Chapter Text
It’s another day I wake up in this horrible place. I don’t want to be here anymore. I wish the sleep had taken me. I sigh, sitting up in bed, staring at myself in the mirror, disappointed I’m still living in the nightmare. I hear my mother call from downstairs, “Lily, honey, can you come down here, please?”
I flinch at the name, getting out of bed and going downstairs. “Yes, Mother?”
She looks me over with disappointment, “What are you wearing, Lily?”
”I haven’t gotten dressed yet, I’m sorry.”
”Hmm. Well, go get dressed now, young lady. You have a church group to go to today.”
”Yes, mother.” I go back into my room, getting dressed trying to be a little on the masc side, but not noticeable enough. I head back downstairs.
She looks me over again, “Okay, dear. You’re all set for church. Just remember that the pastor is a very conservative man. You must be very formal and ladylike around him.”
”Yes, mother.” I look down at my feet.
She sighs, “All right. You can go. I’ll be ready in about an hour myself. Be back before then. Do you need a ride to church?”
”No, I can walk, it’s not that far.”
”Ah, okay. Just be back in time, okay honey?” She kisses my forehead.
”Bye, mother.” I slip on my shoes, stepping out the door going down the sidewalk to church. The church is just down the path. I see a crowd of people out front, walking around chatting with one another. I can hear the pastor another fire and brimstone sermon inside. My stomach turns at the thought of going in. I walk in and sit in the back pew.
The pastor continues his sermon, “It doesn’t matter how many of these ‘transgenders’ you see walking around. The only thing that can change someone’s gender is a prayer and God Almighty.” People in the pews around me nod in agreement. I reluctantly nod, trying to fit in.
The pastor finishes, “Now, if you ever see your son or daughter ‘transitioning to the other gender’, you have my permission to discipline them. I don’t want to hear about it either.” The people in the pews cheer their support for this hateful sermon.
I shift in my seat uncomfortable, trying not to show it. The pastor continues, “If you have to, you can take them to a conversion camp to remove all of those demonic feelings.” The people clap. I golf clap my stomach tied in knots. “Now, let us pray in silence for the Lord to bless us.” The people close their eyes, taking a minute to pray. I bow my head and put on the illusion that I’m praying too. I do pray though. I pray to God to take me home to him so I don't have to live with my parents anymore.
After a few minutes, the pastor closes “Let us pray in Jesus’ name… Amen.” The people’s eyes open, some looking my way. I glance around seeing a girl a pew over. We lock eyes. She looks away quickly, her dad giving me a death stare.
I look away ‘she was so pretty’ I think to myself.
Her dad grabs her hand, “Let’s go, dear. I think it’s best we leave before there’s more of them inside.” She looks back at me one last time before being dragged out of the church. I feel sorry for her. She didn’t want to leave, and she clearly liked looking at me. She’s going to end up suppressed the same way I am. I make the rash decision to follow behind them. The girl is struggling to break free from her dad, but he’s too strong. She starts to cry. They leave the church building and go to their car, the girl getting in the back, forced to look away from me by her dad.
“Wait!” I look at her dad.
He gives me a menacing glare, “What do you want?”
”I just want to talk to her,” I glance at her, “and maybe be friends?”
”That’s not gonna happen, miss. My daughter is pure. She’s not some demon like you.” He speaks his words with pure malice, looking down at me like I’m scum.
”What do you mean?” I look up at him.
”You know what I mean, miss. Don’t try to play dumb with me. I’d be surprised if you weren’t even a girl at all. If I found out if you’re one of those trannies, there’ll be hell to pay.” He then proceeds to slam the door of his car. The girl in the back is shaking nervously, looking at me with wide eyes. The car pulls out of the parking lot, and away from the church. I stare as the car drives off.
I’m filled with many emotions. Anger, rage, sadness, and fear. I don’t know what that girl is going through. Perhaps she gets beaten, maybe worse. I try to process everything that just happened. I hear footsteps behind me. I turn and see the pastor coming towards me. I stiffen as I see him approach.
”What’s your name, young lady?” He has a scowl on his face as he gets up close to me.
”Lily.” I force out trying not to stutter over my words.
His face softens a bit. “Lily… that’s a pretty name. For a girl. If I recall correctly, you were in my congregation earlier, weren’t you?”
”I was.”
