Bound

1-3

chapter one

i'll start off by saying this.
elisa is beautiful.
she's my transgender best friend, and she is stunningly gorgeous. she doesn't look like a girl or a boy - she looks sufficiently androgynous. and she is what starts the worst conversation of my life with my dad.
"can i hang out with elisa on saturday?" i say to my dad.
he sighs. i think it's a reasonable request; saturday is three days away. "i thought he dropped the elisa thing," he says.
i'm shocked. where the hell did he get that from? i formulate my thoughts for a moment.
"you can't just 'drop' who you are," i say defiantly. he sighs again.
"adam isn't elisa," he says. "he's just a normal teenage boy."
"dad, really? listen to me for a second. who are you to tell elisa who she is? you can suggest who you think i should be, but you have no authority over elisa's life. if she's transgender, that's none of your business."
"but he's not transgender, he's mentally ill. why can't you see that?"
"because i accept people for who they choose to be. if elisa says she feels like a girl, that's what matters. it's not a mental illness, it's a bodily condition. it's a physical issue. it's not a mental problem."
"but-"
"but nothing! i know you're my father and i'm supposed to respect you, but i can't respect someone who doesn't respect my closest friend. i don't care what you have to say about it, i've heard quite enough." i stand up and walk away. he's speechless.
i take the stairs two at a time and close the door to my room. i pull my black duffel bag down from the top of my closet and start stuffing clothes into it. i've made up my mind.
this isn't the first time something like this has happened. he's always harping on LGBTQ+ people, which includes his own daughter(i'm a lesbian). of course, he doesn't know that it's real, and not just puberty. there's no way i would come out of the closet under his iron regime. but now it's time to take a stand for myself, and for all my queer friends.
i finish packing clothes and move to toiletries. i quietly open the door of my bedroom, and hear my dad talking to himself from downstairs. i don't even want to hear it.
i pull my toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bathroom, along with my brush, makeup bag, some period supplies(you never know), and deodorant. i take them back to my room and silently close the door. i shove my armful of toiletries into one of the side pockets on my duffel bag and zip it shut.
i change into a black sweatshirt, black jeans and black vans and pull my hood up over my distinctive, shaggy purple hair. i open my window, pop the screen out, and slide out onto the snowy roof. i scooch over to the drainpipe, drop my bag to the ground below and shimmy down the pipe. i'm surprised it can hold my weight, but i make it safely to the ground, as quiet as the snow beneath my feet.
i brush the snow off of my bag and butt, and start walking.
i walk along the biggest road in our town, surprisingly dead for a wednesday night. it must be the weather - nothing but ice and snow for days. but now, the sky is blessedly inactive.
it starts snowing after half an hour, by which time i'm halfway to elisa's house. i take a detour to some of the less travelled roads to avoid being seen. it's probably eleven pm or so, but i still don't want to risk it.
snow is falling thick and fast, quickly blanketing the roads. i knock on the door, my red, cold hand aching. elisa answers, and does a double take.
"beth?" she says. i can see the lights on behind her, and i can smell popcorn.
"hi," i say, my breath spilling out into the frigid air. "um, can i come in?"

chapter two

elisa and her mom are watching a christmas movie when i interrupt. after telling them what had happened, elisa gives me a giant hug and little forehead kiss, and tells me of course i can stay. her mom, hanna, verifies. "i understand what it's like to not be able to live with your parents, and i'm all on your side," she says. "i've never liked your father. i hope you find our accommodations well." she has elisa show me to the upstairs loft, which has a daybed next to a window.
"it's nice, but small," elisa says, hands on her hips.
"that's perfectly fine," i say, stashing my bag under the desk in the corner. i look around at the room, and something breaks inside of me.
"elisa," i say, tears welling up in my eyes. i look at her and they all fall loose, my eyeliner spilling over my cheeks and down my neck. she doesn't say a word, just envelops me in her arms.
i cry for maybe five or so minutes, elisa rocking me back and forth, rubbing my back. when the last of the sobs fade away, she looks me in the eye.
"it's hard to leave everything you know," she says, sitting me down on the daybed. "it's to be expected that it's a big blow on your emotions." we sit in silence for a moment or three until she suggests we go finish the movie. i agree, grateful for anything to distract me from my wretched thoughts of my father's disregard for elisa's life.
after wiping my blackened face, finishing the movie and some popcorn, hanna heads to bed citing old age, to which elisa replies that barely forty isn't old. i go up to the loft, rifle around in my bag for a minute before i realise that i forgot pyjamas.
"elisa," i call down to her, "do you have pyjamas i can borrow?"
"no," she says from downstairs. "i have some you can have." i come downstairs and follow her to her room, where she shows me these cute blue flannel pyjamas that fit me perfectly. we hug and head off to bed, turning the lights off in our wake.
i turn the light off in the loft after closing the door, and i sit on the daybed for a few minutes, contemplating what i've done. was it really the right choice?
yes, yes it was, because my father is extremely belligerent and i can't live with such a disrespectful human being.
i pull back the covers, tuck myself in and fall asleep quickly.

