People ask why I dyed my hair, it was so beautiful.

It reminds me of my father.

People ask why I cover my face in make-up, as if to hide its beauty.

It reminds me of my father

People ask why I don't paint or draw any more, I used to be so good at it.

It reminds me of my father.

As I run my hair brush through my cold, black hair. I think of my father. I think of how beautiful and loving he was. I think of the man who took him. I think of Natalie and that dreadful day. I get ready for school with tears in the corners of my eyes. This is how most days start.

Most kids at the orphanage know not to mess with me. I love kids, but they cause me so much sorrow and the reminder of pain.

I catch the bus and sit alone. I am an outcast. I have no friends. People call me emo sometimes they think I cut myself. I used to have friends, before my dad disappeared. I never knew my mother but thats OK with me. I am a freshman in high school.

I walk down the hall avoiding hellos and glances. I have ADHD and dyslexia but I still excel in all my classes. Suddenly, a girl, about my age, steps in front of me. She had light blond hair that fell into large princess curls. My deep indigo met her clouded grey ones. "Excuse me," she asked in a shrill voice.

"What do you want," I said (I know kind of rude but I was in a bad mood).

She seemed a little bit startled by my rudeness.

"I was wondering if you could tell me where the cafeteria is. I'm new here and I have dyslexia, so I can't read signs."

I tried to be a little bit nicer this time.

"Sure, I have dyslexia too," I gave her the directions.

"Thank you. I'm sure we'll be friends." She scuttled off to join her friend standing a couple feet away. He had a messy mop of black and piercing green blue eyes.

"Yeah right," I thought,"friends" I thought and kept walking to my locker.