The Crimson Hat
- Reads 276
- Votes 11
- Parts 2
As I looked in the mirror I didn't see myself. I saw a person buried in identities. "You're an angel." "You're a monster." "People trust you." "Such a manipulative person." People today look at pictures, awards, report cards, family members, and much more when they want to define themselves. Me? I have the ashes of past assignments in fireplaces. A trail of blood left behind by me. The people who see me as the greatest assassin, and the people who don't realize that in another identity, I am what they hate. All I remember are kind eyes that are filled with sadness. Until then I did not remember anything. Could they be the eyes of the one person who could actually make me feel something?
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I'm not like the other kids. The other kids, with their pale gold hair and pale moon faces, or dark coffee skin and hair as black as night. I don't want to waste my life, being told to believe things because some adult said so. I don't want to be shunned because I look different. I don't want this. In this place everything is perfect. Adults hold all the answers to the world. It is meant to be simple and perfect, like chess pieces. Calculated and controlled. Black and white. that is how it is meant to be. But then this wouldn't be much of a story. _____________________________________ --hey guys, please give me feedback and/or suggestions!--
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