grotesque

As I slept last night, I transformed into some sort of grotesque--still human, but warped and deformed and weird and terrifying. But nobody understands what I'm saying when I ask them about it. "You look fine," they say. Even my sister--the one person I thought I could still trust. But I saw the looks they were giving me. I've become a monster and no one wants to tell me about it.

I'm left to conclude that they want me around for some reason--they don't want me to run off and hide, to retreat into the dark where monsters like me belong. They're willing to endure the terror that looking at me brings to keep me around. But to what end? What could a creature like me have to offer?

I've decided to leave before I can find out. I can sleep on the rooftops at night and find a place to hide by day. I can haunt the streets like a ghost, until I finally become one.