Posting this story is ... an act of defiance. It's a refusal to hide what I've hidden from others, as well as myself. But it's a dark story. So please, please, be careful. If you think reading about bad things happening to someone might hurt or harm you in any way, the please don't read this.

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My heartbeat quickened when she turned off the light.

It was dark. I couldn't be in the dark. I had to escape, because there was ... something about the dark I couldn't name, but needed to escape from. I tried to find my way to where I thought the door was, but she was holding my hand, and I couldn't reach the door.

She told me it would be okay. I tried to believe her, because I loved her, and I knew she wouldn't let anything bad happen. She then said something about turning on a blacklight.

The idea of a blacklight made no sense to me.

Black wasn't the color of light. It was the color of darkness. Like the darkness surrounding me, and closing in on me, until I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I started not being there.

Then ... there was a click.

A purple light lit up a corner of the room. The light was strange, and dim, but it was light. Even though most of the room was still dark, I stopped not being there. Part of what pulled me back was the light. A bigger part of what pulled me back were the pictures.

The magical pictures glowed in a way I'd never seen before. They were colored with bright shades of green, orange, and yellow. For what may have been the first time in years, I had smiled while someplace that was dark.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, staring at the pictures, but eventually, she pulled at my hand ... towards the darker side of the room. She told me it would be okay when I resisted. I wanted to believe it would be okay, but I couldn't be in the dark. I had to not be there.

And so ... I stopped being there.

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My cheek stung. She was sitting in front of me. Even though I could see better than before, the light was still too dim to make out her face very well. It seemed to go from anger, to fear, to guilt, and then back to anger. She was yelling at me the way in a way that told me I was bad.

At first, I had no idea why she was so mad. Then ... I found my hands where I knew they shouldn't be. I didn't know why they'd been there. As I pulled them away, I knew, deep down, I was very, very bad.

That's why she was yelling. That's why she kept hitting me.

I was crying as I turned. I ran from the bad. I ran from the dark. I ran towards the blacklight that wasn't black, but purple. I finally found the door I'd been looking for. The light nearly blinded me when I opened the door. It wasn't black light, but white. I left the dark, and the bad, in that room.

I started running. I didn't know why I was running. The bright sunlight had taken away that knowing. I just needed to not be there. I had to get away from the dark, and the ... something else.

I wasn't sure what the something else was. There was a blankness where that was. I stopped trying to push past the blankness, stopped trying to figure out why I had been crying, and just ran.

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Some time later, it may have been minutes or months later, I'd been accused of stealing from her. When I said I didn't steal anything, I was accused of lying. I was also warned that I'd be beat worse if I didn't tell the truth.

I was terrified. I didn't want to be beaten, especially for something I didn't remember doing. I also didn't want to admit to something I didn't do. That would be lying, and God hates thieves and liars. I didn't want God to hate me.

And then ... there was a ... someone. And he said the lie I couldn't say. And I was beaten, but not as bad as if he hadn't lied ... or I hadn't lied. But I hadn't lied ... or stolen. Or maybe I did. But whether or not I did either, I knew deep down, I was just ... bad.

This is a dark story. At least, it feels dark to me. Maybe it feels darker than it actually is, because it's something that happened to me. Still ... if reading about bad things happening to people might hurt or harm you in any way, then please don't read this story. This is something I'm writing for my own sanity. It would break my heart if anything I wrote hurt someone. So, if you're not sure you should read this story, then please don't.

Like I said, this is a dark story. It started in a dark room, in a house my family had just moved into. In that room there were three bay windows. Someone tapped on one of those windows. Being curious, I opened the window. Or maybe I was stupid. I was three. What did I know about not opening windows to strangers?

And here, the memory starts to fragment. I have a vague recollection of him coming through the window, and talking to him, and him seeming friendly at first, then ... there's just ... blankness. Next bit of memory I have is being on the mattress on the floor (we had just moved in, and hadn't had time to put the beds together). My hands were pinned above my head. My nose and mouth were covered by a hand. I couldn't breath.

I remember being terrified, but not the exact cause. Maybe it was the not being able to breathe. I remember being told to shut up. After a while of me trying to scream through his hand, he threatened my family. That's when Rage woke up. After a few failed attempts, my teeth found purchase somewhere on the inside of his hand. I bit down hard.

And then ... more blankness. I vaguely remember white hot wrath filling me when I could breathe again. Then ... something happened. Next thing I know, he was gone. I was rolled up in my blankets, screaming for my parents. I think it took a while before I realized one of them was holding me. I think I cried a lot when I did. I also forgot a lot, including Rage.

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A few years later, when I was in first grade, I saw someone who had been bullying me for a while. At the far end of the sidewalk, I saw the bully harassing someone, and Rage woke up. A wrath I'd forgotten filled my chest. I ran down the sidewalk, and rammed the bully. Somehow, even though he was bigger than me, I still knocked him down.

Next thing I know I was sitting on his chest. My fingers were dug into his hair. There was a gutteral growl. It was coming from me, even though it felt like it had to be coming from somewhere else. Rage was slamming the back of his head into the sidewalk. Okay ... it was me. But it also wasn't. Or maybe I just want to believe it wasn't.

