The One Who Always Been Different**ONE SHOT**

The One Who Always Been Different

In a dark corner of a room, a lone woman in her 20s sat across her bed, her knees are on her chest and her face is covered in tears. Her eyes were puffy and red. Little strands of hair stick out in any direction, her hair is a mess--just like her life.

Pain strikes her chest ever since she learned how to think. She never experience true happiness like a normal person. She never get to experience to play outside her house or let the sun kiss her skin. 'Everyday becomes more miserable.' she thought, wiping her tears. In school, she was always alone. She is that one person who stays quiet and sits in a corner. She never talks to anyone except to her dolls or herself. It keeps her entertained. She says that her dolls were nicer to her than the real kids, because they always pick up on her and always mean.

"Why do they hate me?" she whispered to herself, biting her lip. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and she noticed that her bruises and scars are still visible on her arms.

She cringed when she saw the bruises. It reminded her of her father, who often use her as a living punching bag every night when he gets home drunk from his misery. He still have not moved on from her mother, Joanna, ever since the day she left the both of them for good. She never heard a single news from her mother after that day. Her father became sober and started drinking. Not a single night that she didn't let out a cry. She was abused and tortured----he never lets her eat until he wants to----for almost four years until their neighbor saw him beating her.

The police took care of her for a while. Her father had a restraining order, saying that he should not be near for about five feet. He did not succeed in the court hearing and his case did not succeed too. He was found guilty and stayed in jail for ten years.

After that, she was brought at a psychologist for treatments. They tell her that she will be okay once she got recovered. It just takes time and effort to achieve it. But she disagrees, they make things worse----all they do is to ask questions and talk about something----and she does not like the way they stare at her and how they smile when everything is broken.

The psychiatrists decided to let her stay at the orphanage with the other kids to help her develop social skills and to remove the trauma more efficient. Apparently, she did not want to but they talked to her about it. And so, in the next few hours, she was standing in front of the gates of the nearest orphanage in town. It was great at first, the nuns welcomed her in and they introduced her to the rest of the kids. She felt something that she cannot describe. She have not felt like it for years----she feel wanted and belonged.

The rest of the day was enjoyable. They were dancing and playing all day. Finally, after for years, she smiled again like it was the happiest day of her life, like she will never live again tomorrow.

She thought everything will be fine aftwerwards. But, boy, she was wrong.

"Is that your doll?" asked a girl not two years older than her. She points to her doll, which she currently hugs.

She hugged her doll tigthly, not wanting to lose it from her grasps. "It's pretty." the girl smiled and she smiled back.

"It's prettier if it's mine!" the girl snatched the doll away from her. Children began to chant one by one around her. She began to panic; she reached for her doll but the girl passed it to another kid, and then passed it again to another, then another, until she stopped chasing for her doll.

The children's laughter filled her ears. They say things unpleasant to hear for her. She covered her ears to prevent from hearing the words, but no matter how hard she cover her ears, she still hear the voices around her----judging and mocking at her. Tears began to fall from her eyes, and she kneeled down on the floor.