Chapter 1
When I was born, my eyes weren't violet with sickly, fluorescent green streaks. They didn't have the threatening look that was colder and more sharp than the brisk dawn of a winter morning. No. I had the most beautiful baby blue eyes anyone had ever seen, filled with so much warmth I felt I would melt just by looking at the photos. My lips weren't blood red. In fact, they were a sweet, rosy pink, my lower lip always forming an adorable pout. I was tiny, a mere 7 pounds, 3 ounces and 18 inches long, born at 11:27 PM on a warm July 23rd in the back of my parent's silver Audi in the middle of a desert highway in Flagstaff, Arizona. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the sky, lit by a by millions and millions of beautiful stars that seemed to have no end. If you have ever seen the stars in the middle of the dessert or have been on frozen lake in winter, you will know what I'm talking about. Stars stretching far as the eye could see. Millions and millions of them. No light pollution, no streetlights or car head lights, nothing to make them less bright or visible. My parents say that nothing could tear my eyes away from them as my father drove us on to the hospital. No amount of cooing, cuddling, or tiredness could make me look away. My parents named me Esther, which means “star” in the Persian. That was is my name. Esther Annabelle Stratford.
By the time I was in 7th grade, my eyes had changed from that gorgeous baby blue to violet with gross, sickly green parts, my lips completely blood red. My pointy canines had grown in when I lost my baby teeth, but it had been a long time since I had stopped caring and fretting about it. I had grown used to being left alone. Had grown used to eating lunch in solitude and sitting in the back row of the class with three empty desks around me. Teachers avoiding me, although trying to be as nice at the same time. I had developed an extreme independence. I would go on walks all the time to avoid my parents, who tried not to act a little scared whenever I entered the room. There was this one river I went to to do homework, read, and just be. Water would bubble over the stones and birds would sing, not caring about what I looked like. Sometimes, I would sit on a certain moss covered rock and just watch the sun shine through the trees and make the water sparkle, or the birds flit from one tree to another.
My parents and the rest of my family loved me very much. They still do. They didn’t abuse me or mistreat me in any way. They were just scared of me. Like everybody else.
Freshman year in high school. My jet black curly hair bushy and my head down low, I walked in with just two minutes until class. Nearly every teenager in the student body was already there. Strike one. My sharp, cruel eyes counting the floor tiles, trying to avoid the stares from the kids. They were judging me. My hair, my clothes, my high heels. They couldn’t see my face or my teeth, and thought that I was just some other stupid freshman that would do nothing but clog up the narrow hallways, chittering with my gaggle of girls and bouncing off the walls. They were wrong.
When I looked up to put my locker combination into my locker, the effect was incredible. The kids closest to me jumped back as if a thunderclap had hit the floor. There were gasps and even a few muffled cries of shock. You could feel, almost smell the fear in the air. It was so quiet you could hear dust settling. Nobody was breathing. Just staring at my face. My eyes, my lips. Strike 2.
I rolled my eyes and put the combination into my locker, putting my backpack in and taking out my books. The bell for class rang. Nobody didn’t so much as blink as I nudge the door shut with my shoulder and turned to the crowd, which waited with bated breath. I sighed, exasperated, a smug smile spreading across my face.
“Hi.” I said pleasantly. Then I smiled, showing my teeth. Strike 3. You’re out. Jaws dropped as I shouldered my way past a few people. I could feel their gazes as I strode into the classroom full of chattering students. I was greeted with more silence and terrified looks. I sat in the corner. The three kids adjacent to me stood up quickly and walked quickly, almost jogged to the other end of the room. What a great beginning to the school year. But, really, it wasn’t any different than last year. Or the year before that.
Know that you know about my past, I'm going to start my story.
YOU ARE READING
