My best fren May Lin says that if you close your eyes real tight and put your head under the blanket then monsters wont come an get you at night when its dark. She says they cant see you. Theyre too stupid. She says thats how come the monsters dont come and get her anymore.
My mummy says May is a Silly Girl and that there are no such things as monsters. She says its just a Fayze im going through and that i'll grow out of it. I told her I already grew an inch since my last birfday but she just laffed and said Thats not what I mean Honey.
That's what mummy calls me. Honey. Even though my name is actchelly Lea. That's short for Leanne Elizabet
I am already on the track, far earlier than all the others, stretching and limbering up my muscles. And, as usual, I am alone. No one approaches me to talk to me, although I can hear them talk about me behind my back.
'Retard' I hear a voice whisper. Ignore them, I tell myself. Block it out. Concentrate. And it works too, for I have a lot of practice, after all, in ignoring my enemies.
I was born with an illness that left me deformed, half my face bulging out in a strange, even grotesque, manner. Even though my parents hastened to explain to people how I was actually normal, only that I looked different, my earliest memories involve childis
My best fren May Lin says that if you close your eyes real tight and put your head under the blanket then monsters wont come an get you at night when its dark. She says they cant see you. Theyre too stupid. She says thats how come the monsters dont come and get her anymore.
My mummy says May is a Silly Girl and that there are no such things as monsters. She says its just a Fayze im going through and that i'll grow out of it. I told her I already grew an inch since my last birfday but she just laffed and said Thats not what I mean Honey.
That's what mummy calls me. Honey. Even though my name is actchelly Lea. That's short for Leanne Elizabet
I am already on the track, far earlier than all the others, stretching and limbering up my muscles. And, as usual, I am alone. No one approaches me to talk to me, although I can hear them talk about me behind my back.
'Retard' I hear a voice whisper. Ignore them, I tell myself. Block it out. Concentrate. And it works too, for I have a lot of practice, after all, in ignoring my enemies.
I was born with an illness that left me deformed, half my face bulging out in a strange, even grotesque, manner. Even though my parents hastened to explain to people how I was actually normal, only that I looked different, my earliest memories involve childis