Chapter 1 When I was a little girl, I remember dreaming of castles with princesses in them, Aladdin's magic lamp, and glittery things. I was 8 when I realised I didn't look like the other girls in my class. I had a large birth mark that covered half my face. And even though I tried to hide it every once in a while, I couldn't hide it with my small thin strands of hazzle hair. My grandmother used to tell me how beautiful I looked with my birthmark. My mother on the other hand, always talked about getting it removed. She never told me I was perfect the way I was. But constantly I would hear her firm unfair voice saying. "That mark has to go!" It was no longer a beauty mark like my grandmother would say, but a mark that made me look less than beautiful. I remember wanting that mark to go, because I wanted my mother to love my face just as much as my grandmother did. I got my first bully in the 3rd grade. I was in recess playing the grains of sand, being entertained by how every little grain could slip through my fingers. I remember comparing it to the sheets that lie on my mother's bed. Her name was Berada, but everyone called her Bee. Bee was never fond of me, she made fun of the "mark" that laid peacefully on my face. I remember naming my mark Heaven, because my mark was my friend. Everyone laughed at me and called me all kinds of names that broke me down on the inside. I felt like a freak, and I felt ugly. I told my mother that day and she told me. "Children can be cruel, but you have to remember sticks and stones, words never hurt, just get over it." She was wrong, those words did hurt me, and they hurt me bad. I wanted to be like everyone else, normal. I didn't want to be branded as an outsider or the class joke. After a while, I hated my own reflection. I would cringe at my face and remember the names that they called me. It played over and over in my head for years. I didn't talk to anyone, no one talked to me much either. I was an unhappy Mark Faced Girl