[very short story] oil on the face

After puberty, my face started to get oily.

Because I have a lot of acne, my classmates laugh at me as a pox scar. From time to time, they overturn my desk, throw away my personal belongings, and publicly ostracize me, apparently seeing me as a filthy thing.

I told the teacher about the situation, but the teacher asked me to do a good job of cleaning and maintain my face image, but my face would become oily within ten minutes. Should I stay in the toilet all day to wash my face, just to please those who are superficial and look at people's appearance? classmate?

In disobedience to the teacher's advice, I started not cleaning at all, leaving the shine on my face. Those classmates who liked to bully me suddenly became afraid. They no longer dared to touch my things, approached me, or even looked at me directly.

I couldn't help but be proud of the oil on my face and thought deeply that it protected my self-esteem, until one day my teacher walked up to me wearing a mask and gloves, hoping I could come to the office to chat.

I understand that the teacher wants me to do a good job of cleaning again, but I also want to take the opportunity to take a stand and hope that the teacher will understand that the oil on my face is a part of me.

I walked into the faculty office at the appointed time, only to find it was pitch dark inside.

Just when I was suspicious, a hot, foamy water column hit me. I screamed in panic, but was pinned down by several people wearing masks and gloves. I took a deep breath in the foam pile and caught a glimpse of the teacher who was carrying the hose. I gradually lost consciousness as the sound of water filled my features.

When I woke up again, I was in the health room bed, and all my skin felt so fresh. I saw the teachers and classmates staring at me not far away, and noticed fear and disgust in their eyes. I rolled over, feeling too naked.

After the incident, I dropped out of school. I was locked in the room, stroking my face, but there was no greasy touch, as if there was never any oil on my face. So, I picked up my phone, ordered three buckets of fried chicken, and ate it in big gulps.

That night, the oil started to run off my face, and a warm smearing sensation held my face lightly, and I felt like I was myself again.