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The flicker of bright light jerked her out of sleep.
She blinked, disoriented, attempting to pull her blanket over her face, but rough hands jerked it away.
“Are you seriously trying to go back to sleep right now?”
For a split second, she panicked, attempting to yank the blanket back from her mother, then caught sight of her clothes. Just a worn gray T-shirt and boxers. The other set of nightwear, the ones she’d bought online and had sent to a different address just to be safe, was still hidden under the mattress. It had been nice to try them on, but she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those. Or rather, she would be dead if she’d been caught wearing them.
“It’s still early,” She grumbled, cringing at how deep her voice was, having just woken up. “Lay off me.”
“It’s almost noon,” Her mother snapped back, jerking the curtains aside to open a window. “When are you going to start doing something for once?”
Not this shit again.
“I have a job.”
“Not that stupid minimum wage thing. A real job. I won’t be around for you to leech off of forever.” Her mother continued going through the wasteland of her room, sweeping an arm over her desk and knocking all of the junk food wrappers and soda cans to the ground. “What would your father think?”
She gritted her teeth, shivering slightly, cold air now blowing in through the window. She stood up and went over to it to close it, but her mother slapped her hand away.
“Don’t you dare. The air’s absolutely disgusting in here, it needed to be cycled out yesterday.”
“...fine,” She muttered, turning back to her bed.
“And for god’s sake, get a haircut. Do you want people to think you’re a girl?”
“...no.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. It wasn't even that long yet, not nearly as long as she wanted. It was never going to be, at this rate.
She sat back down on her bed, everything starting to weigh on her again.
“Are you really going back to sleep?” Her mother snapped. “You're not even going to clean your room? I feel like I'm going to get sick just from looking at it.”
“Don't look, then,” She grumbled.
“I wouldn't have to if I wasn’t scared that you were going to start growing mold in here. When are you going to snap out of it?”
When my skin starts feeling like my own.
“...I have things figured out.”
“Oh, do you now? What's your grand plan, then, mister?”
“...”
She just stared at her hands, folded limply on her lap, purposefully avoiding looking at her bare legs.
Any attempt at visualizing a future for herself resulted in a dead end. Alone, behind locked doors in the darkness of her room, she could let herself indulge in the fantasy of living as a woman. If she stayed in that space long enough, she could even start imagining going outside looking like that, interacting with strangers, getting to hear a ‘ma’am’ or ‘miss’, maybe even telling a friend about it.
But when the lights came back on, it returned to what it was, crumpling under the weight of reality. Nothing but a pointless dream.
“Just like I thought.” A drawn-out sigh scraped through her ears. “I should’ve just thrown you out the moment you turned eighteen, maybe then you wouldn't have turned into this.”
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay silent.
“You know, I did have some hope for you when you were younger. Based on what your teachers said about you, I thought you might get into an Ivy League or something.” Her mother laughed shortly. “Of course, that was all bullshit. I don’t know what those people were on, saying that about you.”
Her eyes started to burn, vision blurring.
“Still, I hoped that you might be decent at something else, at least, if not academics. I don’t know why I still believed in you.”
“It’s fine. I don’t have any expectations for you anymore. I’m giving up.”
“Just don’t go around committing crimes or anything. That’s all I ask for.”
A choked sob burst out of her before she could stop it. Even if she knew by now, hearing it directly…
“Oh, spare me from your drama queen nonsense,” Her mother sighed. “Do you really think crying is going to solve anything? You’re not a baby anymore.”
“I kn—” Her voice cut off again, the lump in her throat almost painful.
“You really are hopeless, aren’t you? I expected you to at least try to convince me that you still have plans for your life. But no, you just start crying like a goddamn sissy.”
She was starting to get lightheaded from holding in her sobs.
“God, you’re pathetic. Why can’t you just be more of a man?”
“Because I’m not!”
She didn't know what possessed her to say it, but by the time she realized exactly what she’d said, it was too late.
She glanced up at her mother, who was staring at her like she’d seen a ghost.
“...what?”
Fuck.
She opened her mouth, desperately grasping for a sarcastic remark, a crude joke, anything, but the damage was done.
“Lee, what the hell…?”
Well, the cat’s out of the bag now.
