Not A Monster

As soon as I hit the fresh air, I physically felt better, which made me feel worse.

"Hey, Jack. How's it going?" Troy stepped from the shadow of the tree in our front yard. He wore a plain black tee shirt and a dark pair of jeans. His sandy blond hair seemed to have grown longer since the dance.

At the memory of our last time together I cringed. He'd said that more creatures like me was a bad idea. He thought me a monster and he was right. "What do you want, Troy?" I bit the words out.

"Nothing. Hey," he said, taking my arms. "Talk to me about what's wrong."

"Get away from me, dragon boy." I pulled from his grasp.

"Dragon boy? Ouch." He took me by the wrist and held it up. Blood shone in the moonlight. No doubt he could smell it too.