Thirteen Stitches

Nakano Nitori

I gaze into the mirror angrily. No matter what I do, I still look like a boy.

It's not that my features are necessarily boyish- my dark gray eyes are round and my favorite feature, my nose is small, my lips are light pink, and I guess my jaw is basically girlish.

Maybe it's my hair... It's the blackest thing I've ever seen and stops just at my jawline.

But I've seen other girls with this hairstyle look girly.

I've even got bangs... Yes, they're always in my eyes and I'm constantly blowing/pushing them to the side... But still!

Maybe my skin is throwing them off... My skin is the palest tone ever. It looks as if I've never been outside, despite the fact I'm constantly running about.

I finish dressing- teal flannel, black skinny jeans, and completely black vans- and I run downstairs.

Ever since I managed to get away from my guardian, I've been living on my own. And I don't regret a single day.

I shove my drawing pad and some pencils into my knapsack and I head outside.

I lock the door behind me and I make my way to the local park.

************

"Excuse me, Senpai?" A girl around seventeen asks quietly. "What are you drawing?"

"Nothing." I reply quietly.

I glance up at her from my sketch book. Please don't let her...

"Senpai, are you single?!" She asks loudly with her head down, fists clenched at her sides. How dramatic..

I internally sigh before answering, "I am, but I am also straight.."

She looks up with shock in her eyes. Here it comes!

"Miss, I am so so so so sorry!" She shrieks. "You just looked like a guy from over there and my friend all dared me-" she gestured to a large group of concerned high school girls. "So I came over and-"

I hold up my hand to stop her from speaking. "It's okay!" I smile. With that, I turn back towards my drawing.

I listen as she runs towards her friends. 

I stop drawing and I stare at my hands. Aren't they feminine? They're small, like the rest of me.

I don't sound like a guy. I don't look like one. I certainly don't act like one.

So why does everyone think I'm something I'm not?

I shove my sketchbook and other art supplies into my knapsack. While I was talking, some bird stole my muse.

I stand up and stretch myself out. If I was a regular girl, I'd have my chest bouncing all over the place.

But, alas, I'm merely a 32 B.

I start walking through the streets of Tokyo, simply enjoying the sounds of people.

After a half-an-hour of this, though, I hear a blood curdling scream. A scream for help. A death scream.

I tightly hold onto my bag to keep it from bouncing everywhere as I run towards the sound.

I keep running until I reach an alley, but it took me seven-and-a-half minutes to get here.

I slowly step into the mouth of the alley.