I was... Strange.

A boy born with no black mark.

Just jet black hair.

My family had it, so it was genetic.

Definitely genetic.

I was abnormal.

Weird.

Atypical.

Strange.

The thing was that my hair shone, unlike everyone's mark, which was matte black.

So I didn't have a single mark.

Being bullied for it didn't help.

Knowing I'd never find love killed me.

Chatters threw me out of my mind.

"Virge!" Roman, the classic thespian was running up to me,
"Hey, Ro." I fake-smiled,
"Ya ok?" He asked,
I sighed, "Yeah-" I flew my hand through my hair, "-I'm fine."
"Ok then." I saw the kaleidoscopic colours fly up his arm,
"Woah..."

Roman was the complete opposite of me.

Happy, confident, popular- had a soul mate- better then me.

Better then me.

For certain.

Romans soulmate was Logan Williams.

A nerdy maths kid, always getting high marks in exams, never saying informal stuff.

But he had his soul mate.

And I just had black hair.

Never finding love.

The nausea spun around in my empty stomach.

My head swam with half-formed regrets.

My heart felt as if my blood had become dried as it struggled to keep a steady beat, yet continued.

My melancholy mood hung over me like a black cloud, raining my personal sorrow down on me wherever I went.

Even the colours of the spring day were dull to me now and the birdsong killed my heart, grating my nerves, and my mind.

How dare anything be so bright.

If I was dead, the sun would rise, rain would fall, the moon would eclipse and the birds would sing. So what was the point?

Was I broken?

No, it was my family! For giving birth to me.

Their fault.

I didn't have a soul.

No love.

Or happiness.