Innocence's Blood

Innocence's Blood

Sarah was different. At least that's what all the grownups would say, whispering to each other when she walked by. Sometimes, she'd pretend not to hear the murmurs or see the furtive glances, but she was always curious. It wasn't fun being young, when people pretended you didn't know much. Sarah didn't, but she wasn't arguing that point. She merely wanted to learn. Why was she so different? Sure, she didn't have a father and her mother had just died, but she was just the same as any other kid. Wasn't she?

Sarah walked down the path to her house. Well, not her house. It was her aunt and uncle's. Her aunt and uncle had always been quite cold to her mother. Sarah guessed it was because they hadn't seen each other for a long time. But since Sarah had gone to live with them, they had become even more frigid. She had tried her best to get them to like her, to love her, but they had never responded. As Sarah reached the house, she heard raised voices.

"We can't keep her here. She's different, her blood's impure. A bastard! What will the neighbors think!"
"I know, but we can't just turn her out onto the street. She's just a little girl..."
"I always knew my sister was a tramp, but..."

Sarah knew they were talking about her when they suddenly stopped arguing when she came in. Uncle looked embarrassed and Auntie merely glared at her. Sarah ran upstairs, her thoughts in a jumble. She was different. She didn't know what some of the words meant, but she knew the word different. Her blood was different. Sarah had seen blood before, when a classmate had fallen down and cut his knee on a rock during recess. It had been red and icky. Why was her blood impure then, why different? Why was she hated so much?

Sarah was determined to find out. Her heart hurt and tears threatened to spill. She took a pair of scissors and determinedly cut a little line on her wrist. Blood welled up as the wound throbbed slightly. It hurt a lot, but she blinked back the pain. Sarah looked at the slash, confused. Her blood looked just the same as everyone else's. Why would her aunt and uncle lie? She braced herself again and pressed the edge of the blade into her skin, harder and deeper. More blood poured out, glistening darkly. A few drops slowly dripped down her hand and splashed onto the perfect white floor. Heedless, she only stared at her wrist, uncomprehendingly. Why was she so different? A tear trickled a wet trail down her face and fell, mixing with the stark red that decorated the floor. Swaying slightly, she leaned against the cold wall, cold just like her aunt and uncle. She searched for any sign that she was different, that she truly didn't belong. Nothing changed. Her blood stayed just as red and just as thick as everyone else's, even as her vision blurred and blackness came. It stayed the same till the very end...


Word Count: 517