I wish I wasn’t alive. I do my best to fulfill that wish by being as invisible as possible;  which for me isn’t much of a challenge. I blend into any surrounding, my skin transforms to match any surface that I’m up against, whether it’s your grandma’s hideous floral wallpaper or the lifeless color of the school halls. This gift, this curse is the reason I would rather be dead. This gift is a curse since I can’t completely control it and this “power” is attached to my emotions and if any get too high I’ll turn into a human chameleon without any warning. I live in constant fear and carry the burden of forever looking over my shoulder incase my secret’s found out. I’m different and where I come from different is punished with a vengeance. Images of white coats and needles flash in my mind. The coldness of a cage travels up my spine causing a shiver to run through me. The harsh scent of antiseptic of a science lab invades my senses.
“Keep your head done and don’t stop moving, don’t draw attention to yourself. You can’t be found out, you can’t go back, not when you’ve sacrificed so much to escape”. I shake away the memories and keep walking down the busy street desperately trying to maneuver out of the crowd, crowds are too dangerous for me, too many uncontrollable variables, too many eyes that can track my every movement, too much that can go wrong. I reach an intersection and wait anxiously for the traffic light to allow me to cross. The light changed and I was free to go when a body smacked into my side and I crashed on the street, a sharp pain shot down my leg and a warm liquid dripped down from the huge gash on my knee from the asphalt. A thick and irritated southern accent grated my ears,
“Watch where you’re going kid”.
Anger bubbled inside me dulling the pain. My vision went red and for a second the street, the town, and the man disappeared.
Silence.
I looked up at the man who had knocked me over and ice filled my veins, a look of complete horror had washed over his previously agitated expression. I glanced down at my hand to find it completely black with a yellow stripe in the middle to match the road under me perfectly. I was completely exposed at least fifty people surrounded me fear stricken, horrified, disgusted. Surveying the scene my eyes caught a police officer who slowly, very slowly, was reaching for his walkie-talkie on his belt.
“No!” I shouted in my mind. “I can not go back, I will not go back”. I reached into my boot and pulled out what was concealed there. The officer’s hand had reached his walkie-talkie frantically pulled it off to request backup. Never taking my eyes off him I wrenched the knife out of its sheath and flung it at the policeman. The weapon sailed through the air and it’s blade pierced it’s target: the officer’s heart. A scream rippled through the air as blood erupted on his uniform, the walkie-talkie slipping from his grip as he fell with a sickening crack. Using the scream as a distraction I quickly grabbed the small dagger hidden in my sleeve and jabbed my assaulter in the shoulder causing him to let out a howl of pain. People fled from the intersection with screeches of horror following them chaos filled the square and in all the madness and confusion,
I ran.