Stitches of Black blood Ever since I was born, I had been an outcast, partly because I come from the Hale family, a group known for their wealth and their tendency to please others while looking down on outsiders. It may also be because of my white hair, which stands out since neither my father nor mother have it. My mom always said it was as white as snow. But after I turned four, my mom and dad separated. My mom left, saying she didn't want a whiny husband or a daughter she considered a mistake. “Kat! Get up, you're going to be late,” my dad yells from the stairs. I look at the clock: 6:30. I moan, “Five more minutes,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I don't want to go to school today. High school is a drag. I hear his footsteps coming up to my room. “UP!” He rips the curtains open, and I hiss, crawling under my covers to protect myself from the invading sunlight. He grabs my blankets and tries to drag me out, but I grab the rim of the bed and hang on for dear life. “Uhhhhh, stop, fine,” I say, and he lets go. I hit the floor with a thump. Ow. “Good, now please get dressed,” he says with a smile, walking out of my room. I roll my eyes but smile back. I go to the bathroom in my room and brush my white hair. My hairbrush tangles in my hair like a war is going on my head. As the brush gets stuck in my hair, I have to yank it out. I bite my tongue as I try to pull it out. After brushing my hair, I walk to my dresser and grab a black t-shirt that says ‘Let Me Sleep’ with tight jeans. I put them on and catch my breath. There's a key in my dresser. It’s the color gold with a red jewel at its center. I'm reaching out to touch it, but my dad calls my name, saying he's working from home. I look from the door to the key, wondering if I should take it with me to school, but my nerves get the better of me, so I leave it and go down the stairs into the kitchen. I grab breakfast, which is just toast with some butter spread on it. I stick it in my mouth and walk out the door. Honestly, I don't get it. He could have driven me to school in his car. I sigh. And man, this toast tastes so good. I take a deep breath, and I see a key by a tree. Was that the same key from my room? But this key has a weird feeling to it. I grab it. It's warm and heavy in my hand. Maybe it teleported? No, that would be stupid, right? Or maybe I'm supposed to have it. If not, I’ll throw it out. I shove it in my pocket and continue walking to school. I reach the school and open the doors, greeted by whispers, the echoing sound of locker doors slamming, and the squeak of shoes on the polished floor. And then I hear Charlotte's snarky laugh right behind me. I get shoved into a locker. “Hey, Freak, how's your daddy and mommy doing?” Charlotte sneers, waving her hands around. “They are still having trouble loving each other.” She laughs with her friends. I remember when Charlotte was my friend. We would go to the lake and swim all the time. I remember her blond hair flowing in the wind and her blue eyes saying she wanted to be friends with me forever. I don't know what happened to her. Why did she start picking on me? “Back off,” I whisper, too afraid to raise my voice. She does a sarcastic gasp, “Back off. You want your friend to back off?” She smiles meanly, poking my shoulder with her sharp nail. All the kids in the hall are staring, watching what I do next. My face is getting red. I feel the heat. “What happened to you? You used to be nice. Did something happen?” “What do you mean?” she says, trying to keep her sassy smile on her face instead of a sad frown. It makes me want to rip it off her face. “Let me be more straightforward. You’re being a b-.” I say, but as soon as I said it, I regretted it. Her eyes flash with anger. She slaps me right on the cheek so hard I stumble back. I feel the sting on my skin where her nails left a mark. “Oops,” she says with a giggle. “My hand slipped.” Before I knew it, I slammed her against the lockers. I see her eyes filled with shock. I punch her stomach as hard as I can. She's gasping for air. She’s crying. Good, she should cry for the pain she put me through. “S-stop,” I hear her whisper in my ear. Stop. Stop what? Shoving her against a locker? Punching her? The smell of metal fills my nose. I look down at my hand; it burns. The smell of metal fills my nose. I looked down: my hand was engulfed in pain. My fingers are morphing into sharp like black claws, and a thick, liquid covered my skin like blood. What is this? As I stumbled back, I saw Charlotte fall to the ground in slow motion, her white shirt instantly staining black on her stomach. I didn’t just punch her; I had stabbed her with my dark, sharp fingers. I stabbed her? People pushed me out of the way to get to Charlotte. My gaze drifts to her eyes.
They're cold, sad, and wet. I drop the key and run out of there as fast as my legs can pump. Kids are screaming, and teachers are running frantically. Not one tries to stop me. I burst out of the school. I run all the way home, my feet hitting the ground with such force, wondering if the ground will break. The fall leaves crunch loudly under my feet .I open the door in a hurry. My sharp black hand scratching the door. All I want is to be with my dad. I can feel tears go down my cheek. The door opens with a slight creak, and everything is broken and out of place. My eyes land on my dad in the middle of the living room with the key I had dropped. My heart gets heavy like I'm being sat on by an elephant. The expensive red carpet is getting painted with liquid black. Is that his blood? “Dad!” I yell, running to him, but I get hit by a sense of nausea like, and I feel like I need to throw up. I feel myself being yanked, and I fall to the floor. My body hits the ground before I can think. I blink away the tears. The last thing I see is my father’s body right beside me. I grab his hand and squeeze it. Then I'm gone like a light.
