"Don't Look At Me"

VII

"can you do me a favour?"

she asked.

"don't look at me."

•••••

"-and you'll be able to-"

I stand up from my cramped position in the old armchair in the corner. He lounges on the burgundy couch that my mum got for a literal steal.

"OK, that's enough. I am well aware that I'm not pretty, or beautiful, or even at all close to normal, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like I'm nothing more than dirt! I have been through so. Freaking. Much. You wouldn't even know of most of the stuff that I've had to see. So yeah, I always wear this hoodie.
And yes, I hide my body. But seriously, that's just it; my own body. I am the only one that is allowed to have any control over my body, so don't call me a little piggie, or chocolate, or any other prejudiced, stereotypical, idiotic, and racist things that your mind can come up with.

Also, get off my couch, and take your filthy shoes off of my floor, because I didn't invite you in here, and I don't want you to be here!"

I lifted up my head, shrugged my hood off and

looked at him.