I pull on my black, silk gloves that reach up over my elbows.
I stare at the hideous, despicable reflection in the mirror that is, surprisingly, still intact. My eyes swirling with purple, green, and blue. Specifically, rose violet, dark jade, and celurean. My pale skin almost transparent.
I looked down at my clothes while pulling on the sparkly, dark purple, netted arm warmers that looped around my thumbs. My black band t-shirt being covered by a thick, dark chocolate brown sweater that pulled down just over the edge of the gloves. My legs covered in black leggings that disappeared from view by my black, knee length comabt boots. On top of the leggings was my jean skirt that was ripped in places and fraying on the ends.
I wrapped my black scarf with white heart printed on it and a purple silk scarf around my neck.
I drew around my eyes with midnight black eyeliner and I declared myself ready for school. I looked back at my reflection and all I saw was the many people I had killed on accident. Before I even realized it, my fist was in the mirror. The mirror shattered and I pulled my fist back and looked at my hand with the little amount of blood dripping from a few cuts.
I levitated another black glove in front of me and switched them. Nobody needs to see that gory sight.
I crave human touch. I live for it. I live by it. Yet, I can't touch anyone. I was born like this. Whenever someone touches or comes in contact with me, verbal or physical, they end up broken, both mentally and physically, or like most times, dead.
I am a monster. I am seventeen. My name is Bella Swan. This is my story.
So does it sound interesting?
What do you believe to be the monster in you? And do others say the same thing?