked. She was standing behind me.

Get away! I shrieked. Uh-oh, loud! Too loud. My number one rule was that when people came over, I had to be quiet. Shut up—act as if I didn’t exist.

But she was too close… I wanted to yell again, but I so did not need Mom rushing down here—it’d get both me and Kaylee in trouble.

Go… I whispered, holding my hands far away from Kaylee.

Are you a prisoner? she asked, not listening to me. I don’t get this.

You don’t have to. I spun around her, trying to get some distance. I had never felt so dangerous before. I could sense her energy. My hands tingled like a wall outlet—energy under the surface. All I’d have to do was touch Kaylee and my power would be exposed. You’re a criminal. You don’t want to be found out, so go!

Kaylee wasn’t listening. She kept away as if she could tell how much I wanted her to. She cocked her head as she looked around my room. Is that a bathroom? she asked.

Um, yes. I made it when I was eight. So don’t judge.

You made it?

I got sick of going in a bucket, okay? It wasn’t too hard. There were already some connections for a washing machine and dryer. I trailed off as I realized what I was doing. Didn’t I tell you to go?

She was shaking her head now, walking over to my pile of memories and picking up each DVD and checking out the dates…the times. Some had ten times a day I recorded—some had twenty.

June 6th 10:00, 11:00, 3:00… July 4th 9 PM…11:00 PM, when you should have been at the fireworks display. December 25th 4:00, 5:00, 6:00, 7:00, 8:00. Duuuuude! There are twenty times here, like every half an hour. You have never left this basement, have you? She flipped over a few more DVDs but couldn’t stop staring at me.

Please…

I should call the police, she muttered. It doesn’t matter if I get in trouble. It’s the right thing to do.

No! I yelled, then quickly tried to shush my voice. Thankfully, the partygoers upstairs were louder than I was.

You are being kept prisoner, she yelled. I’ve read about this. I watched videos. This is the definition of ‘if you see something, say something’! I’m seeing a whole lot tonight. Tell me, what are they doing to you?

I put my fingers to my lips, trying to shush her. I couldn’t really answer because they were doing nothing to me. Doing something would signify that they knew I existed.

Kaylee pulled out a phone. I’m calling the police.

This was getting out of hand. I had enough trouble with Kaylee—this one girl. What would happen if other people were about? Would they arrest Mom and Dad? And if they found out about me and what my skin could do… Would I be arrested too? I wanted to reach out and grab the phone but instead I tried begging.

No! Stop! Please. Just listen to me. I can’t touch anyone! I’m down here for my own safety and theirs.

Kaylee stopped and then stared at me. You’re serious? You’re not just covering up for someone?

No, my skin is… Oh, God, I’ve never had to explain this to anyone before.

I gestured to the chair next to my drawing table. Sit, and I’ll try to show you why I can’t leave this basement. My breath got trapped on the way to my mouth. Okay, okay, okay.

Um, are you…well, okay? Kaylee asked as she acquiesced to my wishes and sat down.

Kaylee, I’m not used to this. I’ve only talked to my mom. Ever.

What about your dad? Her lips puckered as if she just sucked on ten lemons.

He wants to forget everything.

And your sister? Theresa?

She likes pretending there is no girl in the basement.

Kaylee’s mouth opened and closed again. This is shit, she finally said. I never knew you existed. This is so messed up. Mom and Dad and I are always talking to your family. Theresa is a grade above me, but she and I have talked at lunch sometimes. I never even sniffed one whiff of a secret.

I shook my head. She didn’t understand. It was my fault, not theirs. "Maybe you’ll understand