Chapter Text
I sit up abruptly and bite down on my lip hard to keep the scream that is bubbling in my throat from escaping. I quickly take in my surroundings and let my shoulders slump in relief when I realize that I am just in the living quarters of the ship. I'm not in my room and Rita isn't hovering over me, tearing through my skin with her claws. I aggressively wipe my hand across my eyes to try and rid myself of the tears that were flowing down my face. Closing my eyes once again I focus on my breathing. In through the nose … one … two … three. Out through the mouth … one … two … three. Over and over again until I can no longer hear my heartbeat thumping through my ears.
I open my eyes once again and allow myself a few more minutes to compose myself before I slowly leave the comfort of the ships bed. Last week I had cornered Alpha 5 after one of our training sessions and asked if the ship had any bedrooms. Alpha had informed me that, yes, the ship did have six living quarters, one for each of the Rangers that Zordon had come to Earth with, and that we were free to stay in them anytime we wished. I had quickly scoped out the rooms, finding that each was furnished with a large bed, the material of which was unknown but the comfiest thing that I had ever slept on, along with a closet and desk. I had taken up residence in the living quarters at the end of the hall, hoping that none of the other rangers would venture down here. That they wouldn’t find out that I had taken to sleeping here.
After the attack on Angel Grove the city had really come together, everyone helping out to try and repair the town. It was during this time that I had decided that it was a good time to come out to my parents. Surely if they could get over an alien attack on our town they could get over the fact that their daughter was gay? Boy had I been wrong. That day would forever be imprinted into my mind.
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“Mama, papa can I talk to you?” I wrung my hands, barely able to look at my parents. My hands were sweaty and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I considered backing out, of not telling them, but quickly shook the idea away. I wanted to tell them, I needed to tell them because I didn’t want to continue to have to hide who I was from them.
My father placed a bookmark in his novel, placing the book on the kitchen table, showing me that I had his full attention. “Andrea, come sit dear. What is it you want to talk about, mija?”
My mother listened to my father and stopped cutting the carrots and wiped her hands on a dish towel before taking a seat. I took a deep breath and began, “As you two may have noticed, I’ve been really distance lately…a few months ago I, uh, I realized something about myself and I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with it. I’ve been so scared of how you’ll react and I-” I felt myself choke up a bit and wiped my hands on my jeans. My mother shot me a strained smile and my father nodded for me to go on, “I need to tell you because I can’t just hide myself anymore, and I don’t want to…What I’m trying to say is that I-I’m gay.”
I bit my lip hard, waiting for them to say anything, holding my breath for their reaction. My father’s eyes widened a bit, but he stayed silent, as if trying to process the information. However my Mom began to shake her head, as if trying to shake the words out of her ears. Tears began to prick at the back of my eyes and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “No,” my mother muttered, “No. No.”
“Mama?” I asked quietly, now visibly shaking where I was standing, “I-”
“NO!” She screamed, standing up, the kitchen chair flying behind her. “No you are not – you are not gay!” I flinched, taking a step back as she advanced at me. “I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE AN ABOMINATION.”
“Mama please…” I whimpered, walking backwards until I hit the counter.
“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS KATRINA? ARE YOU LOOKING FOR ATTENTION, IS THAT IT?”
“No mama, I-I can’t help it. I…I like girls, I-”
Smack. My head wiped to the side and I couldn’t move. My mother just slapped me. It barely hurt, my pain tolerance much higher after training for the past few weeks and the battle. Nevertheless I brought my hand up to my cheek in disbelief that my mother just slapped me.
Her voice got very low and she stared me down with cold eyes, “Don’t you dare say that to me ever again. You are disgusting. You are not my daughter. You are an abomination.” With that she spun around and marched out of the room, leaving me a quivering mess against the counter.
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That had been about two weeks ago. For the first few days I had toughed it out, hoping and praying that maybe my mother just needed time, to see that I was the same person that I had always been. But I couldn’t handle it. She had told Mateo and Jaime, my younger brothers, that they forbidden from talking to me, lest I corrupt them. My brothers were appalled and had tried to sneak into my room later that night to find out what mom was going on about. Only mom had found out and had gripped them both by the arm, dragging them out of the room and screaming at them that I was a monster and she was protecting them from me.
My breaking point was that she would not allow me to eat dinner with them. I had skipped dinner those first few nights after my confession. So when I finally gathered the courage to go eat with the family I found the fifth chair to our dining table missing and my mother’s glare. “I will not feed the damned,” she had announced to the table, before serving food to my brothers. I had been flabbergasted and had turned to my father in hopes that he would be on my side. Only to find him avoiding my eye contact and muttering, “Just go away.”
I couldn’t stay there. Not in a house where I was looked at as a monster. Not in a house where my brothers would get in trouble for daring to speak with me. So I had run up to my room and gotten two duffle bags out of my closet, throwing my clothes and bare necessities in them before sneaking out the window. I hadn’t been back since.
I rolled my shoulders, as if I could shrug off all the pain that was threatening to bury me. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed I allowed my bare feet to touch the cold floor, anchoring me in the present and away from thoughts of my parents. I padded over to the wardrobe that was housing my clothes and grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top. Once I had quickly changed and thrown my shoes on I made my way out to the pit. Alpha was already standing there, expecting me. “Miss. Trini I really think you should take a break, you’ve been training every day and you sho-”
I cut Alpha off, “Just summon the putties Alpha.”
Alpha lets out a soft sigh before three putties materialize before me. I nod my thanks before getting to work. I am a flurry of punches and kicks. Abomination. Punch. Monster. Kick. Just go away. Kick. I won’t feed the damned. Punch.
I let out a cry of anger and tackle one of the putties, straddling it as soon as we both tumble to the ground. I feel tears leak down my eyes as I furiously punch the chest of the puttie, letting lose the rage that has been building up in me ever since I told my parents. Suddenly the puttie disintegrates beneath me and I slump forward onto the ground, letting out a sob. A moment later a hand is on my shoulder, “Miss Trini please go to the morphing grid, you’re hands are bleeding profusely.”
I hold up my shaking hands and see that all my knuckles are split and blood oozes out of every one of them. I bite my bottom lip roughly and lurch to my feet, limping my way to the command center. We have accelerated healing, but it only goes so far. We heal quicker than normally, but not exponentially so and the cuts on my hands would take a few days to heal even with my new powers. But when we are near the morphing grid the healing process is even faster and the cuts on my hands will be healed in half an hour.
I glance down at my watch, I still have an hour before school starts so once my wounds are all closed up I’ll take a quick bath in one of the many pools down hear and then head off to school, leaving me enough time to stop by the cafeteria and grabbing something to eat. I sigh and feel wonder how long I will be able to keep this up. How long I will be able to live with the fact that my family hates me. That I am essentially homeless. That I belong nowhere.