MURDERED (One-shot story)

MURDERED

I wonder if make-ups were made to make you look pretty or they were made to hide your real beauty.

I put another layer of mascara then smiled at the girl in the mirror as I arranged my uniform. She looked fabulous as she half-smiled back at me then arranged her cheer-leader costume.

Her eyes were like dark chocolates which seemed to melt when they smile; her nose was as if made only to match her face; her lips were pouty and reddish that even a lipstick would be shy to touch it; her hair was so silky that it even glows with the lighting of the room; and her cheeks were so fair and pinkish as if all the dermatologists took care of them.

"Will you stop staring at me, you ugly loser!" she glowered as she glared at me with pure irritation.

Her sweet voice brought me back to my senses as the smile on my face suddenly vanished. I bowed my head and arranged my things then looked at the still annoyed girl beside me before I went out of the lady's washroom.

My sight was glued onto the floor as I walked along the crowd-full corridor. I could feel their judging eyes follow my small structure and I could hear them throw insulting words towards me, then they would laugh as if my very existence was a joke.

Why not? I was just a five feet four inches tall ugly nerd with zits all over my face. Seriously, it was as if those filthy pimples loved my skin so much that they chose to settle there and vowed to be with my skin till I die. My hair was a chaotic mess that no salon would even dare to touch it.

They hate me because of how I look. Wait, not just because of how I look, actually, but also because I am one of those people who hate to go with the flow. They all call me a deviant – an ugly deviant to be exact.

What can I say? If deviance was that bad, then call me a demon. I like the way I am. I like to swim with my own current, not with the flow of the crowd.

I love the way I am-- even though people despise me because of my physicality or just even because I care less about whatever they think I am.  I love the way I am-- even though the whole world is against it. I did not want to change just to fit in. I did not want to fit in.

Why? Because –

*Crack

I felt the sticky yolks of eggs traced the skin on my forehead.

*Splash

Then my body shivered as water escaped from the balloons they threw at me.

"Loser!"

"Ugly deviant!"

"We don't want your 'true self'!"

"Just go kill yourself!"

Then they laughed as they continued to throw eggs and water balloons at me.

My eyes widened as I just stood up in shock. I know I am ugly but do I deserve to be treated like this? Do I deserve to be hated this much? Was it that bad to be true to yourself?

This, this is the very reason why I didn't want to fit in. I didn't want to be like them. Because, nowadays, fitting in means changing yourself or at least wearing a mask to blend in – to be one of them.

I searched for the faces of my friends. Yes, I do have friends, or at least I think I do have at least a few. Sad thing was that they're nowhere to be found. No, not because I couldn't see them in the crowd but because they seemed to be one of the crowd already. Of course, they would choose to blend in instead of helping me and be bullied because of me. Who am I for them to save, anyway? Maybe I wasn't worth the trouble.