They pretend to like me, but they don’t, not really. I’m the strange new girl suddenly thrust into their midst. I’ve invaded their peaceful lives--they don’t want me, and I don’t want them. My foster mother forced me to come to this annoying youth group, but she can’t force me to mingle.
Every day I sit on the outskirts of the room and draw or write to pass the time, but I always watch them, ever since the ‘accident’. I gently finger the scar that runs from my hairline to my chin and continues down my neck; I used to be pretty, but no one can be pretty with a scar like mine. I look down at my pad. I’m drawing who I used to be--beautiful, graceful, a princess of the highest standing. But after such a betrayal, that caused me to lose my home and my family, everything changed.
He’s here again, Julian.
I notice him out of the corner of my eye the moment he walks into the room. The energy changes and I can feel his gaze on me, watching me. Why, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m always here, but somehow not. I’m somewhere far away, somewhere no one can reach me.
He walks closer, and I pretend not to notice him, pretend to be a normal girl with normal senses. Ever since the government took me in, I’ve always pretended. It’s safer that way, for them and for me.
If they ever find me. . . . . .
He’s right behind me now.
I’ve finished my first drawing and start drawing another, my mother. If people though I was beautiful then my mother was a goddess, a goddess of beauty, strength, intelligence, and nobility. He watches me in silence as I sketch. My mother’s face appears under my fingers as if by magic.
Ever since I was little, I loved drawing and after a few years I could capture any one or thing I saw with paper and pen. I stop and stare down at the page, my mother stares back up at me, as if alive, oh if only, if only she were here! She would know how to fix things, but it’s just me, all alone with no one to trust.
I feel him stir behind me, “She’s beautiful,” He whispers softly, as if I am a horse easily startled, a wild animal;
It’s true, I am a wild thing. I will never trust anyone again; it only hurts and gets you and everyone you love killed.
He turns around and looks at me through dark brown eyes that seem to see right through me.
“Who was she?” His voice is still a whisper. He bends his knees and catches my eyes with his, trying, begging me to break my silence.
I stare back defiantly; it’ll never work, I’m too stubborn, too wary, paranoid even, but I know the truth. To believe in people only results in pain and loss. I’ll never let anyone in again. There’s too much risk, too much to lose.
The rest of the group are calling him now, the girls because he is handsome and sweet, the boys because he is fun and tough. Oh, I see things, because I’m not a part of them, especially the way they look at me, with disgust, loathing, fear.
I drop my head and let my hair cover my face.
“Julian!” they call, “Leave the freak and come play, man!”
A faint smile cracks my face. Freak, an apt name though they know it not.
“Leave the ice queen be, dude, she’ll freeze you dead!” Laughter rings around the room, coming from everyone except Julian. He just looks at them with revulsion and turns his back. Once he does that the laughter quickly fades. They’re unsure now, confused. Julian is the leader, the alfa, and they don’t like him taking an interest in me.
He kneels and says sorry, but I barely hear him; ice queen, I like it. I am a Queen now with my family dead. I like the irony.
Julian’s looking at me strangely now, and I realize I’ve lifted my head and I’m still smiling; he must be confused; normal people don’t smile when they are being bullied. I grin wider showing the tips of my teeth in a very wolfish smile. I stare up at Julian through my hair; I look feral I know I can see it in his face.
The group behind us starts muttering. It’s what I wanted. Julian turns to look at them then back at me. he stands and there’s a strange emotion on his face. He’s sorry, sorry for the attention he brought to me.
It confuses me. Why would anyone be sorry for that? Especially when it’s me? It makes no sense; he makes no sense.
He heads back towards his friends--no, not friends, more like followers, groupies; they want what he has but they don’t give anything in return.
I look back down at my pad, but keep them in my peripheries. It’s what kept me alive while everyone else died. I’ve started another drawing, this time without my conscious thought. I watch as the outline of a man forms, cloaked in darkness he has no face, only a body with a dragon tattoo; how I’ve searched for that tattoo never to find it.
There are many different dragon tattoos’ out there, but none like this one; it’s too dangerous, too real and yet so mythical. I draw a close up and stare at it, hoping somehow, it’ll give me a clue and show me the way to my family’s murderers.
