7 years ago
The car roared awake as I turned the key and jiggled the shifter to make sure it was in neutral, it was a warm April Monday morning, 6 am, and my brain was still heavily addled by sleep as I shifted into first and gingerly exited the garage. It would be a 30-minute drive to work, and I was seriously looking forward to turning my brain off and letting the roar of the engine take over my emotions. They''d been all over the place recently, to be honest.
I was on the highway on ramp before I knew it, shifting into third, dropping the gas pedal, and letting the turbocharged engine wind towards the limiter. The feeling was nothing short of bliss, and I took a deep breath as I was slammed into the back of my seat, watching the speedometer climb towards the triple digits. I had saved for years to get this car, and I was damn well going to make every mile count.
The thoughts, however, stuck around like a plague, I just couldn''t clear my head of the idea that something was very wrong. I was so sick of working this menial job, managing a team of pugnacious mechanics was fucking exhausting, and the energy in the shop was often downright dreadful. I was sick of getting dirty, sick of hearing lewd jokes, and sick of manual labor.
A driver honked as I cut him off, clearly pissed off at the kid driving his sports car like it deserved to be driven, I giggled and turned the radio up, grinning ear-to-ear as the sound of Bawitdaba by Kid Rock mixed with the engine hum. I let the music of the moment build to an absolute crescendo, and downshifted again as I made to pass another driver who clearly had nowhere to be this morning.
I think what pissed me off the most was the constant drone of my name from my coworkers mouths, something about it always sounded like gears grinding to me. It was a fine name, a normal one even, but it resounded in my bones so wrongly. I was so fucking sick of it all, too masculine, to rough, to harsh. I needed something <i>better</i>. This was not who I really was, and I was damned tired of pretending. But what could I do? Quitting would mean not making payments, maternal judgement, and a whole lot more bullshit. I was good at what I did, I just fucking hated doing it, was that reason enough to stop?
The song climaxed, and my brain fucking <i>snapped</i> before I even knew what happened. I slammed the accelerator and started rocketing towards the next exit, I had no more room for thoughts, or doubts, just action. Damn the consequences, today I would <i>live</i>. I was off the highway before I knew it, turning the car around and accelerating back on in the opposite direction.
Home, home, I would go home, pack my bags, and drive upstate. I would drive to my mom''s vacation home upstate and stay there until my mind was settled. Fuck this job, fuck this life, fuck it all. I needed a goddamn change. My emotions soared as I settled on the decision, and I could damn well hear a voice in my head singing its approval at my actions.
I pushed the car at ever higher speeds down the highway, relief washing over me as the finality of my decision settled into my brain, I was back at my home before I knew it. I pulled the car into the garage, hopped out, and packed my suitcase for the journey in record time, taking only my essentials; some clothing, toiletries, and the large locking safe box that held my collection of feminine items. Free, up there I would be free.
The trip up to the cabin by Lake George took a few hours, and I dodged numerous calls from my boss and coworkers, completely unwilling to explain myself. My head was not in the correct state for that. I felt a bit bad about the no-show, but I committed myself to not waste mental energy on a bullshit job. I did have to call my mother, explaining that I would be staying at Tommy''s house for a few days after work to comfort him out of a mental health episode. She bought the lie with little question, Tommy and I were inseparable, and often spent weeks at each other''s places for various reasons.
My mind went blank with serenity as I pulled into the lake house driveway and took in the sights and sounds of it all. It was a modest home, two floors, wooden exterior, and a large yard in the back. The cabin was surrounded by old conifers on all sides, affording the occupants a sense of isolation despite the fact that the neighbors'' homes were only a hundred feet away. I had spent the trip up blasting rock music and smoking weed out of a pipe that I kept in the center console, so the sudden quiet and calm had the effect of stunning me out of the chaotic mindset and into a pleasant reverie.
I moved with a daze as I unpacked the car, thumbed in the front door code, and made my way up to my bedroom on the second floor, luggage in tow. I took in a deep breath as I set the suitcase down, stared at my bed, and allowed myself to crash into it, setting into the deep comfort of the bedding. It was at that moment that the emotions washed over me with full force, the effort of holding them back for the past few hours had been expended, and there was nothing left to hold back the tide wave. Tears came to me hot and fast, and I just let myself cry over nothing, over everything as long as I needed to. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Why the fuck was I doing this? What on earth was I even doing? To what end? I needed a fucking plan, something to alleviate the awful sense that my life was not enough.
It was then that I remembered the girl in the coffin. She''d been locked in there for years at this point, and rarely let out. She had no life, no joy, no real experience of the world, she was nothing but a silent companion with me throughout my life. Her hunger for life was seldom appeased, little but table scraps every few months. She was roaring in the back of my head, feeding on my emotions as I finally let them slip through the walls I''d so carefully constructed. I endeavored to let her out while I was here, sure, it wasn''t the real world, but It was the best I could safely offer her, she deserved as much.
