4/24/2014, 10:30 AM

by Avia

They prodded my back, my legs, my arms. They had been doing so when, for a moment, I felt like a layer of my back was being peeled open.
“What are you doing?” I screamed.
“You’re a hybrid,” they said. “Pretty white wings.” They finished whatever they were doing and had me put my clothes back on and look at myself in the mirror.


I never knew that my irises were really golden. Maybe now that I’m here, I will be allowed to be special. To be different. To be beautiful.