I sigh and look away. It never works. All it’s ever brought me is pain and destruction. My first foster family gave me back once they found I’d been to every tattoo parlour in the surrounding areas, after dark; I was only ten at the time.
No, actually, they could live with that, they were nice, but when I burned down the tool shed in the back yard, to see how it could be done, that’s when they gave me back.
I never even got to say goodbye, people can really move when they’re frightened.
I had the classic run of foster homes; some good, most were bad. I’m 18 now and this is my last foster family, or I should say, foster mother as it’s only her, Miss Melody Green, such a sweet name for one tough young lady.
Finally, I hear a familiar voice call my name. “Snow. It’s time to go, did you have fun?”
A gorgeous young woman with curly long blonde hair walks up to me. She makes her way through the crowd and they part for her without conscious thought. She has the true essence of a Queen, like my mother--and me, a voice whispers in my head.
Once maybe, but no longer. That part of me is long since buried, now I move unseen, unnoticed, and I prefer it.
All the boys stare; they can’t help it, and who, really, can blame them? Miss Melody is tall, curvy and has the most beautiful features known to man; she’s striking and perfect, the absolute opposite of raven me.
My parents didn’t know how right they were to name me Raven-Snow; a strange name to be sure, but Raven was my godmother and Snow a family name. It suits me, my hair is raven black, straight and long, I haven’t cut it since ‘it’ happened; my skin has always been pale and even in Australia where the sun shines so bright, I’m white, a strange genetic of my family. I’m around the average height, not too tall nor too short, my eyes are a very startling green, well, one is, the other is sapphire blue; before the fire, before the scar, they made me pretty, unique even, beautiful, some people said, but now, coupled with my scar, they make me look wild, untamed, dangerous.
Which I guess I should be grateful for, for it keeps nice, nosey, helpful people away, away from me and from the pain I bring with me.
I used to be concerned about how I looked. I dressed nice, did my hair to cover my scar, pretended to be no one. I still do, but in a different way. I dress to scare, and make people leave me alone. And it works, well, on most people, apart from anomalies like Miss Melody, who wants’ me to ‘renter society’, and Julian, the first teen in five years to approach me voluntarily.
Why, I don’t know, maybe he just wanted a reaction out of the freak girl. I’m sure that’s it, at least, I hope so. Anything else would be so much worse, that he actually wanted to know about me, or be friends.
It’s too dangerous for anyone to be near me. I refuse to let a tragedy happen again, because of my naivety, my stupidity.
Miss Melody is standing in front of me now, a smile fixed on her beautiful face. “Snow?” I quickly close my pad before she sees my drawings, my madness.
I stand and follow her to the door. Trailing in her wake like a dingy servant behind a graceful Queen.
Oh, if only they knew! They treat me like the scum of the earth, but if they knew the truth, they would be singing a different tune. See, I really am royal. I am legally a Queen now, with the rest of my family dead. I’m the next in line to the throne of a small kingdom in Europe.
A kingdom now ruled by usurpers, liars, murderers! The very people responsible for my families’ deaths. I’ll get revenge though, for years I’ve been planning, plotting their demise. They’ll never see me coming.
It was no accident. That’s the line the one who saved me used on the government, to get them to take me in. To give them a reason as to why I had no living relatives we used the idea of an accident as an excuse, and that’s how I’ve had to refer to it for eight long years.
Miss Melody’s trying to talk to me, but I ignore her, I don’t talk, not anymore. Talking has only gotten me into trouble, I always give away something important. Then someone I know and love gets hurt, killed, and it’s all my fault. I haven’t talked since I arrived in Australia, not to the officials, government, or the lady assigned to my foster case. That made it difficult to get adopted. It still happened, many times. No one wanted the mute, scary girl for long. I always came back.
I can still talk, if I really want too. Mostly though, I prefer to be silent. People give more away when they think you are dumb mentally as well as physically. Which they always seem to assume you are if you have any sort of disability that impairs your social communicating skills.
I walk into Miss Melody’s house and head to the room she gave me. I hate having to go to that stupid youth group. Not that she knows. I always have my mask up; no emotion ever crosses my face. No real emotion anyway, nothing that could give me away.
The smile at the youth club concerns me a little. It came instinctively. It didn’t give anything away and even helps keep my freak appearance. I’ll need to keep my emotions under tighter control in the future.
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