Scarface

One claw could change your life. One swipe of a paw, a bloody gash, a scar that would last forever would completely and radically rock your entire insignificant world. A slash across your face could mark a sudden end to your easy, wonderful path and open up an entrance to a harder life. Of course, one's friends would help them, take pity on them, and accept them back into their lives as if nothing had ever happened. A tragic difigurement could destroy your life.

I'm Christopher. For the sake of confidentiality I won't tell you my full name. I would be too easy to spot in a crowd, anyway.

I have a problem. My face was mangled by a bobcat's vicious claw. I lost my eye. I lost my face. I lost my life.

Social anxiety was the only thing that welcomed me with open arms. The mere entertainment of going out in public is enough to make me wretch. I'm pretty badly screwed up. Really badly.

My comfortable atmosphere that I had grown all too familiar with evaporated, leaving me alone, friendless, and raw, left to fend for myself in the cruel, unforgiving, cookie-cutter world I had once been accepted into warmly. You always laughed at the kids in the short yellow bus until you were a passenger on it.

Reduced to ruins, my face was enough to make my stomach boil and churn when I looked into the mirror. I went from popular to outcast. Bully to bullied. I had hated the kids who were different, and now I was the leader of the pack.

All because of the scar on my face.