I can't take it anymore.

I thought it would be different.  I really did.  It was a new school.  No one knew me or knew my past.  Plus, I just started high school.  It was over, I thought.  I could start a new life.

Then, the whispering began.

Just like before, I would walk into class and the faint whispering I knew I was hearing would cease.  People would stare when they thought I couldn't see them.  People started avoiding me.  No one would talk to me.

I tried not to let it get to me.  I had been angry for so long already; I didn't want to go back to being that person.  I had new friends now, ones who loved me and depended on me as much as I depended on them.  Especially her, the one who approached me when no one else would, the one who introduced me into that circle of friends.  She was so friendly and open, not intimidated by my reputation or me at all.  I had thought it was finally over.

But it wasn't.  And it does get to me.  Everyday is a struggle to face it, to face them, those faces, the ones who despise me, who hate me just because I'm... not like them.  I hate it.  I hate them.  I hate myself because I'm... different.  I can't take it anymore.

I can't tell them, my friends, my new family.  It's my pain, my shame.  I don't want them to know, to feel sorry for me.  Or worse, for them to look at me like they do.  If that happened...

The doorbell rings.  I wipe away the tears I couldn't stop as I go to the door.  I open it and see her standing there, a bright smile on her face.  She's holding a bag, saying something about finding something she knew I would just love to have.  I smile for her, though it feels a bit forced.  I don't really feel like having company but I invite her in anyway.  I could never deny her.

She sees my face and asks me what's wrong.  I see her concern for me and I tremble.  No.  I can't lose it.  Not here.  I try to smile while I tell her it's nothing, I just don't feel well.  She dives into the bag and whips out a small box, smiling again, telling me that she had found the perfect thing.  Some kind of tea, guaranteed to cure the blues.  She's still smiling as she goes to the kitchen to boil some water.

I watch her from just inside the kitchen as she works, talking brightly about her day and the others, about everything.  She's so energetic and happy.  Even when things go bad, she never quite loses that quality.  I admire that.  I wish I had that.  I wish I had that love, the love that washes all the bad things away, the kind that holds you close and tells you that everything will be alright and you believe it because you can feel that love and you share it and no matter what you have someone who will be there to love you and support you and help you no matter who you are or what you are--

I hear her voice from somewhere calling to me.  I look up and barely see her.  I'm on my knees on the kitchen floor.  My eyes are wet and I shake horribly.  I'm crying.  I don't remember crying.  Why can't I stop crying?

I bury my face in my hands.  As much as I like to fight, I can't fight this.  Not any more.

I feel her kneel next to me.  She wraps her arms around me and holds me, supporting me.  I sink into her embrace, sobbing.  I hear myself babbling, spilling out everything.  I can't stop.  I want to stop, but I can't.  I don't want her to know.  She shouldn't know.  It's my shame, my guilt, my burden.  What will she think?  Will she hate me?  Will they all hate me?  I cry harder at the thought, afraid of losing the only friends I have left.

Then, I feel it.  A soft, warm light.  I can even see it from behind my closed eyes.  My breath catches as it grows in intensity.  For a second, I am scared, not for me but for her, but then I hear her.  She speaks in a soft voice, wise and mature beyond her years, a voice full of love.  Love for me.  Her hands brush my cheek and I feel that love enter me to soothe my soul.  She tells me that everything will be all right, that no matter what, she and the others are here for me.  I find myself believing her words.  And for the first time in my life, I feel the ache that I've carried with me for years fade away to nothing, to be replaced by love.

I feel the soft light fade back into her.  I lift myself up and look into her eyes.  They are a bit wet, from tears, I realize.  But she's smiling again, a smile matching the one I wear.  I feel new tears form, but they aren't tears of shame or regret or depression.  They are tears of joy.  I throw my arms around her and hug her for all I'm worth which she returns with equal fervor.  I should have realized that she wouldn't condemn me or fear me.  Just like all the others, she is my friend and friends stick together no matter what.

Thank you, my friend, my princess, my queen.

Author's Notes: This was the second Sailor Moon fanfic I wrote and the first written from a Senshi's perspective. It shouldn't be too difficult to figure out who she is supposed to be, but just in case, click here.