You see this girl in your school, in the streets, in the neighborhood, skinny, wearing glasses, altogether not a pretty sight. you see her, you laugh at her, taunt her and spread ugly rumors about her. but you don't think of her much. for you she is just a person created for your amusement. well turns out the hate inside her is becoming monstrous. But then the real danger comes into the picture. People can change. She is no exception to this. Yet is she ready for the reality? The cause of everything around her. Can she face the cruel stalker when she meets him. Or does she too fall into his trap and be destroyed.
The weird twins, that's what they call us. Apparently we reek, we eat lice, we do not wear clothes at home, and many things that I can't even keep track. It doesn't matter anyway. Or that's what Ryan said to reassure me. "Samaira, we're there for you," he said.
Ever since Ryan and I moved from India to New York, we have been the center of attraction of the bullies. Well the bullies consist of about three-fourth the population of the school. We can't get through a day without being bullied. We will be in the class and a goo ball will hit our back. We will walk into the cafeteria and a leg will mysteriously appear to trip us. Our books were torn and our schedules all seemed to be marked wrong, always.
You might ask, why don't you complain to your parents? Well we have got none.
Our parents died last year in a car accident. Now here we are living with a distant relative in a distant land where we don't belong. It's really hard, being in a place where you have no claim on. One moment we had everything, from loving parents to normal lives. Now all we have is some haunted nights and thoughts, longing to see my parent's smiling faces again at the same time knowing that is never going to happen. The photo albums, the nightmares all made it worse if that is even possible.
At least Myra was empathetic. She provided us a place to stay and tried to fill the void left by our parents which didn't work in the least. But it felt good to have some support. But that sympathetic support was lost on a person like me who prefer a dark place to brood. But Ryan felt comforted. He wanted that comfort of someone being there for him. He felt happy at the places where he find this comfort, he can make himself at home, forget some things. But I did not have this talent that he inherited from our mother. I felt awkward everywhere. Now that our parents died, it became worse. A new country, a completely different life. My brain is just unable to process that.