He chuckles softly, “So you heard my sermon, correct?”
”Yes, I did.”
He leans closer to me, “You’re not one of those transgenders, are you?”
”No, sir, I’m not.”
”Hm, then what’s with this masculine attire of yours? Trying to look tough, like a man?”
”I just think clothes like this are comfortable.”
“So you don’t have any thoughts of transitioning, do you?”
”No I don’t, sir.”
He nods, “Well, be sure to keep it that way. God frowns upon people like that. If you don’t mind, how old are you?”
”I’m fifteen.” I say hesitantly.
“Fifteen? I see, just a child. Listen, child, I don’t want to hear about you acting like you’re a boy, because you’ll never be one. Do you understand me?”
I nod, “Yes, sir.”
He chuckles, “Good, and just so we’re clear I don’t want to hear about you ‘behaving’ like a boy either. That means no boy clothes or any masculine attitude. If I hear of anything of the sort. I’ll be paying your parents a little visit. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. Now, if you don’t mind, I should be on my way now. God bless.” He walks off, getting into his car and driving off. There’s no one left around me. I look around, looking to the woods and start to run. Running to the fort I built to escape years ago. I reach the door opening it. It’s still the same after all this time. I lock the door behind me, feeling safe even if it’s only for a bit. I fall onto the couch rubbing my face. I’m exhausted and frustrated. Trying to process everything that happened in such a short amount of time, but it’s too much. It feels as if the whole world is pressing down on me.
“What the fuck.” I whisper to myself staring at the ceiling. My stomach drops when I remember what the pastor told me. That he will be paying my parents a visit. My parents would beat the hell out of me if they hear about me acting ‘like a boy’. I feel sick. I sit up quickly, and out of the fort, throwing up next to a tree.
My parents make everyday difficult for me, but this is the worst yet. I shake and tremble as my mind races. Them finding out is the last thing I need. “I need to get home.” I mutter to myself. I stand quickly on wobbling legs, starting to run again, to home. I run down the memorized path to the sidewalk leading to the house. I open the door seeing my mother sitting in her usual chair, seemingly waiting for me. “Hi, mom.” I walk inside slipping off my shoes.
She seems to be in a really sour mood, she looks at me with hatred and anger, “Did you go to church?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good. Did you act like a lady?”
“Yes, I did, mother.”
“Did you talk to anyone there? Anyone at all?”
“I spoke with the pastor before leaving.”
“The pastor…” Her fist clenches, she looks even more angry, “What did he say to you?”
“He just spoke of how he didn’t approve of my outfit.”
She gives me a death stare, “So he said your clothing was masculine… is that correct?”
“Yes, mother.”
Her anger increases, “And you told him you weren’t trying to be masculine?”
“I told him that I thought it was comfortable.”
She grips the arm of her chair, “So you were trying to look like a boy then. Is that right?”
“No, mother, not at all.”
“Then explain to me why you were dressing like a boy!” She yells.
“I just think that it’s comfortable.”
“I didn’t ask if it was comfortable or not! I asked why you were dressing like a boy! Answer me child!” She stands from her chair stepping closer to me.
I shrink slightly, “I’m not trying to look like a boy.”
That only fuels the fire. “Lying little brat! You indeed are trying to look like a boy. Look at yourself! You’re wearing pants, you’re not wearing any makeup or dress or even a skirt. You’re just acting like a boy!”
I start to shake with fear, “No mother, I’m not trying to.” My words wobble as I speak.
“You’re going to have to talk with your father when he gets home. He won’t take kindly to hearing about this.” She pauses, “I want you to promise me something?”
“Yes, mother.”
She speaks sternly, “Promise me you will never attempt to act or look like a boy again, otherwise there will be serious consequences. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
She looks at me with piercing eyes, waiting for me to make another mistake. “Just so we’re clear, that means no more boy clothes or that masculine attitude of your’s. Understood?”
“I understand, mother.”
She pauses for a few seconds, “Good, now, you’re grounded until further notice. Go to your room and wait for your father to come home. Clear?”
I nod.
She points to the stairs, “Upstairs, now.”
