I hate you.
The words bite deep. Silver whispers along ivory and sings crimson. I can feel the sobs catch in my throat, as my mind replays those hateful words.
"You've got odd eyes!"
"Hah! Odd eyes!"
"Oh my god, look at that girl over there, the one with the different coloured eyes."
"Stay away from me, freak!"
The reflective pane before me shows me the source of these insults. Gold and emerald stare back at me, ringed with ebony. A single cerulean star slides down the expanse of my cheek. So lonely, so beautiful. My eyes track this slow movement. My eyes, which have caused me to be a social outcast. No, I'm worse than that. Even the social outcasts want nothing to do with me.
Who am I, you ask. I'll tell you. I'm Uesugi Kira, the sole daughter of famous singer, Shindou Shuichi and romance novelist, Uesugi Eiri, aka Yuki Eiri. Before you ask, no, I'm not adopted. I was born of these two men. My father, Shindou Shuichi bore me for those nine months. Now, myself and him are lab rats. Objects being tested in the name of science. We are annually admitted into a clinic and are tested in various ways. My father is, of course, of the most interest to them, but they are just as interested to find out if I'll become a 'normal' person. Am I not normal? These, tests, which they carry out upon us. Some of them are orthodox, blood tests, scans, and examinations. Others, are less so. Every time we attend these appointments we are taken into a room with a piano and told to play any song that we think represents what's happening in our lives, and then to play another that shows how we're feeling. I've been clinically depressed since I was eight years old. They find that interesting. I just see it as my life.
Neither of my fathers know that I'm classed as depressed. I don't intend to tell them. Or tell them what's making me depressed. They wouldn't believe me. They never do. They'd never believe that they've been pushing me out of their lives for the past seven years, or that I'm feared, and bullied by the society I live in because I'm different. No one knows who my parents are. Or even that I have two fathers. It is my eyes that get to them. It is obviously unusual to have a green eye, and a golden eye. I have been alone for as long as I can remember. As long as I've known what it is to be alone. As my favourite manga says, 'there is no room for an onigiri in a fruits basket'. I played that game when I was little. I was the onigiri.
So I sit alone of an evening. Watching my life's essence run in rivulets down the vast expanse of ivory that is my skin. Feeling my chest heave with sobs beneath my heavily boned corset. Hearing my soul scream with agony, as memories are replayed, tears are shed, and blood flows. Is this the way to spend my life? Will I forever be doomed to remain this way? The timekeeper beside me tells me I have four hours left. Four hours until this freedom is lost. Four hours until I must take up my pretence once more. Four hours to be myself. Four hours to remember.