I gazed into the mirror, cautiously this time. If he came back, I had no idea what I was going to do or how I would respond. After a moment, I let myself believe he wasn't coming back and grabbed my straightener from the cupboard under the sink. When I looked back up at the mirror, my heart fell. He was back, smirking at me and running his stupid fingers through his stupid short brown hair. "Go away." I huffed at him, plugging the straightener into the wall. He shook his head, still smirking.
"Nope. Not until you let me out," he responded curtly. As usual, he looked almost 17 and was wearing a Twenty-one Pilots t-shirt, a backward snapback hat, a leather jacket, and dark jeans with a plain pair of grey Vans. I sighed, breaking my gaze from him to see if my straightener was hot yet. Not quite. I fought a groan before looking back at this strange boy in the mirror.
"And how do I do that?" I asked, eyes darting outside the bathroom to the hall to ensure no one was in hearing distance of me. No doubt I sounded insane, talking to some hallucination in the mirror.
"Easy. You admit that I'm you." I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him as I grabbed my straightener and got to work on my hair.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked him. Mimicking me, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you haven't seen this coming for years," he replied. I nearly dropped my straightener as an extremely vivid flashback suddenly overtook me.
I sat atop the small tower of the playground, at seven years old, with a triumphant grin on my face. Everyone knew the coolest kid at the park was the one who climbed to the top. The height scared me a bit, but I did well to hide that fear. Two boys' laughter caused me to turn around and give them a curious look.
"No way you did that all by yourself. You're a girl!" As young as I was, it still drove a stake right through my heart to hear that. I glared at them and shouted back.
"I should've been born a boy, but I wasn't, so I still kind of am!" The other boy laughed.
"Yeah, right. You're just a stupid girl!" he yelled with a cruel smile. I fought to not start crying. No way I was going to show weakness in front of these two bullies.
And then I was back in my bathroom, staring at the boy in the mirror who was narrowing his eyes at me. "Need I show you more?" he asked with an annoying smirk. I crossed my arms.
"Doesn't mean anything. Just because when I was younger I thought I was meant to be a boy doesn't mean I think so now." My voice sounded so hard and sure, but my mind wasn't as clear, and it scared me. Before I could straighten the remainder of my hair, another flashback took over me.
"Really?" He asked. "Just when you were younger?"
I was in the shower, fourteen years old, crying. More like sobbing to the point of not knowing whether the water dripping down my body was from the shower or from my eyes. As I grew older, I thought the confusion would go away, but it just got worse as my body developed more and more. The confusion, the hatred, the willing of it all to just stop got worse every day. Wishing I was never born. Wishing I was born differently.
I was beautiful, but I hated it. I despised my feminine facial structure, loathed my womanly figure. Couldn't stand that there was anything to show off. It was wrong, everything was wrong. My entire life was just wrong, but I had no idea what to do about it, how to fix it, so I just cried.
Back in the bathroom, fifteen again. Panting heavily, harshly glaring at my reflection. Well, the boy that was standing in the way of my reflection.