The shift was seamless due to the emotional nature of the moment, one second I was crying, then it was her, both for wildly different reasons. I allowed myself to rest in the coffin for a while, and let her be free. The crying slowed briefly, and she shifted in the bed, wiping away the ears, and staring at our hands for a long moment. We weren''t really separate, just two sides of the same person, one constructed, and the other factual. Yet, the lie got to live, its construction having been so labored and detailed that it had a mind and personality of its own.
She got up, and stared in the full-body mirror next to the bed, just stared and wept at the nature of the vessel she was trapped in. It felt so very wrong to her, so foreign and wrong. The skin was rough, the stubble poking through the face despite shaving only this morning. The features were chiseled and sharp, with short flowy hair adorning them. The vessel was undoubtedly handsome, but the face was of somebody she would date, not her own. But these things could be fixed, she could sculpt this body into one that made her happy if allowed to. That thought was what settled her brain and emotions. She had some time to be free, and then we would negotiate a treaty over this vessel. I sighed at the thought, but acquiesced with little argument, the current state of things was clearly not working.
We stood, and she dressed us as she saw fit with the limited options, borrowing a top from our mother as well. Then she adorned herself with makeup as well as she could, and walked down the stairs. The tequila burned our throat as she poured herself a generous glass and took a long slow sip. I could hear her thoughts from my coffin, they were so very quiet for once, she just hummed a song to herself and danced around the living room, glass in hand, clearly grateful for the opportunity.
----
The days passed peacefully as she drank, smoked, cooked, and ate. She fed her mind, body, and soul until she was ever so content with the modicum of life she had. She played games, and spoke on the phone to our friends, assuring them that we had just taken a short vacation upstate, and would be home in a few days. She spoke to our mother as well of course, playing music behind the scenes to mimic the sounds of Tommy''s room. But she mostly just spent her days enjoying the freedom, relaxing in the hot tub, listening to music, and staring out through the windows. She imagined what her life would look like had she been allowed out unregulated. It was nothing magnificent, she just imagined going about her regular life, but in the right body. She let her mind wander to more fun things too of course, clubbing with friends, going shopping, being wanted in her new body. Our heart was ever so full of the joy her imaginings provided that it even appeased me as I laid dormant.
Before I knew it was Saturday night, and we eventually agreed that Sunday would be our last day here, the time was well spent, and we both had enough information to make informed decisions by this point. We would spend the night negotiating, and whatever agreement we came to by morning would be final. It was with that thought in mind that she grabbed a bottle of wine, dressed up comfortably for the night air, and made her way to the backyard. The night was pleasantly frigid after the warm day, and the sky was void of clouds. The lack of light pollution in the area allowed our eyes to quickly adjust as she gingerly stepped out into the middle of the yard, and sat upon the grass, taking a moment before laying back and starting into the heavens that ever taunted us.
The "conversation" was silent as we laid there, little more than conflicting thoughts bouncing from opposing corners of our shared consciousness. What would her freedom look like? What would it take to give her a body she would be comfortable in? What would happen to me? Maybe we could merge and seek a stalemate in the middle? We laid there for hours and pondered a million unknowns while our head spun from the wine and cigarettes.
We eventually decided that our family would likely accept only me, and yet she would give them a chance to know her as well. Furthermore, we resolved to give her joint control, allowing her mind and personality to shine through socially until we could give her a vessel she would be comfortable occupying. She would no longer be trapped in that coffin, we would destroy it together and cohabitate as we saw fit. I would present myself when needed, and she would get a greater stake in our life.
The notion scared the ever living fuck out of me, I''d accepted the fact that I was little more than a necessary construct, but the thought of ceding so much control over to her was terrifying. What would she do with our body? How would she handle true freedom? What would happen to me if she was successful? My best hope in that case would be consummation, we would merge, and I would be a part of her forever more. It was a scary idea yes, but I also wanted the best for her, our shared years together told me that she was good at heart, perhaps better than I. She was brave and strong-willed, where I was hardheaded. She was loving and compassionate, where I was cold and distant. She was generous where I was selfish, but most of all, she was driven, while I was complacent. She knew what she wanted, and would burn the world down to get it. That thought settled me and pushed me to acquiesce. She had watched from the background all these years while I made a mockery of the body I was so generously built to inhabit, and that thought broke me fundamentally.
What cruelty was it to build a personality and lock yourself away for decades behind it? What cruelty was it to know the pain it would take to free yourself in such an unforgiving world and choose the easy life, deciding to feel the pain internally instead? What cruelty was it to be forced to pick one form of suffering over another?
She stared off into the Milky Way, those billions of stars seemed to be laughing at us as we stared at each other. They laughed at the whole of humanity, powerless to decide our destiny and stuck living such pointlessly short lives while they reigned in near immortality. She opened our mouth in a curse to their ridicule.
"I will live, and nobody can stop me." She spoke frailly through the tears that poured out at that moment. "I will make this life worthwhile, and I will make the most of every second I get from here on out. Damn the consequences. Damn it all, I will fucking live."