Run Away From Here

Life was hard as a kid who was rebelling against their parents and was hella confused about their gender. That should go without saying, but society doesn’t recognize those people, so I guess it should be said.
In our society, people don’t recognize a lot of stuff that used to be talked about. The LGBTQ community went into the shadows after 2012, and people with mental illnesses were considered people without problems. They were forced to shut up. That’s what you did. Just shut up.
So, take a maniac depressed kid and an anxious, depressed transgender and put them with the most powerful woman on earth. Yep, our mother is the boss of the Scarecrow Unit.
When I was born, she was only eighteen. She had already decided that I was going to be just like her when I grew up, and when Mikey was born two years later, he was known as a kinda useless child. He looked more like my father, who died while she was pregnant with Mikey.
I didn’t look like either of my parents, which is why I always thought something else went wrong. I should’ve been a boy, and I should’ve been looking more like one of my parents.
I took care of Mikey my whole life. He was my best friend from a young age, always playing games with me when we were supposed to be cleaning or some other shit. He was always there for me, and he seemed to understand that I was stuck in the wrong body more than my parents did. My parents said it was something I’d grow out of, but Mikey believed me. He said he didn’t feel like a boy, but not a girl either. He was more…genderless.
I always showed him my art, which I wasn’t supposed to do either. Creativity was bad, but I had tons of it in me. I showed him my artwork, I told him stories, I raised him the way my parents should’ve raised me, and he loved it. I did too.
--
“Mrs. Way, for the last time, stop drawing that useless art or you’ll be expelled.” I glared at our headmaster, and shook my head. I was sitting in his office for the second time that week.
“Why should I? What’s so wrong about my art, it’s a way of expression!”
“You know exactly why you should not do things like that. There is no such thing of expression here, we are here to teach you and you are here to learn.”
“This place is shit.”
“Do you want to be expelled?”
“Yes! That’s what I’ve tried telling you for the last ten fucking years, but you never do it! My brother is homeschooled, why the hell can’t I be?”
“You’re meant for greatness, Genevieve. Your brother is not.” Anger was boiling inside of me, and I stood up out of my chair.
“My brother is hella better than me; I’m done with this shit. Why won’t you let me go?” Our headmaster rubbed his eyes, letting out a slow sigh.
“You know why.” Of course I did. My mother was paying big money for me to continue to be in this shitty school, and I was not to be expelled or our headmaster would be sent to prison. She could do that, seeing as she was such a big name.
“Fine. But as long as I’m here, I’m not going to conform with your rules. I’m not like the other zombies here, I’m different, and it’s time you fucking accepted that.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to call your mother about that.” Headmaster said with a low sigh.
“See if I care.” With that, I turned around, leaving him and his tired and overall done expression behind me.
Truth was, I did care. I didn’t need my mom hearing about me drawing in class again. She couldn’t do much, though; just stop me from going outside for a week and seeing Frankie, but that didn’t matter. Frank was used to me being grounded, even if I was now seventeen years old.
I didn’t realize where I was heading until I pulled myself out of my anger and thoughts. I was walking outside, and that seemed like a brilliant idea, even if there were two more hours of school left to go.
I didn’t know what my mum would say when she heard that was drawing, but honestly, I didn’t give a shit anymore. I was wearing thin down to the core, life was horrible and there was no way around life anymore; I was a girl, I was part of society, I was part of BL/ind. There was no way to avoid it.
That’s who I was now. And sadly that’s who I would always be.
I decided to walk home, and talk to Mikey about all the shit going through my head. He and Frank were the only ones who would listen to me, and talking to them always made me feel a little bit better.
--
“Mikey! I’m home!” I yelled, and I waited until I heard the sound of Mikey rushing down the stairs.
“You’re cutting school again?” He asked with a laugh, and I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, the Headmaster was yelling at me for my art again. Stupid, huh?” I laughed, but stopped once I noticed he was staring at me with a frown.
“Gee…”
“What?”
“You were binding again, that’s what.” I quickly looked down to see my chest flatter, which would be a good thing, but Mikey was smart enough to know how dangerous it was to bind with bandages.
“It was only once.” I mumbled, shrugging and falling onto the couch nearby.
“It’s not only once; this is the fifth time this month!”
“Well, once you come up with some magical way to make me look less like a fucking girl, you tell me, Mikey! While you figure that out, let me go to school and be called by my birth name and all the other shit I have to go through, just to come home and have my brother on my back too!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for yelling at you.” Mikey backed away, and caused me to fall back and let out a groan.
“I’m sorry, I just…I’m so done with today. And with tomorrow. And with forever after that.”
And forever after that.

Notes