Disclaimer: I do not own Smosh. Obviously. I do, however, own the OC Bianca Rayne Greenhill.
I smiled as I stepped off the plane onto the hot pavement of Sacramento Airport. With my hair tucked up under a hat and sunglasses hiding my eyes, I felt almost normal. Nobody was staring at me, whispering behind my back. It was a good start to my new life.
I guess I should explain. My name is Bianca. I'm nineteen years old, and I grew up in the small town of Dukirk, population 200. In some ways, I'm not that different than other girls. I'm tall and slender, with milky white skin that refuses to tan. I'm not missing any limbs, and my face is pretty enough, but that's where the resemblance ends. Because I, Bianca Rayne Greenhill, am an albino.
My hair is pure white, and my eyes are deep ruby red. When I was little, my mother told me that I was beautiful, that I wasn't a freak.
She didn't realize I could see her cringe every time she looked at me.
I never went outside very much until I was six. Then I had to go to school, and my life became a living hell. From the beginning, everyone was afraid of me. Even the teachers. I was called a freak, a monster, a ghost. That was what everyone started calling me. Ghost. Not even the teachers called me by my own name. I had no friends.
My fellow students said mean things to me. They tripped me, they stole my books. They scrawled threatening messages on my locker. Every person in school. Every last one of them went out of their way to be cruel to me.
The only living creature I really loved was my cat, Jet. I found her when I was in grade two, after I had crawled into a thicket to hide, sobbing as if my heart would break. She crawled up to me and started licking my tears away, meowing softly.
I lifted my hands from my face and looked at her. She was pure black, with startlingly blue eyes.
In superstitious Dukirk, black cats were shunned.
She was an outcast, like me.
After that, I was somehow able to make it through each fresh day of torture, just at the thought of going home and seeing Jet.
Near the end of grade six, my mother fell gravely ill. My father had left her when she was pregnant. Her parents were dead, and she was an only child. I had no other family.
I kept going to school, barely able to get by with the unemployment checks we received each month.
At the age of eleven, I had taken on the task of managing a household. I was still tormented at school. No matter where I went, I couldn't escape from the jeers, the whispers.
Only in complete darkness did I feel safe. It was the one time that I could hold the illusion that I was normal. Then the sun rose again, and my illusion shattered like porcelain.
I would have quit school, but I was clutching on tightly to my dream, my one hope for the future.
All my life, I had wanted to be an author. Books were my safe haven, my escape from the real world. Books didn't judge me.
In grade ten, my mother died. I was sad, but we had never been really close. She had never been able to really accept me. I moved on. Got a job, paid the bills, added to my savings.
Then the unthinkable happened. When I was in grade twelve, as much of an outcast as I had been since kindergarten, I came home to find Jet, lying dead in a pool of her own blood. One particularly cruel boy in my classes had killed her.
That day, something broke in me. Jet was the one thing that kept me sane, kept me from hurting the people who hurt me, kept me from deciding to just end it all. And she was gone. Just like that.
There was one month left of school. I graduated with flying colours, even though my teachers all hated and feared me. No one could deny that I was smart, even if I was a freak.
As soon as I got my diploma, I left on the first available flight to Sacramento.
Now I was here, away from the judging eyes of Dukirk. I was never going back there. Ever.
I checked the slip of paper that I was holding tightly in my hand. It contained the address to my new house.
It was quite a ways from the airport, and I had a lot of luggage, so I hailed a taxi. In twenty minutes I was standing in front of my house. It was small, but neat. I fished out the key the real estate agent had mailed me and unlocked the door, dumping my bags on the floor as I stepped inside.
I looked around quickly. It was nice, fully furnished, with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and an office.
Then I went back outside and locked the door. I had noticed on my way here that there was a pharmacy a couple of blocks away.
I'll buy some hair dye. I decided. I had bought coloured contacts at the airport. I was going to change my look entirely. For once in my life, I was going to fit in.
(A/N: well, that was a bit dark :P I know smosh isn't in it yet, but they will be. Don't worry ;) please review, i just started this off a sudden whim. Teehee. Whim )