Unsafe Secrets

Chapter 1

     The sudden tightening in my chest soon got worse, my head feels as if a blender were shredding up my brains. I want to wake up from this nightmare, but this nightmare I'm living.

     There was an unexpected yet familiar roar of anger pulsing through my veins, screaming at me, telling me how I dress and act is so wrong.

     I soon come to the realization that I'm trapped in this little closet once again. Looking for any sign, although failing, for any trace of light to tell if it's night or day.
Since no light is coming through any of the cracks I took a mental note that it's most likely night. The time just blurs by when I'm lost in my mind. Thinking of how much I wish this war were over. How much I want to be allowed back into my home, to be accepted for who I am.

     This closet I've gotten much too familiar with. The sound of the lock turning over, the weak spots in the floor, every crack and hole. Small holes in the wall, each with their own story.

     All too often he locks me in here, I used to drown in fear when it happened the first few times but after so long I got used to it. The only way for me to be let out is if I admit I'm into girls and not boys, but as soon as I paint my nails or put on a dress I get beaten and thrown back in. This whole thing I do not understand, my father hurts me because he didn't get a son. He always wanted two sons. That he could raise and be manly, but he got a girl first. And then he got a boy a few years later. I'm the girl, but he doesn't seem to believe that.

     My last dress, a beautiful ball of pink fluff, my father burned to ashes right in front of me. I still don't understand.. yes I have a dick, but that doesn't mean if I had a choice this is what I would have chosen. Do you know how hard it is to wear leggings with a floppy piece of flesh sticking out?

    Sadly I can't wear shorts.. or tank tops. Nothing shorter than long sleeves. My body is scattered with scars. Some I did to myself, many I was forced to do myself, but most from my father. He always told me I wanted to be a girl just for attention, so he took razor blades and cut my arms , making them look like I cut myself. He told me that I wasn't allowed to wear long sleeves at school. But at home I must so my innocent, unknowing mother, wouldn't find out. He also told me that since I'm so attention hungry that these cuts would get me the attention I craved. But the truth is I don't want attention. I hate attention, I would like to be left alone. He thinks cutting me will make me realize I'm a boy. But I feel girly things, I have a girly mind. A dick doesn't change that.