Scars Upon My Soul

Prologue: 'Normal'

I have never felt 'normal'.

There is no real definition of normal. It is based on the thoughts and opinions of those who decide who or what to actually call that six letter word. It is based on the views of the people using that word on a daily basis. It is a synonym of 'regular'.

But even if there is no true definition of it, I know I'm not it.

I have no idea why. Perhaps it's the strange looks I am granted wherever I go, even if I blend in with the crowd. Perhaps it's the awkward conversations my parents have at night, hushed and whispered, about my obvious uniqueness, even if they know I can hear them. Or perhaps it's the fact that the only friends I have at my school are those who pity the fact that I have no one else, even if they still act as if they love being around me.

I have never looked 'normal'.

Whenever I look in the mirror in the morning, I've noticed it. The weird way my ears are shaped. The luminosity of my colourful eyes. My pale skin. Everyone wants skin like me, eyes like me, a beautifully shaped face like me, and yet they still shy away whenever I am near. Why is that you may ask?

I have no idea.

I have never been 'normal'.

Instead of watching movies or partying, I would much rather lock myself in my room and either complete homework, or get lost in the world of one of my books, or hang out with my friend Eve for a night. Instead of the heels the rest of the female population of my school wear, I'd much rather sport my Converse. Instead of makeup being splattered on my face, I'd much rather leave my blank slate blank. Instead of clothes, I can barely fit into, I'd much rather a soft pair of jeans or leggings and an oversized hoodie.

Why you may ask?

I have no idea.

I have never felt 'normal'. And I ask myself why every day. Why do I over analyze things? Why do I have great friends, and yet feel like I don't? Why do I feel as if my parents are talking behind my back, even when they aren't? Why do I wear clothes that are not in style, and still feel foreign in them? Why do my facial features all take on a slightly slanted look, that all make me look beautiful, and yet I don't think they do? And why is there always a thrum in my veins, as if my heart is a wild animal chained by my arteries into my body, that wants to break loose and be free? Why is there a crackle in my fingers when I subconsciously think of it? Why am I feel so different, and yet am the same as the people around me?

Well, I thought I could eventually answer all of these questions on my own, by myself, as I grew up. I figured it was simply my teenage brain going crazy. I thought that it would all straighten out eventually, and I'd fit right back into the puzzle of life perfectly once I got it all put back together.

That was until a knock came at my door, asking for a certain Hazlynn Shiagila. That was until I came to the door to see a tall man dressed in black, smiling at my parents. That was until that man dragged me away from my home, my family, my friends, loaded me into a car and changed my life forever. That was until I never saw my parents again. That was until I was tortured for twenty-eight months, to find that different 'something' in me. That was until I escaped and found my home decimated and changed into a foreign beauty that I no longer knew.

That was until I realized that I was never going to be 'normal'. That I was never meant to be 'normal'.

I am Hazlynn Shiagila, and I am not 'normal'.

A/N

Hey guys! New story! Hope you like it so far! It does get fairly violent and triggering after the first few chapters because of the brief descriptions of her torture, so just be aware of that. I hope you guys enjoy this anyway.

- Ries Medawar