Ostracized.

Is this how it feels to be cast aside like yesterday's trash?

Is this how it feels to be touched by death, and invisible to the world you walk in?

Is this how I will forever remain?

Her battling thoughts took turns jabbing at her psyche—deep gashes, serrated flesh, and damaged mind. They took pleasure in her pain, smiled at her tears, laughed at her anguish.

Her face remained stoic as she moved with the crowds; different colors float by; different eyes judge her movement, judge her involvement, judge her reasons, and judge her existence.

Annoyance itched and itched at her, ignorance shoved and shoved it away. She will not yield under their judgment. She would not crumble at their feet, she would not fall prey to her hunters.

Math... The only hell a teen will truly endure in high school. She sighed and pulled open the door, she walked in, the eyes like lasers, red and hot, burning at the flesh. "Morning Arlo."

"Morning Mr. Talbot." she mumbled.

His eyes followed her like every pair in the room, heads turning to spit words of unsaid insults at her. She took to the back of the class, hood up, eyes straight, and head gone.

"Take off the hood Arlo." a huffed sigh, a compliant student. She slides it back and waits for the judgment to stop.

"Okay class, today we're gonna work on..." she zones out, not wanting to hear his voice, but wanting to erase the image of him on her mind.

They called him psychotic, a sociopath, a murderer; he had no emotions, they said, he was heartless, they said, he was crazy, they called him. But, what is crazy to normal? But what is normalcy to insanity? But what was normal? *Did anyone here even contain a shred of it, and if they did, could they show me, my eyes don't see it, my heart doesn't feel it, and my ears don't hear it.*

*The door creaked its music, the gasp caught my attention. My eyes widened and my jaw set. They called him many names, but I call him human.*

Cillian James Anthony... he was apprehended by the cops a week ago after his best friend Owen Klum went missing. There was no body to examine, no bloodied evidence with no wounds littering a body. He was just gone, no word from him nothing left behind but a cell phone and a cigarette with both his and Cillian's prints on it. Owen was only sixteen, her age. Since everyone else had an alibi except for Cillian, was the most obvious person to suspect since he alone was around the area where Owen was last known to be.

He was brought in for questioning but they didn't get anything from him other than what he already told them. The news says they didn't get to him, threats didn't work and holding him in a cell didn't break him either. His expression never changed, it was like he was used to it; like it didn't faze him, like he was void... they said.

His 6'0 feet frame shaded our 5'10 teacher and my 5'9 height as well. He handed the teacher his late slip, as the eyes glared and the mutters grew. She sighed; he didn't deserve to be accused of something he wasn't found guilty of.

Clear blue eyes looked for solace, a place to seat. His eyes fell on her, and he marched towards the back of the class. She dared a glance, just a quick one to the side of her... an empty seat, a perfect opportunity to die in Math class.

*I always knew that this is how I'd leave the world—hating this class more than I normally did.*

His eyes found hers and hers couldn't pull away. She gulped. He sat beside her, a smile playing at his lips, her heart beating out her chest. He looked like sin, tempting, and alluring.

The teacher caught the attention of the class with the words 'upcoming test' and like fleeting fireflies, they departed from him. "Ugh, polynomials." She groaned, her eyes hating the sight of the board chalked with math unreadable by her eyes.

"It isn't that difficult." His voice was a rumble of her heartstrings, a dizziness of her head and a gulp of her throat. Slowly she turned, her eyes running over his clear face. His eyes were soft, and his hair had stayed in its groomed style. "You don't like math do you?" he had read her well.

She shook her head. "D... do you?"

He nodded. "A+ student." Her eyes blazed, she didn't know he was that smart... but then, she knew nothing of him, that wasn't in the news. She knew his family was filled with bad people, knew he was always assumed to be like them, getting stamped with a bad boy title without even doing anything to rule him as a bad boy. He dressed in dark colors, rode a bike and a vintage car, and was tattooed everywhere and pierced facially.

She turned away, not knowing how to continue the conversation after that. *I think math is slowly becoming my favorite class.*