The party ended, finally. Ruby said goodbye to Skye and came over to me, beaming. "Nice night, huh?" I commented, trying to stop an awkward silence from happening. 

"Very," she responded, cleanly and coolly. Her voice was a a bit higher pitched than normal, and she looked up slightly. Her eyes were open wider than I'd ever seen them, yet she didn't look creepy. Her hands were clasped together. I noticed that her fingernails were clipped--in fact, there was no white left. She shook her head slightly and she turned to me. "Hey, Jimmy... Why don't you want me to call you by a female name?" 

No. Oh, no. I can't answer this. "I dunno.  I just don't think I'm far enough into transition. Besides, I don't really..." I have to choose my words carefully. One slip up might reveal it all to her. "I don't really have name dysphoria. I don't know why. I guess I just got lucky there." Even though it hadn't struck me for a while, the little voice it the back of my head began its little tap tap tap on the back of my skull. 

Nice lie. No 'name dysphoria'? Well, that's true, I guess. But 'just got lucky'? What a beautiful lie. God, don't you just wish it were true with all your heart? 

I... I wish... NO. I'm not going to listen to you. You just want me to be unhappy, or scared, or, uh, dysphoric. You don't want to help me or anything, You just want to make things worse. 

So smart. If only your classmates had the same perspective, maybe less of them would be dead now. 

And the voice shut up again, leaving me shell-shocked. Ruby shrugged and turned to head into the school. "Well, I have to get to class. See you later, Ja--I mean Jimmy." She waved. I did the same. When she was out of sight, I sighed and entered the school as well. I was lucky that she didn't question me further. Or was I? There was a part of me that wanted to tell her everything. About the pills and the new dysphoria, about not experiencing it before, about the little voice plaguing me in the back of my head. There was a part of me that wanted her to know, just so I wouldn't have to do it alone. So she might help me. 

Please help me. 

----------------

Other than Ruby, five people asked me if they'd like it if they called me by a female name. I told them all no, obviously, although they gave me questioning looks. I just wanted to disappear into the void and never, ever come back. Instead, I ignored their looks and remarks and began to head home. 

Every day was worse. 

Every day was awful. 

Every day was a fresh hell. 

I kicked a tree. It hurt my foot. I did it again and again. I didn't care that it hurt. The tree was the perfect target to take my anger out on, so I did so. It was also a way to stall going inside, because I knew I'd just have to take more deathpills. Even though I knew they couldn't hurt me, it sure did feel like they could. I snatched the two bottles and swallowswallowswallowswallow. They disappeared. I threw the bottles across the room. I was so lucky that my parents weren't home yet. I scrambled to put the pills back and ran into my room. I checked my closet--it had become a bit of a habit. I wouldn't put it past my parents to just fill it with skirts and dresses and other demons like that. 

My clothes were all still there but there was also a prettypretty dress in the back. I pulled it out and tore it in a fit of rage. So glad my parents aren't home so I can do this. I grabbed a match from the kitchen and set the frilly demon aflame. It blackened quickly as the fire climbed the skirt and tiny embers fluttered off of it and onto the floor. The cool tiles extinguished them immediately. The fire climbed and taptaptapped on my hand. "AHH!" I screeched, dropping the flaming demon. So glad the tiles aren't flammable. But the cabinet had wood in it. A flame crawled onto it, desperate to live and grow and expand. Adrenaline caused the pain in my hand to disappear. I grabbed a class and filled it quick. I threw the water onto the cabinet. The fire disappeared but still existed on the demon. I filled it again and again, eventually reducing the demon to soaked ash. Lucky boygirl. Girl. Boy? Boy. Girl? Boy. 

I scooped up the ashes and dumped them down the garbage disposal. They'd never be found there. I grabbed a paper towel and began mopping up the water left on the floor and cabinet. But there were still black burn marks on the bottom corner. 

Suddenly and luckily, I remembered my little art kit from when I was younger. There was a little white tube of paint. It was down in the basement. This'll be close. Mom will be home any second. I ran down the stairs, nearly falling a couple times, and scrambled through boxes of old art. Clumsily, my fingers wrapped around the little white tube. I sprinted back up the stairs, almost falling again, and practically fell into the kitchen. Bright white paint spilled over onto the cabinet. My hands spread across it too, moving the paint around so it covered the whole black mark. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now. They wouldn't exactly be searching for a messed up section of paint on the bottom of the cabinet. I used to paper towel to clean up the white goop that spilled, and threw it away. I sighed. It was all cleaned up. I'd basically gotten away with murder! Well, not really, but I burned away the dress! My mom would be suspicious of the missing demon, but oh well. She'd figure she forgot to put it in, or something. 

The door opened. My mom stepped inside. Please don't look in the closet please don't look in the closet please don't— She smiled at me.

"Hi Jamie. How was school?" I cringed.

"It's Jimmy, please call me Jimmy," I pleaded. She didn't even acknowledge me.

"So, Jamie, did you take your pills? Both of them? All four?" She used the name again. I wanted to punch her. I didn't.

"Yes, all four. Please call me Jimmy."

"Okay Jamie, okay. D-Do I smell smoke? Were you cooking? You didn't burn the toast again, did you?" I panicked. Oh, no, the smell of smoke! I forgot about that crap!

"I... Uh..." I stumbled over my words, trying to form a coherent response. She ignored my sputtering and made her way over to the kitchen.