Ali was born when the Soviet union still existed and a wall divided the lives of the citizens of one same city. He was born into a struggling family, a group of people seeking to breakaway from what society had set for them.
But, as he grew up, strange things started happening. When a young kid at school, people teased him for no reason, mocked him for being the new kid or for peeing his pants as he was always afraid of everyone.
His family travelled, from one city to the other and that was fine for him. He didn't liked people very much, only his family, and it was best not to get so involved. In time, he made friends but the relationships were short. It was then when it happened.
His mother felt it first. When he touched her one day, she felt suddenly ill, trembling, feeling her knees caving to the weight of the body. It was strange but no one even thought the possibility of Ali being the problem.
That changed when it happened again and again and finally, with a schoolmate, in class. He touched his hand when handing off a pencil and then the kid collapsed and everyone saw how it happened.
Ali was tested in every way possible. He was only twelve years old, so he was confused and scared. The doctors, at first, didn't found anything. But a foreign specialist took an interest and ran tests himself.
Apparently, Ali had developed some sort of self defense mechanism: his skin would attack anyone touching the boy by inducing sickness. The doctor didn't know if the sickness was inside Ali or was created by his body. He requested further tests.
But Ali's parents said no. They didn't wanted him to become a freak. So they left that city and went back to where he was born. They thought it was the best place for him but, as it turns out, it was one of the worst decisions they could have made.
He went back to the place he dreaded, where he felt under judgement every single day. He grew solitary and isolated by his own will. His grades weren't very good either. He had no will to keep going.
But the family helped as much as they could and he accepted that help. Soon, they became inmune to his powers. But it wasn't the same with others so he kept to himself. In his last year in school he made some friends but he knew it was too late. He had no intention of keeping any memories of that place.
When he left, he went to college and study arts, as he felt his mind needed to open more, to learn more in order to be able to control his powers.
But, in time, he discovered that wasn't possible. He didn't have any control over it and when people got too close, the powers stepped in and drove them away. He made a few friends, real ones, and they learned about his condition and promised to keep distances, remaining friends.
Sometimes his powers rested, as with his family, and then he could be a little closer to friends.
The other issue, which wasn't a problem but a fact, was that Ali liked boys. As he was a boy, this may have added some difficulty to his life but, strangely enough, it never was. No one rejected him for it, maybe because the people he knew were a bit more liberal than most.
The real problem came every time he grew close to someone. His powers would turn off at first, even letting him have sex or kind of a relationship for a few weeks but it always ended up badly and then the guy would end up sick and Ali would run away.
It was worst when the people were actually bad, with awful intentions and using lies to get to him. They thought they were smarter, just brighter and his body knew they weren't. They just lied. And once, he had felt he was taking a life, or at least his powers did.
So when he got out of college, he decided to go away, to another country, by himself. There he would keep studying and be away from any distractions. To be honest, Ali didn't not believe in love anymore. For him, the concept was ridiculous as he had only seen people using others for their own wellbeing and not to give anything back.
Away, he was in peace. Of course there was always someone in the street that caught his attention or a strong need to hold someone. But that wasn't possible as he knew something would eventually go wrong, as his powers could go crazy and kill anyone. It had almost happened once and the feeling had been impossible to forget.
Ali lived alone, always refusing someone that would come too close. He had learned to be tough, to be nasty if needed. He didn't wanted anyone interested in him and viceversa.
He made some money writing, working in supermarkets, moaning lawns, walking dogs and as a waiter. He had found a small flat, with one room and one bathroom.
And that was Ali's life. As people always hurt and never wanted him but something else, he lived and died alone and no one ever knew how much he had wanted, needed, to hold someone else's hand.