chapter three

when i wake up, it's 1:30, and elisa's gone at school. i walk downstairs, sit down at the table and stare out the window.
hanna walks in. "oh, good morning, beth," she says, smiling at me.
"good morning," i reply, giving her the best smile i can muster, which is barely more than a twitch of my mouth.
"what exactly happened last night?" she says, looking concerned.
"i'm sick. sick of my dad's complete disregard for any human life but his own," i say. i spit the word "dad" like poison. "my mom wouldn't have put up with this. i know she supports queer rights. she would love elisa. i don't understand how she hung around with my father for so long."
hanna takes a long look at me.
"i know your mom would love elisa, too, but... it makes me sad, as a parent, to see a child so upset at their parent. i know, i know, he's different from you, but can't you at least try to love him?"
"i thought you said you were on my side," i say, feeling offence in my stomach like a giant black snake, coiled and ready to strike. "i thought you said you understood."
"i just wish you had tried harder."
"you think i haven't been trying my whole life? i know he's hated gay and lesbians since forever. when i was small and kissed my friend akeno hitachiin in 2nd grade, he tried to brainwash me out of liking girls. he sat me down and told me many things, including 'girls are for men'. i remember that vividly. how could i forget such horrible agony? i wished i could scream at him that who i love doesn't matter, but he was terrifying to my second grade self. he overreacted and it crushed my spirit. i learned early that i didn't want this to happen again, so i let him forget it. but i have been trying my whole life to make him understand that it shouldn't matter to him what other people chose to be. i tried, but i can't anymore." by the time i finish, angry tears are rolling down my face and hanna's crying as well.
"oh, beth, i'm so sorry. i had no idea. i thought it was typical teenage rebellion."
"typical teenage..."
"never mind. i just didn't know how deep it went."
there's nothing to say to that, so i go with:
"i...um. i'm gonna head upstairs and listen to music or something," i say.
hanna sniffs and nods. i leave her in the kitchen, and tears start anew. typical teenage rebellion? my father emotionally abused me as a young kid and it left a rough impression of him in my mind.
all of a sudden, a whirl of emotions strike me - shame, anger, sadness. it's a deep sadness and it hits my very core right as i get to the loft.
i shut the door and let the sadness flow down my face and soak into my shirt. i collapse on the ground, slamming my fists down and gripping the carpet like a lifeline. i cry, squeeze my eyes shut, and all i can see is my father's angered face telling me that my gender belongs to men. i scream and screech, and i finally think to open my eyes.
thankfully, the face doesn't hang around.
i roll onto my back, breathing heavily. i'm infinitely glad that i ditched my father.
"beth?" hanna calls.
"yeah?" i reply, sitting up.
"i just got off the phone with your father."
terror freezes my heart to the centre of it.
i try to breathe and stand up. i slowly make my way to the door and open it. walking downstairs, i say, "and?"
"and i didn't tell him anything..." hanna says, trailing off.
"besides?" i say.
"besides that i saw you walk past our house last night. which is basically true."
"shit. now he's gonna come over here and search. it's just like him to do that." i feel the usual panicky feeling of a week-long anxiety attack beginning.
"i seriously doubt it," hanna says. "he sounded convinced. he said, 'thanks for something to go on.' he cares, beth."
"he wouldn't if he knew me," i say.
hanna sighs and folds her arms as i step off the stairs where i had paused.
"he would care, just in a negative way."
"explain?" i ask, confused.
"he would think it would damage his 'reputation' to have a lesbian daughter. he would care about that very much."
"oh. i just didn't see that as caring."
the sadness hits me again. i realise i don't want my father to hate me, i want him to accept me, and i also realise that he never will.
hanna walks away to her room, saying she has something to do, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
i stare at my reflection in the microwave, my blank face and bright, messy hair. soaked shirt, swollen eyes, dark skin. i'm a mess. that's the best way to describe it.
i sit down on the ground and put my face in my hands, which still ache from my death grip on the carpet. i don't cry this time, but just sit in silence. i stare at the tile for what feels like an eternity before a terrible thought comes to my mind.
i stand up as if in a daze, and suddenly a steak knife is in my hand and my wrist is bleeding and i don't feel it, i just feel numb and my whole arm is red and the blood is dripping into the sink and i keep going because i don't have enough reason to feel numb and like shit and i'm worthless and stupid and i deserve to die and and and
i'm in her arms
in the emergency room
out
blackness
darkness
i can't feel