“Yes, mother.” I go upstairs and to my room. I close the door behind me. I sit on my bed staring at the wall waiting for my father to get home. When he gets here he’s going to be so mad. My eyes well up with tears, they spill to my face without me realizing it. I fear what he will do when he gets home. He probably won’t even bother talking, just lash out first. My gaze falls on my dresser. I stand opening a specific drawer, lifting the false bottom I take out the knife I keep. Just in case. I hold it in my hand, staring at it. Just looking. Debating. Staring. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway breaks me from my thoughts. I hear the footsteps of my father coming up the stairs. I hear the click of the door being unlocked. I quickly scramble to put the knife away. I grab a book and get on my bed and start to read. I hear my parents talking to each other.
“Hello, dear…” They continue talking for a few moments. The conversation ends with my father yelling:
“I want to talk to her now!”
My fear spikes, I slip the bookmark into my book. The stairs creak as my father climbs them. He walks up to my bedroom door opening without knocking. “Hello, father.” I hide my fear the best I can. He looks at me silently for a few seconds before speaking, “Your mother told me what happened today with the church pastor. Is it true?”
“Yes, father.”
“So, you were trying to look like a boy today?” He walks closer to my bed, “Is that right?”
“No, it wasn’t, father.”
His face grows with anger, “Don’t you lie to me. Your mother told me that the pastor was reprimanding you for dressing like a boy. Is she lying?”
“I wasn’t trying to look like a boy, I just like the way the clothing feels on me.”
“Hm, well, your mother seems to believe him. Now, answer me this: are you a girl or not?”
“I’m a girl, father.”
He sighs with relief, “Good. Tell me something. Do you promise to never behave like a boy again? Ever?”
I look down at the floor, “I promise.”
The anger on his face eases, “Okay, just don’t act up like this again, okay? I don’t know why that pastor has been thinking the way he has, but I don’t want to hear about any of this again. You understand me?”
“I understand, father.”
“Good, but just so that we’re clear. If you ever try to transition, or I hear about you behaving like a boy at school, there will be some very bad consequences. Got it?”
“Got it.” I nod, still not looking at him.
“Good girl, and just so you know. From now on I’ll be checking your room everyday to ensure you’re behaving properly. Understood?”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now come here, dear.” He holds out his arms for a hug. I hug him. “I love you very much, remember that. Don’t make me upset like that again, alright? That’s the last thing either of us want.”
“Alright.” I whisper, nodding.
My father hugs me for a few more seconds before pulling away. He pauses looking at me, “Say it back.”
“I love you.”
He smiles softly, “Good girl. Don’t do anything stupid again, alright?”
“Alright.”
He turns to exit the room, “I’ll be back to check on you before bed. Behave.”
“I will.” I say quietly.
He exits, shutting the door behind him. I sit on my bed trying to process what happened. Tears fall down my face without me realizing it. I’m left overwhelmed and frustrated. I lie back on my bed staring at the ceiling. There’s a knock at the door. “Come in.”
The door handle turns the door opening. My father peeks his head through the door, looking at me with a serious but gentle expression. He steps into the room. “Hello father.”
He walks over to me and sits down on the edge of the bed next to me. He takes a deep breath sighing. “You’re not going to make me mad again, right?”
“No, I won’t.”
He gently brushes the hair out of my face, “Good. I don’t know why that pastor thought that at all, but I know he’s wrong. You’re not behaving like a boy at all. You’re just dressing how you’re comfortable. Am I correct?”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“Good, and just so we’re clear, you don’t feel trans? You don’t want to transition, correct?”
“I don’t.” Lying feels weird. I don’t like lying, but I have to do it to survive.
He smiles gently, “That’s good. I just want you to know that you’ll always be my little girl. Understand?”
“Yes, father.”
He strokes my hair lovingly, “I’ll be in to check on you throughout the next few weeks, just to be sure you’re staying on the right path. Clear?”
“Yes, father”
“I’ll go now. I’ll see you in the morning.” He stands to leave, then pauses for a moment, “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too.”
He nods to me, then walks to exit my room shutting the door behind him. I’m left alone to process everything again.
This is just the beginning. Now he’ll be watching me, waiting for me to make another mistake. If I do, he won’t hesitate to punish me.
“Fuck.” I whisper to myself. Torn whether or not to do it. It feels like the world is pressing around me again. I can’t even be who I’m meant to be without being punished. I’m lost. I don’t know where to go. Everything is so stressful and frustrating, it’s all so overwhelming. There’s nothing I can do about it. My gaze carries over to the drawer that holds my knife.
