The Posion Of Nightshade

Chapter 1: Mornings and Little Sisters

15-year-old Amiere Breyting despised mornings. Mornings brought nothing but trouble to her already sickening life. Through the partially open cracks in her shutters, everything, absolutely everything, was bathed in a fresh, springy light. To most, that would be an extremely pleasant thing. After all, a pleasant breeze accompanied by chirping birds sounds positively lovely, right? Not for Amiere. Mornings were easily one of the most dangerous parts of her day.

First off, there's the fact that she's simply not a morning person. That alone is reason enough for anyone to hiss at the first sliver of light that decides to land upon their skin like it's a parasite. But, no, that's not all. Next, is the fact that she has to wake up before everyone else in the house. Which means five a.m, maybe five fifteen if she's lucky. After she actually wakes up, meaning getting past the whole 'getting out of bed part', she has to bolt her window shutters. Yeah, actually bolt them. Then, she makes sure her bedroom door is securely locked, so no overexcited little sister, cough cough Felicity, can give her a little surprise visit.

Now, many people would wonder, why the hell is she being so over the top about her room's security? Well, that's quite simple. To the rest of the world, she, is a he. Yup, you read that right. Okay, there is a perfectly good explanation for this that will be, well, explained later. Just sit tight and listen, um, look(?) while she finishes her morning routine.

After covering the crack underneath her sleek mahogany door with a wooden block, Amiere smiled. This was one of the few times she could actually breathe, seeing as how she didn't have to put on an act. Lifting her pajama shirt from her body, the smile was wiped from her face as she gazed at the thing that helped guard her true gender.

The funny thing is, she helped design, and create it, not really realizing how much it would affect her, and how much she'd come to despise it. In a way, it could be thought of as a specialized corset of sorts. However, instead of helping women hide their body fat, this made her slim waist more sturdy, as if it belonged to an athletic male, disguising many tedious curves. Along with that, it continued up to her chest and ended above the place where it strained her most.

Though there are specialized binders used by transgender or gender queer people, those are generally only used to hide the chest area. As it is, Amiere partially modeled hers off of it. But the difference is basically like comparing a sharpshooter in the Civil War to a modern-day sniper.

When she was a child, her underdeveloped body could easily pass off as a boy's physique. Nowadays, what with her being in her teens, aka the prime of womanly growth, a few areas have decided to ruin that. SO, to summarize, while it's goal in some areas is to make her look buffer, in other areas, it squeezes and squishes the living daylights out of her.

To compensate for that, she immensely enjoys her bathing time. Weird right? But that's pretty much the only time where she's not forced to wear it (other than, you know, the times where she has to change it out and wash it. Cause wearing the same one all the time would just be nasty. That would be like wearing the same shirt every single day without ever changing it. Just gross. Oh, it comes in different colors too, in order to suit whatever she's wearing. I mean, you can't wear a black one with a white dress shirt. The problem with that is fairly obvious.) And just to savor it, she washes very thoroughly. I mean hey, her parents can't complain about the water cost when they make her live as a boy right? (Again, all will be explained at a later date in time).

Sighing, Amiere goes to her polished, sleek black, double door closet. Sliding it open, black felt hangers are revealed, containing her "high quality" clothing. Ignoring it completely, Amiere turns to the wall completely covered in a large, translucent glass dresser. Grasping the delicate indent that serves as one of the many drawer's handles, she yanks it open and draws out a white cotton v-neck. With a firm hold on her shirt, she grabs another drawer, and skillfully pulls it open, then closed, but not before taking a pair of navy blue skinny jeans with her. Another drawer is opened, revealing balls of pairs of socks. Grabbing a small black pair, she retreats from the closet and shuts the sliding door, it's purpose having been served.