Please note that this is intentionally bad and so any flaws in it are deliberate. Also note that, while I do dislike Twilight, I don't endorse Annie's actions.
Aniridia Flowerbeam, who shall henceforth be referred to as "Annie", looked into the mirror and sighed. Looking back was a girl of about seventeen with pellucid ivory skin, a heart-shaped face, lustrous hair that had intermingled chocolate, copper and violet and fell to her waist in soft waves like silk spun from sunset, and eyes of two different colors, one azure blue and the other leaf green. She was too beautiful for her own good. Once again she would have to face her classmates' jealousy and lust, which she knew was there even if they never said it.
After she was done in the bathroom, where she hadn't put on any makeup because her skin was perfect, down to the pale lavender eyelids that were clearly visible, she hid her perfect hourglass figure and overly large breasts underneath a horrible brown sweater that was ten thousand times uglier than she was. She sighed again, daydreaming of a gleaming amethyst bikini that would do her justice. Yet even the ugliest of clothes did nothing to diminish her beauty, and it just made people use their imagination, and, oh, how she hated listening to that.
She strode gracefully toward the door of her bedroom, but when she reached the threshold she tripped over thick air. She nimbly picked herself up with her small, long-fingered hands and noted that she had failed to accumulate any of the thick dust coating the floor. Downstairs she could "hear" her brother Marty playing violent video games, and she contemplated hiding his equipment again to make him stop. It would be for a good cause, of course — she didn't like to be subjected to such noise, and besides, everyone knew video games were evil.
Marty had a face like a dog that had been hit with an ugly stick, and his hair was like moldy corn silk. He committed various thoughtcrimes on a daily basis. Annie longed to punish him appropriately, but she knew that if she revealed the terrible truth about herself she'd be taken away by the Ersatz Corps and enrolled in the Boarding School of Crazy, where she'd probably get thrown out a window by Susan Ivanova.
She knew the voices were real. She was really intuitive that way. She also knew that her unique hair had some significance, and perhaps they were connected. She liked to think of it as her "other hearing": telepathy was too common, too vulgar a word for such a special gift; it made it sound like a disease or something. At times she dimly recalled something about being touched by Nylons.
She skipped gracefully down the stairs, making sure not to get any filth on her pristine white socks. When she arrived downstairs, her parents denied her breakfast because she hadn't come down by 7 am. A single tear ran down her face like liquid crystal as she listened to the rest of her family being happy together. At length she drove off to school in her black Maxima sedan, wishing it were purple and sighing musically.
When she pulled into the parking lot of Forks High School, she noticed a run-down old truck and a liquid silver Volvo. She was certain these cars held some deep significance, though she wasn't sure why. She wished her car was that shiny. No one else in Forks deserved a car like that.
It seemed there was a new student today, as everyone's thoughts were focused on that. Not only a new student, but a new student who was shinier than Annie; in the excitement they seemed to have forgotten about her. Now they were thinking about how wonderfully attractive Bella was, how jealous they were of her, with her dull, ordinary chestnut rivers of hair cascading down her back like train tracks... it was unbearable. Annie wasn't going to tolerate this iniquity. She effortlessly made her way through the jostling, blindingly noisy crowd like a fish through water as she tried to locate this mysterious Bella Swan. When she finally did, she had to rely on eyesight alone: Bella was unreadable.
Not that there was anything special about that. Not everyone could put up a thought screen, but it was easily taken down. Bella was only P5 or so, whereas Annie was on the high end, maybe 12 or more. She didn't know how she knew about the P-scale, only that she did. Bella cried out in chagrin as the noise flooded back into her head, but it was brief, for Annie quickly threw her out the window into the slushy snow using her "other hands". A high, trilling windchime laugh escaped Annie's small lilac mouth.
"That was really cool," said Lauren, her silver fish eyes dancing a jig. "I never liked her anyway."
"Yeah, thanks, Annie," said Jessica. "She smelled like laundry detergent. It was really annoying."
Annie tripped over some of the broken glass, and her books spilled on the floor. Inwardly she cursed her clumsiness, but outwardly she said nothing: she was the only Flowerbeam who knew anything of politeness. Lauren, Jessica and Angela clustered around to pick up her things and ask if she was all right, to which she replied that yes, of course she was all right, wasn't she always? Lauren and Jessica had once been jealous of Annie's looks and popularity, but she'd tired of listening to them think about nothing but that, so she'd wiped their original personalities and replaced them with ones she liked better.
The glass shards made rainbows in the silvery beams that tiptoed in through the shattered, riven orifice. No one noticed the limpid, sparkling debris, as they were too busy thinking about how splendidly marvelous Annie was or how jealous they were of her for some petty reason. The nebulous firmament directed an iron-gray glower at what lay beneath him. To Annie it seemed like a personal insult, like the sky had some ancient grudge against her. She couldn't imagine what she'd done to deserve this. She wished she'd never moved to Forks — she'd lived here since she was only one year old, but she still remembered the golden glow in the turquoise heavens above Spoons, Florida, the emerald palm trees swaying gently in the velvet breeze, the warm white sand that glittered like crystal, the gleaming topaz water; such a contrast to the drab, dreary weather in Forks that only occasionally let in amber slices of sunlight, as if it had rapid cycling bipolar and was having brief manic episodes before sinking back into long depressive stretches. Maybe someday she'd learn to control the weather, to make it illuminate the dark recess of her empty soul.
In the meantime she contented herself with fantasies of defenestrating half the students, locking the other half in the gym and setting it on fire, and permanently planting horrifying images in the minds of the third half that they'd always see even after they died and their spirits went to Vorlonia or wherever. Maybe then they'd understand how she suffered when they thought of her the way they did. She could hardly stand to be reminded of how painfully exquisite she was, or of the outfits she wanted to wear but didn't dare — her glowing, scintillating amethyst bikini with the delicate lace around the edges; her dress composed entirely of rainbow ribbons that showcased her figure and perpetually looked as if it were about to fall off; her ocean-blue skinny jeans with the diamond zipper; her emerald green tank top with intricate golden flowers running all through it in breathtaking detail...