The genetics twisted, and I knew it.
I knew they would. Ever since I was young.
The genetics went by simple things.
Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
Are you a pessimist or an optimist?
Are you courageous or cowardly?
Bright or dim?
No, the genetics twisted like old fashioned licorice.
I was put in the group of cold hearted people, pessimistic, introverted, but courageous as anything.
I hate my group, my category. But when old grandmother Anna-Beth was categorized, she found herself cold hearted. And from then on, her descendants have been taught to be cold hearted.
We have no fears, but we choose to be feared, and don't mind it.
I am not like the others, I am opinionated, extroverted, a bit cowardly. And my parents hate how I wish to break tradition.
Optimism is something I find coming to me naturally.
When I was seven, I remember telling someone that it would be fine, that the car wasn't damaged very much.
I was grounded for a month and had no idea why, but I know now to shut up and say nothing, or just point out the negatives.
I don't belong here, I don't belong with these people, I am not cold hearted.
YOU ARE READING
They Call Me Cold Hearted
Short StoryAfter a catastrophic elevator crash, Avery finds a whole new world under her very nose, discovering century old secrets her government had been concealing from the public for years. But not until young Avery and her close friend Dylan are assigned c...
