The false bastard

1

They call me by many different names.  Each name fitting a mask I once wore. The first were bastard and demon, followed by mad dog and monster.  In truth I only have one name, it was the only thing my mother ever gave me willingly.  Funny enough she called me Solitude.  Unlike most people who name their kids things like, Hope, Faith of Miracle, my mother was not happy about my birth.  My existence seems to have marred her beautiful image and she was cast out from her home. That's what the caretaker said when I asked her about it.  A bastards only place in this world is in the grave but an orphanage is a close second.  The chunks of potatoes that they gave us left my stomach empty.  In truth those who the caretakers liked received more and better quality food then the rest of us.  I, being a freak received little to no food.  It was an unjust system but I was in no position to complain, I after all wasn't normal looking. It wasn't my fault that my mother had tried multiple ways to abort me,  from herbs and poisons to even magic.  As a result of the many harmful attempts my body had changed. I have ears that were pointed into distinct peaks at the top, it made many people stare.  That was until they saw my purple eyes, that is when they made the symbol of protection and called me a daemon.  I couldn't help the most obvious defects.  I also had a large portion of discolored skin but that wasn't really visible.  It looked as if I had bent forward and somebody had poured gray paint over my neck and down my back and shoulders.  The discolored skin was darker than my own pail skin.  I don't know if the white skin came from a birth defect or lack of nutrition to my body.  Very few people have white skin, it's usually a pretty tan color that made me envious.    "Hey Freak!"  I blinked and looked up form the small but hot potion of potato in my hand to see an older boy named Marco holding a bowl.  The bowl was empty and I knew he wanted my potato. He was always stealing my food. Predictably he said,"Give me your potato!"  I shake my head and clutch my precious potato chunk closer to myself."No.  I didn't get anything to eat yesterday and the day before.  I deserve it."  The kid laughs and said,"No you dont you freak.  Your just some monster that the sisters are to nice to get rid of.  You don't deserve anything."  I flinched a little at his mention of the sisters.  They were our caretakers and both of them hated me mainly because they were followers of Balen, the god of purity.  I was considered impure and a monster even though most of my problems came from the poisons.  Looking back into my youth I still held onto the innocents that my mother was a good person but as I grew older I firmly hated the damned woman and was even glad that my actual birth had killed her.  I never once blamed my father, he did not do this to me.  She was the one who drank the poisons and sought a hedgewitch to expel me from her.  To bad that when I finally did I took her soul with me.  I guess that's one thing I always had, even from before I was born I was stubborn.I stood up and backed away from the older boy but he didn't care.  He reached for my potato and upon some ancient instinct born of hunger and anger I bit the boy.  The whole entire orphanage went silent at the wailing of the older boy as I held on to his arm for dear life.  The potato was still firmly clutched to my chest.  He beat at my head and cried desperately.  The bowl in his hand became a painful weapon. Blood poured down from the raw skin on my face.  The next moment I felt more hands on me and there was screaming as kids fled from me.  One of the caretakers tried to pull me off of Marco but as they pulled his flesh came too.  His screams worsted and the more blood that spilled from his arm made them stop.  I think they tried to talk to me but it was my potato and I refused to give it up.  I was starving and angry about the way the kid always treats me.  The next thing I knew I felt pressure on my jaw and then a searing pain fired threw my mouth as one of the older caretakers dislocated my jaw.  I reeled back and dropped my precious potato.  My eyes were clouded by blood and tears and the injuries to my head made it spin along with the pain.  I could only fall on the ground and the next thing I knew a swift kick form one of the caretakers sent my world black.

Idk if ill write this story or not. I just want to know if people like it or not. If they do Ill continue it. Feedback would be great. -Makosaphoto