Different.Mature

Scar is a normal, teenage girl who really is no different from anyone else.
Wrong!
She's anything but.

The snow falls all around me.
I stand, outside, wrapped in the clothes bought in cheap chain shops that brand you to be just the same as everyone else.
Except, I'm not.
I KNOW I'm different.
I don't find the snow as pretty as all the other people around me do, cheering and whooping, throwing it around and catching it in their hands. To me, it looks like deadly fallout dust or a sizzling acid, settling on unsuspecting teenagers, who do nothing but play in it.
The moment I think of this, all around me these people I used to know are screaming. No remorse comes to mind, only a burning hatred and a happiness that they are paying for what they have done and said to me. I watch, calm, as the snow causes all the skin to blister and peel off their hands, the flesh underneath pulsing, bleeding, and simply peeling away from the bones below. It is fast, too fast for recognition before they have time to drop it and save their cutesy pink nail polish, or the drawing of a heart on their wrist that they're 'definitely going to get a tattoo of when they're older because it's so original'.
This happens so quickly and smoothly, all the way up their arms, the sleeves of their identical jackets spilling out flesh like red sick then falling limp. Red covers the fresh, once white carpet and turns to pink and the snow falls harder than before.
I didn't look at the kid behind me who was having his face shoved in the snow.
They are all screaming, running, just desperately covering themselves from this new threat. I still stand, a small smile paying at my lips. They cannot run from it and most get a few steps before collapsing, mere skeletons with melting bones. Just piles of clothes that are also being destroyed by the snow they fell in. Within a minute, all the people I knew and hated are dead.
I go over to the first person near me, but I cannot recognize any of them anymore. Not sure whether it was a boy or girl, this person is stone cold dead regardless. I cradle their slowly melting skull in my hands and sit in the snow among my bodies, laughing.
One blink, and it is all back to normal.
They are throwing snowballs and shouting to each other.
I am sat on the floor, as I was with my bodies and think;
Yes. This is how I am different.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed