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I crumble the paper up, balling it so tightly in my hand that my fingernails pierce my palms.
“You okay?” Jax’s voice rises over the rage throbbing inside my head.
I blink at him and find him staring at me with concern overflowing his eyes.
Did he see the paper? Does he know now what I could be?
“I’m fine,” I lie, releasing the paper from my death grip.
His gaze zeros in on the balled-up paper then skates back to me. “Are you sure?”
I nod, stuffing the paper into my jacket pocket. “I’m just stressing about this assignment. I can’t write for shit.”
I don’t think he totally believes me but doesn’t press. “Try to write about how you feel. That’s always a good start.”
I force a smile. “Okay.”
He frowns, the worry in his eyes remaining.
Worried he might decide to press me more, I focus my attention on the paper and force the pencil to move across the page so I can at least look like I’m doing something. I try to do what Jaxon suggested and write about my emotions, but all I feel is rage, and pain, and shame.
Self-loathing.
Brokenness.
Fear.
I hate the latter, but I can’t get it out of me. I don’t want to lose my new friends. I hate admitting that, but I don’t.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
And I know I’m not anything special. I know there are a ton of people out there in the world who feel like me. What I don’t get is why people like Dixie May want to make these people miserable.
My hand moves across the paper …
There once was a girl made of starlight and pearls.
She shone bright in the smog-covered world.
But that light was too bright for some to bear.
So, every day, they’d throw their flames of grim and hate,
And burn and mark the girl who shone so brightly.
Then they’d stand back and watch her burn.
By the time girl went home, she was covered in burns.
And when she looked in the mirror, it was all she saw …
The dimness of her light, the burns, the pain,
And it made her own eyes burn.
So she scrubbed at the marks.
She scrubbed until her fingers bled and ached.
