Just A Little Different

Chapter One -Gentle-

For the rest of the day, I watched the girl, she was always alone. At one point I began shrieking though, so many people were taunting me about never making eye contact, and one kid slapped my cheek. She got sent away though.

I began clicking my tongue while my cheek burned, feeling crazed and upset. Why did they even touch me, what did I do to them?

Oh, right.

I was born. It was because I existed.

We walked into math, and I got bullied again, and no one stopped them. At one point my teacher gave me a high five for doing well on a test, and I was so mad that when our ands connected I curled my fingers around his, and dug them through his skin.

"Gentle! Gentle! GENTLE!" He said, and I finally let go, wondering why he didn't just pull back if it hurt. Did it hurt?

My mom came to pick me up afterwards, and began yelling at me, but I didn't make eye contact, I was more focused on the small speck of dust floating to the floor of the car.

When we got home I hopped out, and walked straight to my room, where all the different textures soothed me. I liked to rub my hand against smooth wood, velvety blankets, rubbery toys, rough yarn, wavy doll hair, scaly snake skin, and light feather, to the point where all you can feel is your finger.

It soothed me, exploring all these different things, because just the textures of what people have expresses them. It's difficult to explain... but I know I like the feel of dust, the way is gently clings to your skin. That's why my small room is always so dusty, untouched.

But my thoughts wandered to the girl, she was the first person who didn't know me to say something to me, that wasn't an insult. I didn't understand, because when I thought about it...

She's the only person to notice my not being invisible.

Is she just abnormally kind, or is everyone just abnormally cruel? I began to squeeze the rubber duck, making a few noises with it, expressing how I felt.

The duck squeaked in frustration, of feeling squeezed, and that's how I normally felt. But now, I stopped, and threw it in the air, watching it land back into the small container full of water. Where it felt at home.

"Krysyal! Your making a mess!" My mom exclaimed, running in with the towel. I stood there, watching her soak up the water with the towel. She was taking away pieces of where the duck feels accepted, does that mean she wants me to suffer?

I grabbed at her, trying to stop her, to tell her no, I want to be accepted, but she said something that I didn't understand, and tore her arm from me, finishing the job and walking out of the room with a sigh.

I stared at where the duck was now, sitting on the highest shelf, the container gone, and where I couldn't reach it. I grabbed my feather, and whispered.

"Hooooh. Mushc"

Like an owl, singing it's tune of wisdom. I would find a way off of that shelf, and make it down to earth. I will make a friend... belong. Mushc. Music. I will sing, I will find my home.

And I won't be gentle about it.

"Mushc."