They were always there. Bright, red and prominent. She looked like she was crying when she wasn't. She looked like a constantly tearful wimp. A clown that took on a hobby of crying. Some coward that cried at everything.

Kayla hated her birthmark. Two red trails beneath her eyes that flowed half-way down her cheeks, one slightly longer than the other. Somedays, they looked like tear trails that dyed her skin red. Some days though, they were sharp prominent lines that cut across her cheeks, as if the remnants of still tender cuts that were about to leave scars across her small clear face. They were hateful, marking her, pushing her out. She wasn’t a Normal, she was an Original. But an Original in a Normal society, was a sore thumb waiting to be smacked.

The End

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