DIFFERENT

Suicide

There once was a young, creative, and handsome young boy named Spade. Who never made a mistake, and was always at the top of his classes. He acted so perfect during the day, but crumbled at night. He always thought about how different he was from the world. Mentally, Emotionally, and Socially, He was a Boy. But physically, he was a girl. He never told his parents. They thought 'oh he's just in that TomBoy phase. Every kid goes through it.' So of course they didn't mind HIM having short hair, and never wearing skirts or dresses.
         Until one day, Spade walked into the living room where his parents where sitting. He looked both if them in the eyes, almost crying. "M-mom...D-dad....I have to tell you something" He knew his father was Transphobic. Yet he never knew if his mom was. "I'm trans." He looked away as his father stood. "Samantha Flynn Skye. You are a woman and you will be nothing more. You hear me?" Tears quickly filled Spades eyes, "n-no. That's not true...I'm a boy..." H
is father walked up to him. "Listen here. We will not have you acting This way. Go to your fucking room." He looked at his mom, who was looking away. "You heard me. Go. Right now."
       Looking at his mom again, he ran to his room slamming the door. He threw himself onto his bed, crying harder than he had ever cried. "I hate you!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.
        A few hours past when his father came in. "Samantha. You will never be a boy. You know that right? You know that I do not accept that into my life. The reason I do what I do, is because I don't love you. I knew you were going to try to pull this kind of shit. So you know what?" Tossing a switch blade to Spade, "go on, cut your wrists and hopefully, I won't have to have such a fucking disappointment of a child in my life." He slammed the door behind him.
      Spade sat there staring at the blade, "h-he...doesn't love me..." He stared at the small blue floral box that he was given for his birthday. His mother ga
ve it to him to put notes into it. Instead, it was filled with dangerous, dark secrets no on  knew about.
       He threw the knife onto the desk, and started crying again. Eventually he just passed out. Not able to stay awake much longer.
          When his mom came to check on him, the room was dark, and looked empty. "Sam-I mean, Spade? Are you awake sweetheart?" She slowly walked into the room. Spade sat up on his bed. "Yeah mom, I'm awake." She walked over to sit next to him. "I know your father is transphobic. I'm sorry. But I'm not. I love  You for you. You can be whoever you want. Okay? And I have a little something for you." She handed him a small bag. It's just something to help you look the part. Softly smiling at him, he opened the bag and started crying again. Yet he was smiling. "M-mom..thank you" he hugged her. She bought him a binder. Something to help him feel more like him.
        She hugged back and smiled. "I love you spade. I'm so glad to call you my son." She
smiled again and kissed him softly on the head.
           Spade was as happy as he could ever be. His mother accepted him for who he was. He felt closer to the man he was supposed to grow up to be.
         A few months past, he had been home alone waiting on his mom and dad to come home. When he got a text from his dad. "Samantha, your mother died. She was hit by a car and the car swerved into on coming traffic. I'm sorry." Staring at his phone, not believing what he just read. "N-no...That's....No..." He threw his phone onto the couch and ran to his room. Picking up the small floral box, opening the lid and pulling on the little piece of tape. He had a blade, taped to the top. He saved this one. It was special. It had been the sharpest one he had ever had.
          Pushing the blade against his wrist, he dragged it across 4 times on each arm. Deep, thick cuts formed. Blood slowly dripping off his arm. He went into the bathroom to clean them.
        It hadn't been the first tim
e he did this. So he knew how to stitch without going to the hospital. Taking the wrap from under his sink, he wrapped up his arm.
        Finishing before his dad came home. He hid the blade and threw on his jacket hiding the bandage wrap. "H-Hi dad...." He looked at the front door. His dad stared at him. "Shut the fuck up Samantha. Go to your room." He slammed the door, leaving spade in the living room. Staring at the ground he slowly walked back to his room.
        Months went by, without his mom. Each day, His father came home drunk. Each day, His father beat him. And each night, new cuts, new scars. It was hell without his mom. He didn't want to keep living. He was done. He was seriously done this time. He pulled a small box from under his bed. A rope was laying inside. Tying one end to the fan he wrote in giant letters "I'm sorry..." and left the page on the desk. He made 10 deep final cuts, and tied the end around his neck.
       Kicking the chair over, he gasped for air get
ting his final words out "I-I love you mom" and everything went quiet. No motion besides the small boys swaying body, hanging from the ceiling. A single tear, ran down his cheek. And it was finally over. He was gone. To never be able to return.