LittleVixen

Hey. I'm sorry for the late update. Trying to write chapters in advance, so I can finally manage to stick to my schedule. But for now, I just will release a chapter as soon as possible.

Anyway. I used new terms, wordings, formulations, phrases,... in this chapter to broaden my horizon, so there may be typos and other errors. Please tell me, if you find any, so I can improve.

I actually split 'The calm before' into two parts now, because it felt like something was missing. 

 

CW:

Spoiler

Dysphoria, Depression, Delusions.

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The alarm rang. I turned off my cell phone and threw it as far away from me as I could manage from my crouching position in bed. I hadn't left the house or eaten in several days. I felt lousy. 

My attempt to lie back down in a semi-comfortable position was thwarted by my tear-soaked pillow. I threw it out of bed as well and lay on the flat mattress. You couldn't call it comfort; however, I had—despite the desire—the feeling this was what I'd deserved. I replayed the meeting with Rubina over and over again in my mind, and each time I came to the conclusion that it was definitely my fault after all. I was probably just trying to subconsciously vent my frustration on her and had only imagined her words about curses and such. It wouldn't be the first time I thought someone said something else, even though it clearly didn't correspond to reality. The way the conversation went overall revealed only one thing about me—I was utterly and totally scum. Scum, that deserved to be treated as such. No wonder that no one believed me when I tried to tell them who I really was. After all, I was nothing but the monster of my dreams itself; there simply couldn't be any other explanation for all this.

I pulled the duvet over my head. The darkness did me good. It was so empty, so quiet, so bereft of any light or feeling. How I wished that this darkness would surround me forever and an eternal sleep freed me from my endless torment. From the agony of being someone, I am not. From the hell of hurting others simply by being me. I was aware of the absurdity behind it, but I just couldn't help it. 

Trapped in this eternal construct of recurring thoughts and the constantly repeating flow of tears, my mind finally ebbed away to the hoped-for tranquillity of sleep, in which, for some reason, I found peace in the last few days because they were filled, as usual, not with dreams but oblivion. 

I don't know when I woke up again, but it was dark outside. It could have been several hours or days. It didn't matter to me. What did matter was that my body demanded to go to the bathroom, which I tried to avoid more and more lately.

With slogged steps, I trotted as lifelessly as one could imagine into the bathroom and was forced, of course, to look directly into the mirror. The mirror, however, was simply black. There was no reflection, only endless devouring bottomless depth. I just shrugged my shoulders. It was essentially better than what I usually found in there. 

After my duty was done, I went back to bed. Along the way, I picked up the cell phone, which surprisingly hadn't suffered any damage. Back in the cradle of my depression, I turned it on again. The bright light of the screen blinded me for a moment as much as if I had looked directly into the sun.

Shortly thereafter, countless new messages and missed calls popped up. I looked at the date and time displayed and notices two things. Firstly, today was the class reunion. And secondly, it was four in the morning. Before I even started to think further about it, I looked at the missed messages—most of them were from Dan. 

I scrolled and read, scrolled and read. They asked me what was going on, if I was okay, or if something had happened. Oddly enough, the only message asking if I were coming to the meeting was from Marvin, the person who had called me last week and told me effusively about Laura. 

Somehow it made me happy that people were interested in me after all, even if it were those who had shunned and shamed me at first when I came out. But time actually seemed to make some people better individuals...at least as long as it wasn't me. 

So, I was really toying with the idea of going there and getting my mind off of everything else. Even though it might be a bit uncomfortable after such a long time, at the moment, I just needed human closeness and people to talk to. So I finally decided to answer, but only Marvin and Dan. They would tell the others anyway. 

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I spent the rest of the day searching for clothes that somehow said something about me. Unfortunately, I didn't dare buy any more feminine clothes due to the lack of money and insecurities. At the beginning of my HRT, I was super hyped about all the new stuff. Still, the behavior of the people around me and my ever-worsening social anxiety that I couldn't share with anyone made a lot of the things fade quickly. Some might think that I would regret the decision by now, but that thought never occurred to me and never will. If I were to deny the last shred of who I am, everything would truly be pointless. Besides, I was always tight on money, so I tended to buy clothes that were either work-relevant or good for concealing the body—especially to hide my ridiculously broad shoulders. 

In the end, I opted for my black unisex shirt that covered my black sports bra—which I, even though the changes were minimal overall, due to the fact that after a year, the effects of the medication itself had no more results, needed, because otherwise, it could become very uncomfortable—and a pair of black tight-fitting suit pants, also unisex. I had briefly considered braiding my hair but then decided against it, as I had absolutely no experience in it, and the attempts I had made were disastrous every time. However, albeit all the negligence over the past week, my hair was as fine and smooth as ever after the usual grooming. I let them grow since I started my medication, ensuring that they almost covered my chest. Luckily, I hadn't discovered any split ends in my hair yet, because then I really would have had to go to a hairstylist—which I was terrified of. 

I sighed. In the end, nothing mattered. In my mind, I already decided that today was going to be some sort of decision day for me to see how I should proceed. Or maybe it was all just a bad dream in the end. Soon my doctor would tell me that someone like me also could go through with HRT and finally become the person I wanted to be. A slight laugh escaped me at the fact that I had something like hope after all. 

Contrary to what I always said, I also knew that my appearance right now met the standards of how a person should look like. Unfortunately, this thought made me anything but happy, as it caused me to be misjudged much more often. But somehow, I had to take a step forwards, and if I didn't dare this today, everything would be too late.

I set off after everything was done. The trip would take me two hours, but fortunately, the train to my hometown was always quite empty. As I left the building, I could briefly see a shadow scurrying along in the side angle, but when I turned around, there was nothing there. 

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The ride was completely uninteresting and just like a train ride was supposed to be. I heard a comment about me from time to time; some young girls walked past me and gave me a brief scrutinizing look as if they did not know how exactly to pigeonhole me. My mostly almost androgynous face, which still had undesirable features, and the slight mounds on my chest area sometimes made people puzzle. I must admit that I would really like to see myself through the eyes of another person. How far would my perception differ from theirs? After all, since I started to see the black figure more and more often, I doubted my sanity more and more. But like the conversation with my boss, I could be completely wrong, and the expressions on the faces of the people who walked past me were just filled with utter disgust. All these thoughts haunted me throughout the ride. 

When I finally arrived at my destination, I continued on foot. It took me about thirty minutes to arrive. I could already hear that the event had already begun indoors. The second-rate music of a school band was blaring out the open windows. This tradition had probably never changed. Not that the students were talentless—in fact, they usually were—but the, as far as I knew, the still practicing music teacher who supervised the school band was simply absolute garbage and pushed her opinion and how the students had to play upon everyone. 

I saw a group of young men standing at the entrance and finally identified them as my old school friends. Then, just as I was about to walk up through the gate leading up to the building, the creature from my dream emerged sideways from the path, shaking its head slightly. I ignored it. I had absolutely no desire to deal with my hallucinations right now.

LittleVixen

Thanks for reading!

 

The next chapter

Spoiler

Chapter 7—The Storm

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will be the last really depressing one. After that, the story becomes much more lighthearted and magic and fluffy moments finally appear.