Different

Ever since she was little, Himiko knew she was different. She knew it by the looks she was given, like her existence is deserving of pity, she knew it by the locked door of her parents room, and the yelling that came out of it. She knew it by the disgusted faces of her classmates whenever she talked about blood, and she knew it from the own voices in her head.

Himiko was tired of it all. Of the looks, the words whispered behind her back, the scalding words she'd find written on her desk. She was just so tired.