My only daughter

I tried to hold on as I saw the ground move closer and closer to my face as if in slow motion, but my arms had become useless, and then a sickening crackle stirred in the air. I hissed, an animalistic sound escaping my lips as a jolt of pain shifted from my outer to my insides; I desperately wanted to fight back - but I knew that would draw too much attention to my body. So I lay down, as I had so many times before, and a group of girls surrounded me with disgusting smiles on their faces. They all hated retards, they said - they all hated me.

And though I hated them too, I didn't lift a finger against them. I knew I shouldn't. So I didn't.

A kick to my ribs sent a scream over my bleeding lips, and my watery eyes widened as I tried to escape the pain. My thoughts, though battered, were clear as day. I had either ripped open the earlier wounds or they were swelling again. My head ached, and I silently wondered if there was a sedative lying around somewhere that I could take to keep from feeling all the pain inside me.

The leader of the gang, a girl, frowned and kept calling me rough as they kicked and stabbed and laughed. I fought the urge to cry; after so long, those words still burned a hot piece of wool inside me, making me feel like useless stuff walking around in the world when it shouldn't. They called me evil, cursed by God and the devil, a strange piece of shit who shouldn't even be alive - they called me everything they could think of.

There were about seven of them. Even with the blood in my eyes, I could only see the figures blurry, but I could hear them better. Every time I got hit, my eyesight was taken, but my hearing was still fine - it was the best I had.

I felt another metal shoe under my hip. I screamed in fear for my life as the others hit me in the ribs, but there was nothing I could do, nothing I could use against them to protect myself. I had nothing; there was nothing that could have protected me. Money, I had none. Friends, I had none. Allies, no one would even think of it; in high school I was considered a curiosity because I believed being mute wasn't the same as being human. The power, I had it, but I didn't use it - and now I'm sure with all the injuries I couldn't use it either if I tried. The anger I had, but there was nothing to let it out with. I was literally and figuratively alone in the face of all those hateful and disgusted stares.

And it was awful. My only crime was that I couldn't speak. They avoided me like the plague, maybe they thought my silence was contagious, they allowed these girls to beat me up because they thought I probably deserved it; no one was looking for a teacher, maybe it was better that way because these girls were real bullies. So I was alone and abandoned.

"Your parents created a fucking monster... Bitch, it's like you're ruining the world..." scolded the boss. Everyone else showed their approval by courting each other or something, and I was left alone with my whining. That hurt. Really, really hurt - it hurt a lot. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die and never come back. But I knew I couldn't. They wouldn't be able to bully me anymore, and those idiots would find other helpless innocents to beat up. Sometimes life wasn't fair.

"God, you piss me off..." One of the others growled. Cook let out a hysterical laugh. It showed she was fine. »