wrong number connection

Chapter 11: Lyndon's Struggles at Home

The air in Lyndon’s house always felt heavy. He didn’t know if it was the constant tension between him and his mother, or if it was the fear of what would happen if he ever let his guard down. All he knew was that when he walked through the front door, he was on high alert. Every sound made him tense. Every word that came from his mother felt like it could be a barb, a blade aimed directly at him.

His mother had always been cruel, but since he’d come out as trans, the venom in her words had only grown sharper. At first, she’d pretended to ignore it, but now it was all she seemed to focus on. She refused to even use his name, calling him by his deadname in front of anyone who would listen. Every day was a battle for her approval, a fight for something that never came.

Lyndon had never been good at standing up to her, not when she had the power to ruin his life with a single word. He had always learned to keep his head down, to be quiet, to pretend like everything was fine. But everything wasn’t fine.

He sat on his bed now, his knees drawn up to his chest as he stared at the wall. The weight of it all felt suffocating. It had been a particularly bad evening. His mother had screamed at him for hours about how he was ruining the family, how he would never be a real man. That night, the pain was sharp enough to make his whole body ache. He had barely been able to keep his tears in check, the sting of the insults and the rejection burning through him.

As he lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his phone buzzed in his hand. It was a message from Natasha, as it always was when he needed someone the most. His heart skipped a beat. There was always comfort in hearing from her. She had a way of making him feel less alone, like maybe things could get better, even if he couldn’t see how yet.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Natasha’s message appeared on the screen. It was simple, but it felt like a lifeline.

Lyndon swallowed hard, unsure of how much he wanted to say. It felt easier to keep things bottled up. But Natasha had a way of breaking through his walls, even when he didn’t want her to. She had become the one person he could talk to without fear of rejection, and for that, he was grateful. But part of him was scared—scared of how much he had come to rely on her, how much he was starting to need her.

“I’m not okay,” Lyndon typed, the words coming easier than he expected. “I just got back from fighting with my mom. She’s not ever going to accept me. She keeps telling me that I’m not real, that I’ll never be a real man.”

He hesitated before sending it, unsure if he was opening up too much. But the weight in his chest was too much to carry alone.

The response came quickly, as it always did with Natasha.

“I’m really sorry, Lyndon. I know it’s tough, but you’re real. You’re more than real.”

The reassurance was kind, but it didn’t make the ache inside him go away. It didn’t make the words his mother had shouted at him any less painful.

“She’s always going to make you feel like you’re not enough. But you have to know that she’s wrong. You are enough. You don’t need anyone’s approval to be who you are.” Natasha’s message was a steady reminder, but Lyndon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing in her words. He didn’t need to be told he was enough. He needed to be seen.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” Lyndon typed, his thumb hesitating over the keys. “It feels like every day is a fight. And I’m scared of being rejected if I tell anyone the truth—about my mom, about me. I don’t want to lose people. I don’t want to lose you.”

The admission felt like a weight had been lifted, but it also made his chest tighten with fear. Could he really trust Natasha with everything? Could he trust her to understand? He knew she had her own struggles, but this—his mother’s abuse—felt like something too big to share. He didn’t want to burden her.

But Natasha’s reply was swift and sure.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Lyndon. I’m here for you, no matter what. And you won’t lose me. I’ve got your back. Always.”

Lyndon let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his worries had lessened, just for a moment. He wished he could believe her fully. But there was always that fear—that voice inside him whispering that everyone would leave once they found out the truth. That his life was too messy, too broken, for anyone to really want to be a part of it.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay here, but I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Lyndon typed, feeling the words pour out before he could stop them. “I don’t know how to make things better. I don’t know how to be strong enough.”

There was a pause in the conversation, long enough for Lyndon to start second-guessing his openness. Maybe he had said too much. Maybe he was asking for too much.

But Natasha’s response was simple, and it felt like a light in the darkness.

“You don’t have to figure it all out right now. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s enough. But you also need to start thinking about your future. You don’t have to stay in this situation forever. You deserve better than this.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected. He didn’t know if he was ready to hear them, but they were true. His mom’s cruelty had kept him trapped in a life that didn’t feel like his own. Every day was a survival game—getting through the day without another blow, without another heartless word. He hadn’t allowed himself to dream of anything more, because it had felt impossible. But Natasha was right. He deserved better. He could have better.

“I don’t know how to leave. I don’t know where to go,” he typed, his thumb shaking as he hit send.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” Natasha replied. “But you do have options. Maybe not today, but soon. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here to help you find your way.”

Lyndon closed his eyes, his breath slow and steady. For the first time in a long while, he let himself imagine a future where he was free. Free from his mother’s cruelty. Free to be himself without fear. It wasn’t easy to picture, but it didn’t feel impossible anymore.

“Thank you, Natasha. I… I think I’m ready to start figuring it out. Maybe I can find a way out of here.”

The reply came almost immediately.

“You’ve already taken the first step. And that’s more than enough.”

Lyndon smiled softly, feeling a sense of warmth spread through him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out. He didn’t have to do it alone. And for the first time, the future didn’t feel so dark.