Stigmalion

My name is Dolores McBride, and I have suffered from a very rare form of allergy since birth: touching other people causes me severe burns. I cannot kiss a guy, hug my parents, leave the house without wearing gloves. I am untouchable. It’s like I live in an enchanted castle that keeps me imprisoned and punishes me with burns and scars for every attempt to "escape." I even made up a name for my prison: Stigmalion. The thought that I will be a prisoner of my diagnosis for my entire life—and die a prisoner—no longer drives me to despair. I do not indulge in dreams that a cure will be invented for my illness, nor do I expect to meet someone who wouldn’t leave burns on me... But how persistent this feeling is—hope. What if I do manage to escape from Stigmalion? What if I can one day experience all this: touches, hugs, kisses, madness, freedom, love?