Finding Family

Chapter 3

***TW***
Self/harm, pls don't read if it will be triggering for you. To anyone struggling, I know what's it's like and it's gonna be okay, you're strong!

Briars POV

I hate myself
Why was I born like this?
Why can't I just be normal?
I hate myself

I repeated the mantra over and over as I tried to tear my eyes away from the mirror. I don't want to look myself. But I can't help it.

I close my eyes and imagine a pretty teenage girl with large brown doe eyes, thick shiny hair, an hourglass figure, a feminine face and small nose.

But imagination isn't reality.

I opened my eyes and was met with a boy. A boy with small dull eyes, thin hair, a flat chest, masculine jawline and a crooked nose.

I clenched my jaw and fists but that just made it worse, made me look even more like a boy. A boy in skirt. That's all I was, that's all anyone sees. That's all I'll ever be. 

I sank to floor and curled me knees up to my chest as a traitorous tear escaped my eye and down my cheek.

I rolled my my left sleeve up and watched as tears spilled onto the cuts can scars decorticating my arm.

Taking a deep breath in, I wiped my tears and reached for the only thing that can stop the crushing feeling of self-hatred, the only thing that can lighten the pain even if it's just for a second.

I just looked at it. Glaring at the small, shiny piece of metal in disgust. Disgust for myself. I know it's wrong, I know it's dangerous. But I just can't stop, sometimes it feels like it's the only think keeping me going.

I looked up the mirror on last time.

I'm disgusting. A disgusting boy. I hate it.
I hate myself

I dragged the razor blade across my forearm and watched as the crimson blood spilled out.

I looked in the mirror again.

A disgusting boy.

That's all I could see.

Another cut. More blood. I went deeper that time. Blood was dripping down my arm, painting my pale skin red.

I looked up at mirror yet again...

                                      ***

Bleep
Bleep
Bleep
Ble-
"Fucks sake" I mutter as I shut off the alarm that was sitting on my pitiful excuse for a bedside table.

I groaned as I stood up and ran a hand down my tired face before stumbling to the bathroom.

I wash my hands in the sink only to see brown, sticky dried blood smudged across my left forearm. I couldn't stop the bleeding, no matter how long I pressed the tissue to my arm, it just wouldn't stop. Eventually I gave up, changed into my pyjamas and went to sleep.

After washing the blood off, I inspected the new cuts. The bleeding made them look worse than they we, they were shallower than it seemed, I'd gone deeper before.

I let out a sigh of relief, they weren't deep enough to need a bandage or plaster of any sort so I didn't have to go through the trouble of sneaking into the social workers room and stealing from the medicine cabinet.

Good, I was not in the mood for that. Fostering day was coming up, putting me in an even worse mood. Forster day is fun, when you're a little kid. They throw this fair with free games and food, all the foster in kids in the area and potential foster parents come and we just play the games and eat the food, hoping someone will notice us.

At least, you do when you're a kid. When you're a teenager you've already lost all hope of being fostered. Especially when you're a trans teenager with mental issues. So all the older kids just sit and talk, away from all the games and foster parents. Fun, I know.

After showering, brushing my teeth and so on I jogged downstairs, wanting to get the first pick of breakfast. These kids are animals, if make it down stairs a minute later than everyone else, I'll go to school hungry.

Grabbing a piece of toast and some peanut butter I sat down at the table and tucked in, it wasn't long before the others joined, running down the stairs and into the kitchen like a bunch of starved animals.

After a disgusting hot and smelly ride to school in the cramped minivan, surrounded by young kids who refuse to wash more than once a month and teenagers or don't know what deodorant is, I arrived at the hell we are forced to call school.

I took a deep breath as I stood outside the large wooden doors that lead to the depths of hell. Preparing myself for the transphobic slurs, I slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

A/n
I know I haven't updated in ages, I took some time away to focus on myself and my mental health ect. But anyway, here's the third chapter!! Hope you enjoy!!!