Dyke.

The word stared at me from the toilet walls.

Alyssa Smith is a dyke.
Alyssa likes pussy.
Alyssa is a slut.

The black marker scraped across the cheap plastic stall- it screamed across the surface until I had to stop. Just a black mark now. It's gone- breathe.

Dyke. The word followed me out of the bathroom stall- like a shadow hunting me wherever I go. It's always visible- but you might not notice it at first.

My head was down and I watched my converse take one step in front of the other. I'm moving, it's fine, I'm in control-

"Watch it!"

I hurtled into a moving body and came to a sudden halt after bouncing off someone. My eyes stay glued to the ground.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I try to edge out of the way.

Laughter followed me down the hall and I heard the familiar word again.

"Did you see her?"

"She just ran into your tits!"

"Practically groped you!"

"Dyke!"

The shadow hung its head but didn't speak- it lurked in the corner and waited to be beckoned over: its eyes were wide and hopeful.

I kept walking. Don't look back. No one will notice it. No one will notice me.

Dyke. It's there under the black marker still.