HERMAPHRODITE

Finding Herself.

Sirens.

Shouts.

Orders.

All she could hear from afar, but she didn't want to hold on.

She wanted, needed, longed ,to let go. This wasn't her world. This wasn't her place.

She wanted to break free.

Even in her faint state, she struggled to remove the oxygen plug. She didn't need the air.

"Tie her down, she's removing the oxygen!"

"Bring the IV!"

"Bandage her wrists, she's loosing too much blood! "

"Speed up, she needs to get to the hospital in no less than twenty minutes. "

Just. Let. Me. Die.

Silent, cold, dead tears fell from her eyes.
Memories of her being rushed with a stretcher to the ambulance.

Her mother, sinking to her knees, sobbing with a heaving pain.

Her little sister, hugging her dad close, crying into his shirt.

Her brother, leaning by the door, eyes closed, tears falling down.

Her,the ironic middle child.

Willing to let go.

****************************

"She's awake. "The echoing whisper from her mom woke her up.

The ceiling was a blinding white. The walls were white. The sheets were white. Her gown was white.

But her soul was black as coal.

"Sweetie. "Tears dropped on her hand, which was grasped in a clutch with her mother's.

She did not have the strength to look at her. Not a single surge of energy to tilt her head.

So she looked up, up towards the heavens, and wondered why.

"Maybe we should leave her alone for a while. "She heard her dad whisper.

"I don't want my sister to die. "She heard her little sister say,and later her muffled cry, and knew someone was hugging her. Her brother.

"No. "Her mom protested in a whisper"I'm never leaving her side. Not ever. "

She was mute. She was numb. She was sore.

But she no longer had any tears left to cry.

She only had one question.

"What am I? "

*************************

And here she was, sitting in a psychologist's office,her body present, but her presence so many miles away.

"How was your day? "The plump lady with glasses asked.

How was her day? How was her day?

My best friend refused to talk to me.
The cheer leading squad left a bunch of jock straps in my locker.
Three people passed me a note asking if I was gay.
The kitchen lady gave me a protein shake, along with a look that spoke mountains. It spoke of her disgust.
The school board decided I should have my own washroom, the old school toilets.
Someone spray painted my bag, and wrote HermoBeast.

"It was fine. "She said.

"Did anyone say anything offensive? "

"No, they didn't. "

The psychologist sighed in her chair, she was frustrated.

"I have wonderful news for you,sweetie."

If only  the word wonderful existed in her dictionary.

"I have a special friend who is a surgeon in a renown hospital in India, and he heard about your predicament, so he is here to help. "

A stout black Indian man with a ridiculous hat walked in,and handed her a letter.

She shook her head.

More therapy, she was not up for it.

"Go on."He insisted.

Fine.

She read.

Tears pricked her eyes.

The adults smiled.

"All you have to tell us, now, is who,Morgan?Who do you want to be? "

The lady said, and once again in a counselling office, looking out at the twilight sky, she found her voice.

She found her smile.