I was sitting in a coffee shop in Darlinghurst. It wasn’t my favourite, but the clean minimalist atmosphere appealed to me. Especially when I was here in the middle of the day. The barista was chatting happily to a stocky man in sandals who I assumed was a regular, but they were the only other people in the cafe. This was how I preferred it. I am chronically anxious, and particularly sensitive to whether I come across to others the way I see myself; a young woman. Today that young woman was wearing black leather ankle boots with a small heel which met long legs clad in black skinny jeans. The outfit was completed with a simple white blouse and a pale yellow cardigan, adding some very welcome colour to my fairly monochrome ensemble, though it was really too hot for a cardigan.

Tucked in a corner, away from prying eyes, I was trying to figure out how on earth I was going to get enough money to move somewhere that I felt more comfortable. Sydney was a great city, for the rich and the privileged. And right now I was neither of those things. I was a broke trans girl trying to be a musician in a city with only the faintest glimpse of a music scene. 

I looked down at my phone again, a message from someone on Housemates. ‘Hi Mia!’ it began, and I smiled warmly. I had legally changed my name almost four months ago but seeing strangers address me that way still filled me with a warm fuzzy feeling of excitement. 

Hi Mia! I am looking for a housemate for a place in Brunswick, Melbourne. The previous tenant just moved out so the place would be available from the 29th November.

Let me know if you have any questions!

Jennifer :)

I stared at the message, still smiling softly from having my name used. These kind of messages were always fairly brief, and usually I ignored them or sent a polite reply kindly thanking them and telling them I wasn’t interested. This one was different however. I was really looking for a place to live, in Melbourne would be ideal for someone in Australia who aspired to perform their own music. I quickly responded that I would love to know more and then sat smiling into my latte for a little. My head was full of thoughts of moving, of being glamorously busy as a musician and being able to maybe even get by without having to work two jobs.

Glancing at my phone again, checking the time and the date. It was nearly mid-afternoon and I had been lost in my thoughts for too long. It was also the 22nd of November. I sighed and pushed my chair back. Standing up, I strode purposefully out of the cafe, muttering soft thanks as I passed the barista. I had a busy week ahead of me.

It was only once I got back to my tiny apartment, had a long, soothing shower, and made myself some tea, that I realised what I had decided to do. All afternoon I had been messaging this Jennifer person, seriously inquiring about the house and her standards. And now I was planning to jump into it. It was affordable, inner city, and she had seemed fairly accepting when I had mentioned that I’m trans. It all sounded ideal. Except that it was in a completely different city where I knew no one and had nothing lined up. Nice one Mia, way to get over excited.

I slumped over and kicked my legs over the side of the couch. I had a bit of money saved up, though I was reluctant to spend it. Years of compulsive spending had lifted when I started HRT and any move back into that worried me. Besides I still had two major and super expensive surgeries to pay for, all my dream gear for my music, and a shoe collection (dreams of which were my guilty pleasure).

I rolled over and stuffed my face into the cushions, letting out a long groan. I always had a habit of worrying about too many things at once. Could I really afford to fly to Melbourne this week and investigate this place? Jennifer seemed blunt but nice enough, but you never know until you really see a person or place in person. I flicked through my phone and shot a message off to Nic explaining the situation.

Of course, I already knew what he would say. Nic was a trans guy and a good friend of mine. He was also a serial enabler and always encouraged me to just do what I want. So of course he assured me that I should absolutely fly down to Melbourne. 

That was the push I needed, and though I cringed at the price of the flights (even the budget airlines seemed to be at maximum rip off price to punish me for deciding last minute) I had soon booked a flight down on the 26th. It would give me a few days to look around and try to make a proper informed decision about whether I liked this place. After spending money on flights, the price looked even more appealing to me than before. 

Even on a Monday evening, Sydney airport was still busy. It was always full of constant swarming masses of travelling suits with their quaint little carry on wheelie bags, as well as hordes of sweaty tourists of every shape and size. I had seen it worse than today but it never made me any more comfortable with the looming presence of so many people. 

Even though it was late and I was indoors, I was still wearing big dark sunglasses. They were basically a form of battle armour for me. Protection from the rest of the world. I finished up with security and strode purposefully onwards, putting in my earphones and pressing play on my favourite album “Ash and Ice”. I was travelling light with a small overnight bag and my handbag. No checked baggage because they charge extra for it. If I really liked the place I would figure out how to get my stuff down to Melbourne too. I could feel a few grim stares coming my way from a few of the middle aged men in suits near my gate. I glared back at the closest one until he looked away. Fuck them, I don’t need their judgement.

I had been feeling cute and like I was passing fairly well, in my tan wedge boots and denim shorts. The bright crimson scarf draped over my black starry blouse probably didn’t help with blending in. I kind of liked the attention honestly, just not when it accompanied those disapproving stares I had felt so many times throughout my transition. Eventually they called for my gate to board and I lined up with the rest of the miserable travellers. I was grumpy now. Stares had rubbed me the wrong way and my flight was about half an hour late.

