Jay sat, with his back against the wall, staring at a mirror mounted on the opposite wall. He was on the third floor of his house, a place that was normally full of younger siblings and friends. It seemed strange empty, like it was missing something. Jay wasn't surprised at the lack of activity though. He had stayed home sick.
Really he had no disease, he just couldn't stand the stares and whispered conversations that occur when he walks past. The kids taking a step to the side, even a small one sends a message. They must think burns are contagious.
Jay reached up and touched his face, the skin was all bumpy and yet taut. He winced when he yawned, it had made a blister pop and his left cheek felt damp.
He looked once more at the mirror. He looked like an ugly, spiteful, person. His right eye let out a tear, for his left wasn't good for anything anymore. He looked so mad, so angry. Jay couldn't stand it.He couldn't stand to think that this was the way everyone saw him since the fire.
Jay picked up an old alarm clock and threw it towards the mirror. It cracked the middle, and the mirror splintered off.
Jay cried out of his good eye. At 16, he shouldn't be crying. The blisters, scars, and scabs he saw in the mirror weren't fair, they weren't him/