I hate that I don’t even feel safe in my own home. My father is watching my every move. I feel trapped. I only know that if I don’t conform to exactly how they expect, I’ll be punished. My father promised severe consequences and punishment if I act up again.
I begin to scratch at my arms, a nervous tick I developed. The stress is getting to me. I don’t feel like myself, and I have to act like a completely different person just to not get punished. I can never be my true self around him. I’m starting to hate myself already from the lies I have to tell.
My arms begin to prickle with blood from my scratching. I can’t seem to stop though. There’s so many thoughts going through my head, I don’t know how to deal with any of them. I can’t control myself. I can’t stop thinking.
I look up seeing myself in my mirror, my face wet with tears, my arms an angry red color from blood and scratches. I stand from my bed sneaking out of my room and into the bathroom to attend to my mistake. I find the first-aid kit, pulling out gauzes and antiseptic wipes. I clean the scratches, hissing quietly from the sting. I wrap my arms. After I finish I stare at myself in the mirror, disgusted from how I look. I try to keep everything in, I struggle to not let everything out at once.
The thoughts keep coming. My father’s anger, the way he threatened me, all are adding up in my mind. I hate how I look, I hate how everything feels. Everything is so overwhelming, the fear of acting the wrong way all the time is beginning to take its toll on me. I grip the bathroom counter, tears starting to flow down my face. I’m trying my best to contain it all, but it’s all too much. I lean against the counter, my heart aches knowing it’ll be like this for much longer.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door. I pause. It’s my father. I wipe away my tears pulling myself together the best I can. I walk to the door, opening it slowly, “Hello, father.”
He looks at me, seeing the redness of my eyes. He can tell I’ve been crying, he tries to show a gentle expression, “Are you okay sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I clear my throat.
He pauses for a few seconds, clearly not buying my words. He knows damn well I’m lying. He sighs softly, “Good, are you done in the bathroom?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. Now if you don’t mind, can I check your arms?”
“Why?” I ask nervously, my stomach dropping.
He crosses his arms, trying to hide his annoyance, “I know about your habit. I just need to check if you did anything stupid, if you did I’m going to punish you. Put your arms out.”
My fear spikes more than it did before, “okay.” I put my arms.
He grabs my arms, pulling them into the light, seeing the red marks where I dragged my nails. He examines the scratches, looking very upset, “This is not what I wanted to see,” He pauses for a second, “Have you been doing this to yourself?”
I shake with fear. Afraid to respond.
He glares at me, “Answer me! Have you been scratching yourself on purpose?”
“Yes, father.” I say quietly.
He grips my arm tightly, “You realize that this is wrong, correct?”
“Correct, father.”
“Do you promise to never do this again?” He loosens his grip on my arm.
“I promise.” I stutter.
“Good,” He pauses for a few seconds, “I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you the next few days. I want to make sure you keep your promise. Do you understand me?”
“I understand, father.” I look down at the floor.
He takes one final look at my arms before letting them go. “Good, and just so we’re clear, that means absolutely no self-harming behaviors at all. Understood?”
I simply nod. Too tired to formulate words.
“Alright… Now you go to sleep, okay? I’ll be checking on you first thing tomorrow morning.” With that, he exits the bathroom. I feel a wave of fear and shame wash over me as I try to calm down. Another warning from dad. I know full well he will follow through with daily checks. I stumble back to my room, closing the door behind me. I fall to my knees, the stress of everything hitting me at once. Every emotion and thought comes to me at the same time. The fear of getting caught again, the stress of dad’s warnings and actions, my fear of doing the wrong thing. It all overwhelms me. Tears spill from my eyes. I have half the mind to scream, I can’t. I don’t, fearing punishment. I lie on the floor sobbing softly. Hopelessness fills me, like nothing can be done for me to be free from this nightmare. All I want is for my father to understand who I am, but that’ll never happen. It feels like I can’t do anything without being punished.
I grip the floor. My hand flies to my mouth. It’s as if I’m going to vomit. I run to my trash can holding it. My body shakes. Every emotion in my body coming out at once.
I vomit in my trash. The smell hitting me stronger than anything I’m feeling. Gods, it’s wretched. I fall to the floor shaking. It’s all so overwhelming. All I can do is lie here, too exhausted to do anything else. My heart beats loudly in my ears.
I end up falling asleep on the floor.