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Not Like Most Girls

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    Mary isn’t like most girls. She snorts at the thought. She knows how misogynistic that would sound to anyone who doesn't know her well. Mary doesn’t mean it in the way most girls would. Most women, she mentally corrects herself.


    The only people that really know Mary are a few close friends. Beatress, Lance, and, arguably, Billy. Whether or not Billy knows her is debatable, only in that he’s attracted to her. Ever since the thing that happened, Mary’s been wary of anyone being attracted to her. She knows logically that Billy is a friend and that he’s nothing like them. But still. She never expected her rapists to be rapists, either. She’s more cautious with men, even men she trusts.


    Mary has known who she is her whole life. My name is Mary Mason. I’m Hungarian, a surgeon-in-training, and I like birds. I’m aromantic and asexual. I’m not broken. Even after what happened to her, Mary is not broken. Even if it takes her a while to believe that.


    It takes her even longer to feel confident again. It reminds her of how she felt when she first thought she was broken. However, after years of life, she had come across who she is. And that’s what she does for this, too.


     Mary had spent years of her life wondering fuck, what am I? She went to several meetings at the college GSA. Mostly because she knew she wasn’t straight. Even if she wasn’t gay or bi, she knew she wasn’t straight. And she came across the terms ‘asexual’ and ‘aromantic’. And the rest is history.


     Coming out wasn’t hard. The people in her life who matter, were accepting. And she was happy. Until it happened.


     Mary, can now say, with confidence, that she is a strong and feared creature of the night. It’s not a surprise that cutting people open makes one feel invincible. Mary is no different. What makes her feel even more invincible is cutting into the people who hurt her. Who hurt other people who didn’t deserve it. And no one deserves what happened to her. She’s determined to make the world a better place for the weak and vulnerable. Not that she considers victims weak.


     So Mary, Bloody Mary, American Mary, as she’s referred to, becomes a hero. A hero to the women who suffer like she did. She mostly works on consensual patients, but she’s always willing to practice the latest mods on an abuser. Mary isn’t like most girls. And maybe, that can be a good thing.