This is for the mission! Hope you all enjoy it!
I felt a light shake of my shoulder, and I slowly opened my eyes. I found my father sitting on the edge of the bed as he always did. Though, when I was younger, he would kiss me on the forhead and give me a big hug, which was when he would tickle my sides to really get me awake. Now though, he got back up, smiling and returned back downstairs.
But then I realized that wasn't real. My father wasn't really there, he couldn't be. He was dead. Just like how my mother was gone, out of my life forever, as she had voiced quite loudly the day she left me when I was ten to fend for myself.
Rushing down the stairs, I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder and proceeded to go to school.
Stepping into the classroom, I saw that everyone was already in their seats- I was a few minutes late. I sat where I usually sat, in the back. I did have friends and they were the only ones that actually made coming to school bareable. Though, they didn't accept me, they tolerated me.
Classes throughout the morning went ok. I was ignored by everyone, but that was the norm. I delt with that. It no longer hurt. The teachers weren't any different than the students. They didn't know how to deal with me so they left me alone. Though, everyonce in awhile they would call on me, but that was just so they weren't really singling me out.
Lunch was the worst because I had to sit by myself. My 'friends' didn't have the same lunch as I did, so I was alone. As I was carrying my tray to my seat, which was always the same one- in the corner by the windows so I could see the outside, my favorite place to be- the biggest jock of the school rammed right into me, flipping my tray of food onto my shirt.
I took a steading breath to keep myself from transforming and ripping him to shreds. I pushed passed him and ran to the bathroom where I cleaned myself up the best that I could. But it was spaghetti day, and it stained my white blouse. Luckily, I had a sweatshirt in my locker I could use.
In the next class, I was doodling in my notebook, not actually paying attention when I was called on in class. I looked to my friends, but they were of no help. I didn't know the answer.
"She's too stupid to know the answer," one student spoke up. "Being a halfer messes with their brains!"
All the kids laughed, including the teacher. I stood up and turned around, glaring at the kid who was a desk behind me. "What? Did I hurt your feelings? Halfers have feelings?"
I had taken this injustice for all of my life, first from my own mother and then my classmates and complete strangers. All of them saying the same thing: that I'm a freak no one would ever want me. As right as they may be, I didn't need to hear that; I thought of it everyday.
I cocked my arm back, punching the kid in the face, breaking his nose. "No sh** a**hole!" I screamed at him.
He held his nose as blood poured like a fountain onto his clothes. All the kids stared in quiet awe.
"Does it hurt? Didn't think a jerk like you could feel pain?" I said as I sat back down in my seat.
The kid rushed out of the room to the nurses office, and I was sent to the principle and was suspended for two days, though I had to finish the day for some reason.
As I kept to myself in the halls, I could feel the cold stares from whole student body. It was clear I was not welcome here. So what did I do? I ran away! I dropped out of school and never looked back. It was then that I totally engrossed myself in the search of harmony.
If there was ever such a place as Harmony, I knew it wasn't going to be easy to find, but I felt the destination would be well worth it. I didn't want to stay here with the humans; they didn't understand. Even the psychologists and doctors didn't understand. All they wanted to do were tests, and I was not some lab rat.
I was a person is an individual of distinction or importance. I was an individual of distinction as was everyone else. I am important. I may not be the same as everyone else in that I could transform, but I looked like everyone else, and I acted like all of them.
So, why did they have to judge me because I'm different? Why are people scared of people that aren't the same as them, but then they complain when someone copies them. It didn't make any sense to me. A person's a person no matter how small, how big, or how different they may seem.
I hope that was good!
