Wheels

Prologue

"Cynthia."

"Cyrus."

"Cynthia!"

"Cyrus."

"Cynthia, we moved away from home. Nobody here knows you. You can cut the act."

My life would probably be much easier if I was just acting.

"Mom, it's not an act!", Tears were threatening to pour out of my eyes and I could feel my nails indenting little crescent moons into my palms. I couldn't let myself cry because she would see that as a sign of weakness, but I was clenching too tight, again. The room went completely silent, with the exception of the ticking grandfather clock located to my far left. A small, comforting noise. My mothers eyes were narrowed and I could point out several smudged streaks of her burgundy lipstick among her faintly yellowed teeth. She worked all day, she was probably exhausted. The bags under her eyes seemed to beg for a break. She hasn't stopped working since the move. She's more irritable than usual. I didn't exactly fancy pissing her off, but she had already been upset before she walked in the door, so this really wasn't my fault. Mom is just stressed. Mom loves me. She's just working too hard. Well, I can keep telling myself that. She's not just stressed. She just doesn't like me.

"You were completely fine before. Life doesn't have to be a circus act. You don't need to stand out. Find another way to waste your time.", Her voice was almost hushed. She probably didn't want to wake my little sister who'd already been put to bed. Didn't wanna wake the perfect child. Didn't wanna wake the normal child. Didn't want anyone to see the monstrous side of her. I didn't really care, though. Chloe would understand. Hell, she'd probably understand better than mom.
I took a step back and sat on the raggedy old couch, running a hand through my freshly cut hair. It was short. Really short. Short enough to make me look like a man but long enough to make me look like a typical teenager. I loved it. It made me feel more like myself. I knew mom would be shocked when she came home, but I was hoping for less of an outrage. I expected one, just less of what it is. It's not her hair, though. It's mine. I have no regrets. Why should I? It's not like she gave me money to get the haircut. I paid for it myself. She hasn't paid for my haircuts since I was Chloe's age.

"I don't want to be different, I want to be comfortable. And I'm more comfortable this way.", My voice was low and calm. I wonder if had even sounded like a boy? I hoped I did, but I know that would make her really livid. I'm overthinking. I probably didn't sound like a boy.

"You're being ridiculous. You had such gorgeous hair! Do you know how many girls dream of having long hair like yours?", She slowly inched towards me. I could sense what was about to happen. She was very predictable. I felt guilty for thinking that. Glancing upwards, my brown eyes met vibrant emerald. Mom always did have the brightest eyes. She really was beautiful. She always prided herself on her appearance, and her children's.

"Girls dream of hair like that, but boys don't.", A few tears fell down my cheeks. The entire room had felt tense. My whole body braced itself. Within a few short moments, she has risen her left hand and swung. I caught her wrist. I worried that I would upset her by doing so. "Mom, I love you. Go to bed. You had a long day." My voice was flat, and I didn't hold on too tight, but tight enough to prevent her hand from making contact with my face. Using my thumb, I stroked her skin, something she often did to me before everything had changed.

"You are not a boy.", Her voice sounded like venom. It felt like a knife, slowly cutting through my veins. "You are my daughter.", She pulled her hand away and stapled it to her hip. My hand limply fell to my lap. "And you will not tarnish your reputation by trying to stand out."

"Mom, I don't want-"

"Shut up!", She yelled loud enough to wake both Chloe and my dad up, and dad was a heavy sleeper. A few more tears spilled down my cheeks, burning little streaks onto my skin as I pushed myself onto my feet, turning towards the staircase. "Cynthia, I am tired of this!" I wished I was brave enough to tell her I was also tired.

"Mom, I love you.", I just kept mumbling it over and over as I made my way up the stairs. The words were becoming numb on my lips. I could hear her shouting at me, but it almost sounded like a white noise. I focused on every step upwards. The white noise became louder and louder, she was following me up the stairs, now. I expected that.

"Cynthia Evelyn Pierce! You listen to me now!", Cyrus. My name is Cyrus.
My room was a few steps away. I reached the top of the staircase and made a left. "You are going to be decent and not act up at this new school." Reaching out, I twisted the golden knob and opened the door to my room. "If you do, you will not be living with us anymore! I don't care!" Walking inside, I turned to face my mother.

"I love you.", I mumbled one last time.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't be like this.", I can say the same.
The door was closed. The lighting in my room was dim and comfortable. I was safe here. But likely, not for long.