𝙰𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚝 𝙾𝚖𝚗𝚒𝚊 》𝙿𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚋𝚞𝚜 𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘

1.01

KYRA CASTILLO HATED being different from everyone else. From the way that she walked to the way that she talked, there wasn't a single thing that was normal about her. To her, it felt like she had been unusual since the moment she was born.

Of course, she didn't know that, though.

A freak accident everyone told her. One so bad that she had lost all of her memories from before she got to America. Just her luck, right? All she got was her name, age, and birthday and nothing else.

Nevertheless, she tried her hardest to stay optimistic about the situation, which, thankfully, was pretty easy for her.

Maybe her past was traumatic and it was better for her to have a fresh start. Maybe it was for the best that she didn't remember the accident she had been in. She guessed that it had to have hurt a lot, so not knowing the pain was probably much more soothing—both physically and mentally.

Yet, even with her eerily optimistic outlook on her life, she couldn't help but to feel so alone. Yes, she had her two best friends by her side, and yes she knew that the both of them would do anything for her (and vice-versa), but it was something that she knew they wouldn't fully understand. Not that she wanted them to understand, though. It wasn't the type of feeling she would wish on anyone, let alone those she cared about.

Her consumption of these thoughts made her think about who she was a short five years prior. She had been the new girl at a school full of Americans and she only knew enough English to introduce herself. That didn't bode well, she found, as speaking Arabic in a country that only just had a devastating event occur was not something that people appreciated.

The day she discovered this doctrine, was one that she thought about a lot. It was both one of the worst, yet one of the best days of her life.

"My mommy says that we don't like dirty people like you," a blonde girl from her class said one day, pushing her into the mud.

Kyra didn't fully understand what she was saying at the time, but the look on the girl's face alone was enough to tell her it wasn't anything nice.

Another girl, this one brunette, nodded and laughed. "That's a good one, Riley," she said, before turning back to Kyra. "You're probably just going to kill a bunch of people, right? That's what people like you do."

Kyra was confused, but realized that she couldn't express her thoughts to the girls in a way that they would understand. So, she tried standing up. At least then she could wipe the mud off her pants and backpack. She hated being dirty. At least, she hated being unintentionally dirty.

As she stood up and faced the girls, she felt a shove from behind her, which effectively pushed her right back into the mud, this time on her knees.

Tears pricked at Kyra's eyes. She didn't get it, why were they being so mean? Had she done something wrong? She wanted desperately to apologize for whatever she had done, but found herself getting too choked up to say anything—English and Arabic alike.

She was surrounded by kids, at least 10 if she had to guess, all of whom were laughing and pointing at her, like she was nothing more than an animal.

Then, the blonde girl, Riley, crouched down to Kyra's level. "Aw, the poor baby is crying. I bet you want your mama, don't you?" She asked, before snorting. "Oh, wait, I forgot. You don't have a mama!"

All the kids surrounding Kyra roared in laughter, and it made the poor girl's heart sink to her stomach. She still wasn't quite sure exactly what was said, but she knew it had something to do with her Mama.