From the outside, all is normal. From the outside, no one sees what happens to those who are different. Everyone smiles, and keeps on with their lives. No one points out the empty beds. Elders, children, those in power, it doesn’t matter. From the outside, this is just a little village. Nothing to see here, it’s perfect. Because they purge those who are not. The little girl next door who was crippled. One night she vanished from her bed. I see her parents smiling through their tears, being TOLD to smile through their tears. The elderly lady with Alzheimer’s one street over. Gone without a trace. Her children say it was for the best, she was getting bad anyways. But I can see the light on in her house at night. I see three heads bent over in sorrow, mourning their mother. My mother, a woman who was once well known and loved in our community. And then she had me with a traveler who soon left. He came back shortly after I was born. My dad stayed. He had to. My mother was dead. Then there’s me. A girl with no mother. A girl who hides away. A girl who has trained her whole life preparing to revolt. To take those who are different, who are flawed, and those who know the truth and revolt. I stand out. I’ve nearly been killed before. Someone’s body was never found, and it sure wasn’t mine. So yes. I am flawed. I am broken. I am not perfect. I am not what this village wants me to be. But I am what it needs me to be.