"Disgusting."
"Freak."
"Weird-o"
"Faggot."
"Monster."
Whispers. My entire head is filled with whispers coated in hate. They're spells rolled off the tongues of witches. The fire of loathing burning in their eyes. They watch me as I walk through the halls. They watch me as I sit in class. I can feel their stares burning holes into my head. They will never give up. They will never understand.
"It's sickening."
"Why are you trying to be so different?"
"It's a freak!"
"What are you looking at, fag?"
They push me into lockers. They write death threats and stick them in my folders. They punch me, and kick me, and spit on me like I'm dirt. Like I'm not human. They can't accept something so different. So abnormal. I'm a freak of nature. They call me names and hunt me down until I'm alone. One day I fear they'll kill me.
"You'll burn in hell."
"What is it?"
"Don't look at it."
"You're dead, fag!"
When I get home I cry. I bury my face into my arms and I cry because it's not my fault. Do these people really think I choose to be this way? That I do this on purpose? That I want them to pick on me and hurt me like this?
Mom get's home early. I go downstairs to meet her. I've cleared my eyes and fake a smile because I don't want her to get mad. I don't want her to start yelling and throwing things. We talk for a little bit and she goes upstairs. I secretly follow behind her. She goes in her room and closes her door. I sneak up to the door and press my body against it. Mom sighs, loud and raspy, and twists the knife in my heart as she whispers;
"Monster."