There's No Point Pretending (H.G. X Reader)

That's Not My Name

Hey howdy hey. I've recently come to terms with myself so this oneshot is purely self-indulgent.

(You don't have to listen to the song, it just kinda matches the vibe of the oneshot so I thought I'd include it if you wanted to listen.)

In this scenario, reader is born female but is non-binary, or agender, or gender non conforming, or whatever you want to use in the story, I think trans-masc and trans ftm would also work for this.

Trigger warning: cursing, mental breakdown, screaming, body dysmorphia/dysphoria

That being said, enjoy.

Few quick things -

(D/N) = dead name (the name, usually given at birth, that you no longer go by)
(P/N) = preferred name (the name you've chosen for yourself)

Fuck this school. Fuck the teachers. Fuck the students. Fuck everyone and everything. Especially myself. I'm the worst of them all, and they all know it.

I looked at my hair in the mirror, now shaved on one side as a direct result of my mental breakdown. It brought me control, calm, but it wasn't enough. I almost screamed at myself, instead I just kept cutting away at my hair, large chunks falling away from my scalp.

Why can't I be normal? Why do I feel like this? I hate my body, every square inch of it. I want to get out of it. Change it completely. Why don't I look like me?

I looked to the mirror again, tears streaming down my face. My face, it wasn't mine, it didn't look like me. It was wrong. I just don't know why.

I looked at my body, disdain for my chest, my stomach, my hips. It's all wrong.

I looked to my face again, violently wiping away tears with my arm before throwing the scissors across the room. I couldn't get rid of it, the feeling that something was wrong, no matter what I did.

So I screamed, a horrible, painful scream that came from somewhere deeper than my throat. If anyone was around, they would think I was dying.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" I shouted at the mirror. The stranger looking back at me had no answer, only more tears.

I fell to my knees, sobbing into my hands.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

I don't know.

My sobbing continued for what felt like ages. The feeling persisted, and I was no closer to understanding why. I stood and slowly walked to the adjoining bedroom, wiping helplessly at my endless stream of tears.

I fell into my bed and curled up under the blanket, wanting nothing more than to cease existing. Because I didn't want to die, but this feeling of wrongness was worse than death.

It wasn't always this bad, sometimes I could go weeks or even months without thinking about it, but it always came back. Usually with a vengeance. That was probably my worst episode, ever. I could only hope the silencing charm I placed on my room was enough to keep people from hearing.

I quietly cried to myself, the sounds of soft sobbing filling the room. Just as I was getting myself under control, reigning in my tears for the moment, there was a knock on the door.

I didn't dare answer, my heart raced at the mere thought of being seen like this.

"(D/N)?"

Shit, it's Hermione.

"(D/N), are you in there? I'm gonna come in, okay?" Thinking on my feet, I threw the blanket over my head and curled into a protective ball, hoping she would just go away.