Which One's Which

Stuck In My Head

                 I can't handle them anymore, correction I can't handle them not knowing anymore. I kept repeating this in my head over and over while pacing back and forth. I couldn't get out of my head. 

"What if they hate me?"

"What if they hurt me?"

"What if they just didn't listen"

"WHAT IF I'M JUST BEING PARANOID AND THEY DON'T CARE!?" 

I think I may have said that one out loud, because I suddenly hear a knock on my bedroom door. My mom slowly walks in, gently like she knew something was wrong. 

"What's wrong honey?" 

"Oh nothing, I'm just stressed about starting High School next month"

As if knowing I was lying she looked me dead in the eye and said, "Everything will be okay, you are a smart girl"

That last word stung, and that's when I ran down to the bathroom, tears flowing down my face. I quickly ran in and locked the door. 

My mom yelled and yelled, apologizing even though she had no idea what she had done wrong. She kept asking if I was okay, but I ignored her.

 I clumsily ran around the bathroom looking everywhere for where my father left his razors and a pair of scissors. I finally found them, but by now my whole family was trying to find out what was wrong. What hurt the most was when I started cutting my hair as short as I could, and I faintly heard my father say. 

"She's probably just on her period. Lets just leave her here to cry about her random bullshit."

Though as soon as he finished speaking, I very loudly herd a slap. I assume my mother slapped him for being such an ass, and he deserved it. 

I  looked at myself in the mirror, still crying, but I was a bit happier. I looked at all the hair on the ground, then my reflection. For a second I almost decided I was done, but quickly changed my mind. I plugged in the electric razor and turned it on, it was loud, and my dad's voice got louder at the same time. 

"What the fuck are you doing in there, you little bipolar bitch!"

I still didn't answer. I soon got all of my hair off and I was happy. That happiness faded quickly as my actions sunk in.

"WHAT WAS I GOING TO SAY NOW, IT'S NOT LIKE YOU CAN HIDE IT NOW!"

My anxiety spiked. I couldn't breath. I almost passed out, but I didn't allow myself to. I took 5 minutes to breathe, but now I had to leave this cramped bathroom. I had to face my family. 

I slowly unlocked and opened the door to see a worried mother, a pissed father, and my little brother and sister scared.

"I have something I need to tell you." I whispered almost too quietly. 

My mother requested to talk to me alone, but my father refused.

"This little bitch needs to just fucking explain herself right fucking now"

I motioned for us to sit on the couch in the next room.

"Mom, dad, I have something I've been having trouble telling you."

"What honey?" my mother asked confused.

"I-I-I'm transgender," I looked around nervously, "I'm a boy...I'm sorry" 

I began to sob as I failingly attempted to hold back tears.

My mom also began to cry, but in an angry way.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, are you fucking mental?" 

I was surprised to here something like that from the person I loved, and trusted most in this cruel, unforgiving world. 

My dad didn't speak a single word, but he gave me an angry stare. It seemed as if he was thinking of what to say or do to show his hatred for what came out of my mouth. Next thing I know, he bolts up the stairs and into my room. He throws as much of my stuff into a bag as he could fit, breaking stuff that didn't matter. He threw the, now full, bag and yelled at me to leave or he would force me to. My mom couldn't even look at me as I walked out. 

That was the last time I ever saw any of my (blood) family.