QUEER | tayley

fighting a losing war

warning: transphobia, violence

While waiting, I decide to hide behind the school, where nobody is going to see me. I don't want anybody seeing me in this state.

It only takes a few minutes for Hayley to arrive. As soon as her car approaches me and she sees my beaten body, her jaw drops.

"What the fuck happened?" she asks as soon as I climb into her vehicle.

"Don't worry about it," I respond before slamming the passenger door shut.

"I am not moving this car until you tell me what happened to you."

"I fell," I lie. Although I know for a fact that the fib is not going to be believed, I disregard that. The car does not move, nor do Hayley's eyes move away from my battered face.

"Taylor," she says through gritted teeth.

"Just drive the car and I'll explain on the way," I request, which is enough to get the car moving.

"I was gonna walk to Zac's house. We always hang out on Fridays, and he told me I could come over today. He wasn't in school today because he was stressed and his mom let him skip. Can you believe --"

"Taylor, just get to the point," Hayley interrupts.

"Right. I was starting my walk to his house, but before I even got to the parking lot, Chad came up to me and pinned me up against the wall. He started talking to me, asking if I was Taylor, which I said no to. He hit me. He asked if I was, uh, the person who broke your heart. I said no again. Not because I was lying, but because you were the one who broke up with me. If anything, you broke your own heart. And my heart," I explain.

"Bullshit. I was willing to work things out that night, you refused to even hear me out," Hayley claims.

"I'm sorry, but I believe I was talking," I say with an eyeroll before continuing. "Then, he started choking me. Kinky, I know. He said something along the lines of you hating me, that I should stay away from you, and that I'm not normal. When he loosened his grip around my throat, I told him that it would be best to save all the choking for you," I say with a small smirk.

"Why would you tell him that?"

"Oh, come on. I know you're fucking him. You're probably planning on sucking his dick later today. I see the way you two are with each other during lunch. Or, rather, the way he is towards you. He's all over you, while you probably view him as nothing more than a dick to ride."

"My sex life is none of your business," she argues with flushed features.

"Never said it was. Anyway, I was speaking. For some reason, me exposing you caused him to let go of me completely. Instead of running away, I said something about his mom. Instantly, he punched me. As soon as I fell to the ground, he started insulting me more. As I looked up at him, I couldn't help but think about how disgusting it must be for you to stare up at him while he's fucking you. Gross. Anyway, he started reminding me of how worthless I am, talked about how you were the only person who cared about me but now that you're all over his dick, nobody cares about me. I mean, he's right. It's not like I don't tell myself those things regularly already. It just kind of hurts to hear all of it aloud."

There's a brief silence before Hayley says, "Well, you got what was coming to you."

"Excuse me?"

"You hurt someone he cares about, what do you expect? And you can't go around insulting people's moms without expecting consequences."

"Is that really all you took out of my story?"

"I'm not saying that violence was the answer to whatever Chad was trying to prove. I'm just saying that maybe you need to bring less attention to yourself," Hayley says.

"Are you kidding me? I've done nothing to draw attention to myself. I rarely even talk to anyone that isn't Zac. The only reason that anyone in our school knows that I'm trans is because you outed me," I remind her.

"Grow up. I outed you to like, two people. It's not my fault that word spread so quickly. None of this would have ever happened if you had just told me the truth from the get-go."

"So it's my fault that all of this happened? Maybe you should learn to keep things to yourself."

Hayley scoffs. "You say that like I've told everybody all of your darkest secrets. You know what? Maybe I should. Maybe I should tell everyone that you cut yourself, or that you have to stick a needle in your ass just to be a man, or maybe I'll tell everyone that every time we fucked, I faked my orgasm."

"That last one is a lie," I respond angrily as if that was the only on I took offense to.

"I know it is. But people will believe anything I say. They don't like you anyway," she says with a smirk. Throughout this entire conversation, she has kept her eyes on the road. I'm grateful that she's not looking at me for two reasons. One; I don't want her to crash the goddamn car and two; I don't want her seeing the look on my face. I'm fighting back tears and in doing so, my eyes are squinted, my nostrils flared, mouth closed tight. It's far from attractive.

"And I don't need testosterone in order to be a man. It just helps me with my dysphoria. Even before I was on it, I was a man," I insist.

"Oh, I agree. But, Taylor, are you forgetting where we live? This is Tennessee, essentially the center of the Bible Belt. People here are going to find any reason to hate you."

Not knowing what else to say, I ask, "Why are you being such a fucking bitch?"

She hesitates. Based on the blank look on her face, along with her silence, it seems as though she is unaware of why she's acting this way. She doesn't answer me, but instead keeps her eyes on the road and turns the radio on.

There is no more conversation for the following five minutes. She only speaks up when she pulls into my driveway and demands, "Get out."

I throw my backpack over my shoulder and get out of the car without another word. I don't turn around, I don't look back. I keep walking until I reach my front door. As soon as I enter the house, I shout, "Hello?"

I'm somewhat grateful when the only response I receive is my own echo. I stomp up the stairs, throw my bag into my bedroom, and go to the bathroom. When I look at my reflection, I cringe at my appearance. Fingerprint-sized marks wrap around my neck, a bump resides on my cheek so large that it appears as though I'm hiding food in my mouth. To really complete the look, blood, all of which is now smeared and dry, runs through my nostrils and circles around my mouth. When I open my mouth, I see that my teeth are stained red from the blood. I knew that I was bleeding from the metallic taste that had entered my mouth, but I did not notice the extent of it.

As I walk back to my room, I know that there is only one way to stop the thoughts flying through my head, and I fear that it's what everybody's been hoping I do.