Owe [A Rusger book]

[Trustworthy, correct?]

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"Do you regret this?"

"So-so."

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I was scrolling through Pinterest and my browser late at night. My eyes were sore, most likely from not blinking. It was the late hour of three in the morning, and I was trying to draw a hand from a tutorial when I suddenly had an idea. 

My father would never let me get top surgery, never in a million years. So I thought, perhaps if I did it without his knowladge, he would never know! So, mischivously, I began searching up places where I could get top surgery done in private. I then found an area on a rather sketchy-looking website. I shrugged it off since it  claimed it was working for the transgender community, and that it was an offical orginization. It had to be true, right? No one would lie about that, or, so I thought.

I scrolled down to the reviews, most looked rather positive, or average at the very least, however, all of them had similar formats of the way they delievered the message, which raised some suspicion in me. Each and every last one started with 'Hi my name is' then ended with something along the lines of 'In conclusion, this was a pleasureable expierence'. I shook my head as a eerie chill shot down my spine.

'There's no way they'd be lying! I just have to trust the process. All these people are saying it's good, I'm just being paranoid.' 

I reassured myself, and scrolled to the very bottom of the page, submitting my full name, age, pronouns, and gender to the organization. I then clicked 'submit' and sighed in bliss, leaning back, I would finally be able to get what I want. 

My joy was cut off abruptly after I heard a creaking noise from my father's room, followed by footsteps nearing the hallway. I closed my tabs, cleared the search from my history, turned off my computer, and tip-toe ran to my bed, getting all snuggled in. 

A spear of fear struck through my skull, like a flaming bullet, as I noticed my chair wasn't pushed in, but it was too late, my father had enterered my room. I clenched my eyes shut, praying that he would pay no mind to the obvious misplacement of my chair. 

As he stood in my room, I peaked with my eye closest to the pillow, watching as my father pushed in my chair, looking at it for a moment. Right when he turned his neck to me, I shut my eye again, and pretended to be asleep, not moving a muscle besides breathing. 

It was only a couple of minutes that he was staring at me, but in that moment it felt like hours, centuries even. He took a final galnce before he exited my bedroom, closing my door with a click, typically, I'd crawl back out of bed and hop back onto my computer, but tonight, I nuzzled right into my pillow, grinning like a total idiot. I was going to get surgery, and I would finally look male!

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'Well, I mean, I kinda was a total idiot.'

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The next day went by quickly, I hopped out of bed, and ran into the bathroom to shower, today when I looked in the mirror, I didn't feel nauseous, I didn't even feel disappointment. I felt a rush of excitement mixed with that 'good-riddance' feeling flow freely through my bloodstream. I imagined myself after the surgery, it would be a dream come true, I just felt it in my bones. 

After getting ready, I practically skipped down to breakfast, however, it was not without reprecussion about the event prior to the morning. 

"What was up with that chair last night? Did you get on your computer late at night again?" He asked, raising a brow, scowling at me, before taking a sip of his red-coloured tea.