“I want to be a girl,” She said in a rush. “I mean, I don’t want to be a girl, technically, since I’m already a— I mean, inside, I’m a girl. I was just…born in the wrong body, I guess.”
It all sounded wrong. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, if it ever happened at all. She’d had better plans for this, a letter, a well-thought out speech, anything better than the word vomit she'd just expelled from her mouth.
Her mother was still staring at her, mouth slightly open. She racked her brain for something else to say, something that would make her finally understand.
“I can’t— It’s why I’m like this?” Her voice cut off in an awkward rise, like she was questioning even herself. “I just…I can’t go outside without—”
She couldn’t look anymore. She let her gaze fall to the floor, fixed on her feet, at the faint traces of nail polish that she hadn’t managed to erase from her toenails. She was standing now, she couldn’t remember when she’d stood up.
“I can’t go outside without wanting to fucking kill myself. I-I can’t stand going out there, looking like this, knowing that everyone who looks at me just sees a guy, and—”
Something solid hit her straight in the chest, cutting off her words.
She stumbled back, reeling from the impact. A half-empty water bottle fell to the floor, the plastic crunching softly. Her shirt was drenched, sticking to her skin, even colder in the chilly air of her room.
A harsh laugh rang in her ears.
“What the fuck are you going on about?”
She looked up just in time to see her mother’s enraged face as she lunged at her, grabbing a handful of her hair as she jerked her around. Tears of pain sprung to her eyes.
“Ow, mom—!”
“Are you insane?” She demanded, shaking her, one hand still gripping her hair. “You’ve finally lost it, huh?”
“I’m not—”
“Shut up!”
They crashed against the wall, still entangled. Her mother kept dragging her by her hair, all the way out to the living room, where she finally let go, sending her staggering into the coffee table, banging sharply against her ankles.
“Sit down.” Her voice was colder than she’d ever heard her.
“I was just joking,” She said quickly, forcing sarcasm into her tone, pitching it lower despite her panic. “Did you really b-believe all that bullshit? Like I’d ever want to be a—”
“Sit. Down.”
Trembling, she walked around the coffee table and sank down onto the couch.
Her mother stood in front of her, staring at her.
“What do you mean, you want to be a girl?”
Her voice was steady, some of the cold fury gone. That was a good sign, at least. Maybe she was willing to hear her out.
“...I want to transition. I…I can’t keep living like this much longer.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to stop her voice from shaking. “I hate this body. I hate going outside and being perceived while in this body. I hate having to act in the way I’m expected to and pretending to be fine with it all the time.”
“And that's the only way you’ll ever be happy?”
She nodded slowly.
The silence stretched thin between them. She kept staring at her knees, unable to look up, afraid of what she would find reflected in her mother’s eyes.
“...well, if you really want to, I guess I can’t stop you.”
She dug her nails into her thighs, just barely daring to hope. “Really…?”
“You’re an adult,” Her mother said flatly. “You’re allowed to ruin your life however you want.”
Of course it wouldn't be that easy.
“I—I’m not going to—”
“No, I mean it! Don't let your old mother stop you. You can do whatever the fuck you want!” Her mother’s voice grew louder, twisting into something cruel. “Go do whatever makes you happy. You can go get your dick chopped off, shoot up whatever drugs you freaks love to do, anything!”
“...Stop.”
“What? Isn’t that what you wanted? I told you, you’re free to do anything! It’s your fucking life! Just don’t come crawling back to me once you’ve destroyed your body and regret it.”
“Fine, I won’t do it!” She screamed. She felt something hot running down her cheeks and wiped at them angrily, her throat already starting to close up. “I-I said it was a joke from the start, you just didn’t listen—”
“What the fuck are you crying for, then?”
“I’m n—” Her voice cut off, too choked up to continue. “I…I—”
“Speak up. Are you trying to manipulate me? I’m the bad guy for trying to protect my only son?”
“That’s not—”
“Oh, here we go, here we go! You really think you’re the victim here, don’t you?”
“No, I—”
“Do you even know how dangerous that shit is? And you’re just so heartbroken that I won’t let you do that to yourself?”
“It’s not—”
“And, what, you’ll kill yourself if I won’t let you?” That mocking laugh again, like twisting a knife in a wound. “Don’t be so fucking dramatic.”
That's not what I said.