Fortunately the rest of my journey was uneventful. By the time I got to Southern Cross station I was exhausted and felt like the weight of my bag had tripled since I packed it. The night air was cooling down and felt pleasant against my skin and a soft breeze pushed my curly hair into my eyes. 

As I walked down the street, looking for the fairly average traveller’s hotel I had decided to book for the night, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to raise with a pricking sensation. I paused my music, sorry Fugazi but I need to hear my surroundings right now, and kept walking at a brisk pace. Behind me there were heavy footfalls, their rhythm suggesting something ominous.

Now maybe I was just paranoid, but those heavy footfalls kept following me down the street. Even when it got busier I thought I could sense them behind me. The dull stomp of heavy boots with a lot of weight behind them. Thud thud thud. The sound went round and round in my head as it started to ache. 

My breath was short and flustered as I finally came to the block where my hotel was. Never have I been so happy to see a dingy hotel before! I rushed inside and made my way across the lobby, lit like an old theatre with soft yellow light. I ducked inside the women’s toilets and slammed the door to one of the stalls. It wasn’t until the lock clicked into place that I realised I had forgotten to breathe. I let out a heavy, shaken sigh. My heart seemed like it was trying to break it’s way out of my chest. I still had all my bags with me and I clutched them tightly as I sank down to sit down.

I don’t know how long I waited. It felt like a long time, but it could have been as short as fifteen minutes. I gathered my things, wiped away the tears that had started streaming down my face, and made my way out of the bathrooms. I’m sure I looked like a complete mess with my wild brown curls and smudged mascara, but I didn’t care. I peeked around the corner of the lobby to see if I had been followed in. The lobby was empty except for a bored looking young woman behind the reception desk. Her blonde hair was tied back messily. It seemed like she had had a tiring day. 

Not seeing anyone else, I stood up and made my way over to the desk. “Hello” I said with as much of a smile as I could muster. The receptionist looked up with a slightly pitying look. “Hi, welcome to Blaires. How can I help you?” She went through the line in such an automatic way that it was almost unnerving. Now I was feeling anxious again. I looking around once more and thought I noticed movement outside from the corner of my eye. I turned with a start but couldn’t catch any more.

“Umm… right. I have a reservation here. Mia Blake?” I leaned in and whispered my name, still feeling embarrassingly paranoid. I cringed at myself internally, feeling my cheeks burn red. The receptionist, who wore a badge that read “Hi! My name is Tara”, smiled politely and tapped away at her keyboard. I stood there, wiggling my toes to a song that was only playing in my head while I waited. 

Soon enough I had my room card and I was letting myself in to the small corner room on the fourth floor. It was near the back of the building and I’m sure if I had looked outside I would have been greeted with the concrete facade of the building behind this one, and a rather large collection of air conditioner units. 

Throwing down my bags next to the bed, I was completely exhausted and I let out a long tired sigh. I kicked off my boots, plugged in my phone, hastily wiped my face with a makeup wipe and then threw off all my clothes as I seemed to slowly descend into the stiff hotel bed that was calling to me. I was asleep before I hit the pillow.

I awoke to sirens blaring loudly all around me. So loud and angry as they wailed their song of emergency. I hated it. Why couldn’t they just shut up and let a girl sleep? I waved a hand angrily in the direction of where the window probably was and rolled over. The sirens kept going and I could hear the sound of some near deaf persons TV joining the cacophony.

I groaned into my pillow and kicked my mattress, trying to sulk and pout about being woken up. Immediately I heard a woody clattering and a “plonk” sound which seemed to be moving slowly around me. I threw my pillow weakly at the sound, but it didn’t seem to land anywhere. I let out a frustrated huff and was greeted with my sheets flying off the bed, seemingly torn off by a powerful gust of wind.The wind was getting stronger and I could hear a low rumbling sound joining the melee along with the clatter and wail. 

I could feel my hair blowing around wildly as a hot spark shot through my body. It kept getting stronger and I felt like I was going to explode as bright blue light shone around me. I looked up at what could only be described as a hotel sized cyclone. I screamed as a chair came whizzing past my head, clattering into a wall. There were sparks flying around now, as debris and bedsheets circled around the ceiling. I was panicked. What the FUCK was going on? 

That heat inside was building up again. I was trembling as wild blue hair licked my face and seemed to produce even more sparks. Acting on instinct I threw out my hand towards the window, hoping the energy I felt would follow the path I set to leave my body. I felt a sharp jolt run through my body which threw me backwards into the wall. A bolt which almost seemed to snake around itself with bright blue energy shot through the window, shattering glass outwards onto the street below. Some of the debris followed, the fairly large TV ripped from it’s wall mount tumbling out the window. 

The rest of the hotel furnishings fell to the floor around me. I was shaking and sore and bruised. Had I done that? How the fuck would that work? Beads of sweat stuck to my skin as I tried to pick myself up. I made my way slowly over to the window, gingerly brushing dust off myself and trying to tiptoe around debris.

Outside was a catastrophe. The sirens which had woken me up still blared. Cars were piled up as far as I could see, quite literally in one place. I could see smoke rising around the city and huge black mountains seemed to loom in the distance. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just me, and it wasn't good either.