I am not fast or strong or skilled in any way I am different. Everyone knows. My parents knew. That's why they left me here with my brother who is fast and strong and skilled in every way. He has friends and doesn't need me. I do not have friends. Everyone avoids me because I'm different.
I am alone. I sit agianst the door and wonder why. Why am I different? Why do they avoid me? Are they scared when I walk by?
I turn and look into the mirror. I don't look scary. I look…average. So then why are they scared?
"They have come," someone shouts from outside. "Our saviors have come!"
Saviors? Jesus Christ? No, there's only one of him, in many forms though. But if not him, then who?
I rarely leave my house, except for school, but my curiosity gets the best of me. Standing I look in the mirror one more time. Scary? No, then what? My tattoo? It's just a burning rose, and it's a barely noticeable off-white on my ghastly pale skin. I've had it since I was a baby. Unusual? Yes. But scary? No, I think it's beautiful.
As I walk out the door, a few people gathered on the sidewalk turn to look at me, but the others just ignore me. That's the way it has always been. Why are all these people outside? Even Ms. Rinole, but she never leaves her house. She thought we were still in the middle of the Second Great Ninja War. I continue to think until I see them.
A group of three people, two boys and a girl. The youngest one, a boy with shaggy red hair and a gourd on his back, looks about my age, maybe a year older. But his eyes! They seem so wise beyond years, and they loo…different/
They look like the eyes of a bloodthirsty maniac. He has a tattoo, too. His looks like some kind of foreign writing on his forehead, right near his hairline on the left hand side. I don't know what it says. He's too far away...
He's leading the group. The girl, who looks to be the oldest, has dirty blonde hair and carries a giant fan. The other boy wears a hood, and has purple lines on his face. On his back, there is a human-sized bundle, wrapped in some sort of fabric tape.
As they walk down the street to the cheering of the crowd, their eyes slowly scanned the crowd, as if searching for something.
Someone pushes me, and I don't expect am 'excuse me' because I know that people go out of their way to ignore me. "Oh, I'm sorry," someone said behind me. I spun around, stunned. No one had spoken to me since…Kayla. And Kayla was the only one who listened, who spoke, who helped. The girl in front of me smirked. "Sorry you're still here."
I roll my eyes, and turn back to the crowd. "Hey!" she snaps. "Listen to me! I'm just trying to help you out…"
"Oh, well," I said. The sound of my voice shocked me. It's been so long since I have uttered a single word.
She huffs and spins on her heels, not even pausing when she says, "Just watch your back." And she's gone, just like that. I look around, and the streets are empty, like nothing had happened. But I feel it. The dread that something bad is going to happen.