“You know, I should’ve known that you’d turn out this way. Normal boys aren’t that sensitive, they don’t cry over little things like—”
She clapped her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face, muttering a stream of curses and pleas to just let it all end. Her mother’s voice still cut through her own frantic mumbling—shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut up please I’m sorry—berating her about all sorts of things, from childhood all the way to adulthood, every little shortcoming, every time she’d proven that she’d never be the man her father was.
Why had she ever thought that her mother might understand? She should’ve known this was going to happen, that this was the only reaction she would ever receive.
Finally, the noise died down, and she opened her eyes.
Her mother was collapsed on the living room floor, face buried in her hands as she cried, breathy, chest-wracking sobs.
“Is this…my fault? Did I not raise you right?”
She just stared at her mother as she sat still on the couch, completely numb. Her shirt was damp and cold. It all just felt like a bad dream. Just another second, and she’d wake up in her dark room, and everything could go back to how it was, no matter how painful. Anything would be preferred over this.
After what felt like an eternity, her mother’s sobs quieted. She stood up, eyes bloodshot, and looked over at her.
“...come here.”
She hesitated, her scalp and neck still aching, the pain of being jerked around etched fresh into her mind.
“Lee.”
Reluctantly, she stood up and walked around the coffee table on unsteady feet.
Her mother was in front of her, then—
“It’s okay.”
She flinched as arms wrapped around her like chains. She tried to pull away, but they only drew tighter, more suffocating.
“I understand. It’s been difficult for you, too, right? Being your age is hard, you must’ve been so confused…”
That's…
“You’re still a kid. You don’t understand everything, you just came to the wrong conclusion. It’s especially hard these days, with all that misinformation going around.”
That's…not…
“You don't have to make up things like that just to be heard. You’re still my son, and I love you. We can get through this together, okay?”
This isn't what…
A warm hand stroked her back. She flinched at the gentle touch as if it were a knife.
“No…” She muttered, shaking her head, trying to break free. “I…I’m a girl.”
Her mother’s embrace stiffened, then tightened around her.
“It’s okay, Lee. It’s not too late.” The hand continued its rhythmic movements. “We can fix this.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear you say.
You’re killing her.
You’re killing me.
“Let go,” She whispered, but her voice fell short against a wall. Her mother just brushed it off, continuing to stroke her back in a mockery of comfort.
She had to escape. One more moment in this cage, and that girl would die, snuffed out like a candle flame. She’d already come close to disappearing forever so many times, she couldn’t let her slip from her fingers now.
“Let go of me!”
She pushed her mother away with all the force she could muster, eyes squeezed shut.
Thud.
A cold chill ran down her spine.
Dread rising in the back of her throat like bile, she opened her eyes and looked down.
A limp, unmoving shape of a body, collapsed on the ground. A crack running through the glass top of the coffee table. Spots of red flickering in her vision; blood? Had she really—? She couldn’t have—
Unable to move, she stared down at the still outline of her mother, heart thudding in her throat. It must've been a minute, at least. An hour? Her legs ached. She couldn’t tell.
She couldn’t stay here.
Her body moved before she could think it through. She ran back to her room, picked up a relatively clean hoodie from the pile of dirty laundry, and pulled it over her head, then a pair of jeans. She grabbed a backpack from the back of her closet, the one she hadn't touched since high school, and shoved in as many clothes as it could hold, along with her wallet, containing what little savings she had.
She probably should've grabbed more stuff, toothbrush and toothpaste at least, but she was already spiraling. She couldn’t bear to stay here for a moment longer, not when the truth of what she’d done still lay in the other room, permeating the house like the stench of decay.
She was halfway out the back door when she remembered the clothes hidden in her room.
She froze in the doorway, one shoe on, before sprinting back to her room to retrieve them. They nearly tore as she hastily yanked them out from beneath her mattress. She couldn't bear the thought of anyone finding them in her room, but she couldn’t keep them with her, either. The idea of indulging in that fantasy again was laughable, almost cruel after what just happened.
She stayed there on her bedroom floor, heart racing, before giving up and stuffing them into her bag. She’d just have to get rid of them as soon as she could.
If there was any noise from the living room; a pained whimper, a whisper of her name, she didn’t hear it.
Not looking back, she ran out the door and into the cold night, never to return again.