"What defines an accident?" I asked.

The kid looked at me strangely. "Wha- what?" he asked. His friends gave me weird looks.

I ignored it, since I was used to it.

"What defines an accident?" I repeated.

"Your birth," a girl snickered. The rest of them begin to giggle.

"Good one," they whisper to each other.

"I don't know, man, don't bother me," the kid said. "So guys, like I was saying-"

"Is an accident... something done without purpose?" I whispered. "Is it a combination of luck and coincidence? Or misfortune and timing? Can an accident be good? Is it always bad? Who determines good accidents from bad? If accidents aren't intended, then why must they be considered bad? There's a difference between accident and mistake, because a mistake is wrong. It can have a good result, but unlike an accident, it is clearly wrong-" suddenly, I was shoved against the wall, hard. I stopped talking as the air was forced out of my body.

Someone slugged me in the gut. I gasped again. I couldn't breathe for a good few seconds and it was awful, like my lungs were tight and incapable of doing their duty.

"Shut up, freak. No one cares what you think. You're just trying to sound smart," the boy sneered.

The boy. My tormentor.

Why would I intentionally antagonize a boy stronger than me? Because there was something I wanted to do. And I wanted him to know what I had to say.


POV change

I ran through the hall.

"Young lady! No running! It makes the prisoners a little edgy!" the security guard yelled.

I was tempted to shout at something rude to him, but it didn't matter, since I was already around the corner and out of his line of vision. I kept running. "Got a date, doll face?" a man hollered at me as I passed. I ignored him. He wasn't my concern. No, he wasn't the reason I was here. His mocking words hurt, I admit. But he didn't matter. The person who mattered to me, mattered more to me than anyone ever had, ever would, was waiting for me here. I was sure he didn't belong in here. I was sure that they were wrong. Rick Shaw was never in the wrong. He was the best person I knew, easy, no contest. He didn't belong here.


"Hey, doll face!"


Rick. Those words don't hurt anymore. You're my miracle, I think. You turned thorn sharp words into feathers. Ha. Look at me, being poetic. But it's true. It's how I feel, really. You are my miracle. And I refuse to believe you're a dirty criminal. You are't like that.


"What do they know? How can they see what's in here, if you can't seem to?" he asked me, touching my face gently. "They can't see anything passed the mask, can they?"


I found his cell. He was on the floor, his back to me. He was looking out the window, lost in thought.


I couldn't meet any of their stares. I couldn't. It would've killed me to see the horror and the pity and possibly fear. I couldn't meet any of their eyes.

There was only one kid who wasn't looking at me.

He was looking out the window and I couldn't see his face.

Couldn't see his digust or horror or pity. Couldn't see my mangled face in his eyes.

I sat next to him.

He didn't look away from the window.


"Rick! Rick, are you alright?" I asked him frantically.

"I'm alright. Don't worry, Samantha," he said quietly.


The teacher told us the person next to us would be our partners for the rest of the semester. Then he told us to introduce ourselves. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to cry at the suggestion. I didn't want to talk to anyone, not face to face, because it meant seeing their faces and thinking about my own, how it was now and how it used to look. It was too painful. I wanted to refuse to turn. I wanted to keep my face hidden for the rest of the year, for the rest of my life. Screw him. Screw the teacher, screw my partner, screw my horrible face. I wasn't going to. I didn't want to.

But I knew that like everyone else, he would have to goggle at me in horror at one point. He would see my face eventually, sometime this year. Why put it off? This was the first day of school. Might as well shock and terrify the villagers all in one day, right? They'd get used to my face eventually. Well, if not used to it, then at least less awkwardly quiet whenever I was in the room. Maybe in time, they wouldn't stare at me with such a strong combination of morbid fascination, curiosity and awe.

I faced him and glared at him, trying to let him know that I wasn't ashamed of my face and I didn't want his pity.


"Rick, what-why are you in here? They won't tell me anything," I said, reaching through the bars, trying to touch his shoulder.

He wouldn't look at me.


He looked at me without flinching. He looked at me without pity, not even a flicker of it. He stared at me, but not the way they did. The first thing I noticed about him were his eyes.

Pupiless. Pure black. Sharp. Piercing.

His emotions were harder to read.

But I could tell.

He wasn't like the others.


Erm, how do you like my first ever attempt at a heterosexual romance?

And in case you ask, yeah, I have done homosexual.

A little confusing, but I'm hoping you'll be curious and review...? I'll update if you do-?

This is actually going to be pretty short. I just had to get this out of my head.