The Gold Star
The gold star on my chest identifies me as different. It tells all the people around me that I'm tainted, unwanted, and something to be feared. Maybe I should use that power, but instead I find myself trapped, hovering between who I want to be and who they tell me I am.The war ravaged city passes by the windows of the train. I'm afraid and don't know what is going to happen to me, but I've heard the stories, I know what happens when they show up to take people like me away. I'm trying to stay strong, if not for me, for my family.
My mother and father are huddled in the corner of the train car, holding my baby sister. Their faces look scared as they hold on to one another. There has to be something I can do. I sit in the middle of the floor and hug my knees to my chest. I rest my chin on my knees and try not to let the fear overcome me.
I have to stay strong.
