Bandu has a full body mirror and a lot of spare time

Reflection

The young adult stared into the mirror, pinching at his sides and trying to pull them back. He didn't care for how roughly he pinched, there's beauty in pain, isn't there? He'd stripped down to his boxers to get a cleaner view of the body he was settled with, now more harshly trying to pinch away his self-proclaimed flaws. Bandu sighed as his body returned immediately to normal as soon as he released his hold on his waist, letting his hands dangle by his sides instead of trying to fix it.

He stared at his chest. Although he had gotten surgery done to remove what fueled his dysphoria, he didn't feel like a real boy. Real boys don't have scars on their chest. Real boys never needed to bear those scars to look like real boys. Bandu whimpered, tears rising in his eyes. He turned around and walked over to his dresser, digging around in the bottom shelf and pulling out his binder. He hasn't needed to use this in awhile, he still doesn't need to. Bandu looked back at the mirror from the distance, slowly pulling his binder on.

He reluctantly brought himself back to the full body mirror, staring at the binder. He felt helpless. He wants to be a boy. He wants to be a real boy. Why couldn't he have been born a real boy? Bandu's eyes looked back down at his stomach and waist, mind rolling back to all the things his sibling has said as he pinched and grabbed at his tummy.

"You should watch your diet, Bandu." 

"Are you sure you should be eating that much?"

"You should cut it on the pizza, you look like you'd need it."

"You have a high appetite and it shows, Bandu."

The previously swelling tears broke and slid down the boy's face as he roughly grabbed at his stomach, squeezing as he tried to rip it off, letting out weak grunts and squeaks as he hiccupped. He punched at his stomach, arms already feeling weak and shaky. Bandu fell onto his knees, his thoughts were too loud. He stared into the mirror, feeling disgust by the visual he was shown. Bandu brought his fists to the mirror, limply punching at it until it shattered and his knuckles were bloody. He didn't want to see it anymore. It only multiplied though, there was a lot more shards that showed his body. Bandu tore himself away from the mirror, scrambling onto his bed as he wept.

He curled up in a ball, staring at the now broken mirror and the open dresser with clothes violently tore out of it. He's made quite the mess, hasn't he... He'll clean it up later. He's just tired. Bandu looked at his alarm clock. 7:30 PM. Dinner. He looked at his hands, turning them around to see how they've bloodied. He looked down at his stomach, immediately looking up as he felt sick.

He'll fetch dinner later.