I was ringed in by kids my own age. They were cheering me on. I could see a hunger in their eyes. Seeing what was in their eyes made my stomach turn. I'm not sure if Rage noticed them or not. I'm not sure what would have happened if someone hadn't physically picked me up off the bully.

And ... you guessed it ... more blankness. I remember being in deep, deep trouble. I think I'd been beaten for beating someone up, but I don't actually remember what happened. It's like I know *something* happened, and vaguely remember being terrified, but nothing specific.

I guess that's all I have the strength to say for now. I'm a little bit surprised I've gotten this far in writing everything out. I've been half expecting to blank out, and find myself somewhere else. I think I'll just stop writing now, and see if I can get away with submitting this, before the blankness comes.

Wish me luck.

Safe
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

While I managed to keep myself relatively safe most of the time when I was growing up, there were only a few places and times when I felt completely safe. Below is a tiny vignette about one of them.

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When the recess bell rang, I walked across the lunch room as fast as I could without getting yelled at by a teacher. Once I reached the door, I shoved it open, then sprinted down the sidewalk by the school. When I reached the sports field, I raced across the dusty packed earth and dry patches of grass.

I glanced over my shoulder when I was near the far end of the field, then smiled when I saw nobody was in sight. A moment later, the chain link fence was jangling as I climbed it. When I reached the top, I grabbed the huge branch hanging over the fence, pulled myself up, then shimmied towards a rough wooden platform.

Panting as quietly as I could manage, I laid down on the platform, and looked up at the patches of bright blue sky peaking through the deep green leaves. A light breeze ruffled my hair, and cooled my sweaty t-shirt. Even though I didn't dare to say it out loud, I thought the most special word of all.

Safe.

It wasn't something I felt a lot of the time. At school, I was relatively safe ... at least when there was a teacher nearby. At home, I was mostly safe, so long as I didn't break any rules, and managed to avoid discovering new rules I wasn't allowed to break.

But here, up in the tree, hidden from view by both teachers and other kids, I felt safe. Even though I knew it wouldn't last, I grinned up at the tree, patted the rough bark of one of its branches, and thanked it for giving me a special place, where I could really, truly, feel safe.

While I've written a couple of stories that dealt with suicide, I've never had the nerve to describe my own experience. Until now. Please ... please be careful, before reading this story, and make sure it's something you feel you can handle. Knowing other people are okay is a lot more important to me than knowing this story is read.

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It was ... a small cut.

Well, it was relatively small.

But ... it was big enough for me to escape.

When I say me, I don't mean this hunk of flesh people point to when they point to me.

I was talking about the red, fluid me; the real me, hiding in the cage that had been mangled by testosterone.

The cut through which I was escaping had been easier than I'd expected to make.

After shoving the last rack of dishes through the industrial dishwasher, and stacking the last of the plates where the chefs could easily reach them, my boss had asked me to take out the trash. After tossing the trash into the dumpster, one of the bags came open.

Sticking out of that bag was a restaurant size can of tomato puree. The razor sharp top was almost, but not completely removed from the can. Bits of puree were still attached to the top. The bits were red ... like me. That's when a thought occurred to me.

I could make it look like an accident. Work related accidents happen all the time. And then ... then I'd be free.

I was expecting it to hurt more. There was almost no pain at all when I ran my wrist across the can top.

As I started feeling light-headed, I also felt a pang of guilt. I knew, eventually, somebody would see what had happened. And they wouldn't understand I was escaping. And my boss might get in trouble. He was really nice. I didn't want him to get in trouble.

My wrist was slippery when I covered the cut with my hand. I wobbled a bit while walking around the dumpster. I weaved like I was drunk as I wandered towards the back door of the restaurant where I worked. I leaned against the doorframe when I reached it, but didn't have the strength to knock, so I banged on the door with my foot.

I'm not sure what happened next. I know I survived, because I'm here today writing this story. There's still times when I think of escaping, but I know of more options now than I knew then. I'm glad I have those options now. I've decided living in a world where people can see the real me, even with the body I'm stuck in, is better than escaping.

The Hypnosis Game Copyright 2022 by Heather Rose Brown

When I was around eight years old, a friend (who was sorta adopted as a cousin) stayed with my family for a few weeks over the summer. We played a lot of games while we she was there, but my favorite was the one where we'd pretend to hypnotize each other.

The game gave us an excuse to do weird or silly stuff. Eventually, a way out of being 'hypnotized' was added to the game. Someone could 'wake up' if they were told to do something like eat a bug, or anything else that felt like too much.

This is the story of what happened when it was my turn to be hypnotized.

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"You're gettin' sleepy," Kimmie said while dangling a necklace in front of my eyes. The necklace began swaying as she said, "You're feelin' very, veeeery, sleepy."

I watched the swinging pendant sparkle in the afternoon sunlight for a few seconds before letting my eyelids droop.

My friend smiled, then said, "That's right. Your eyes are gettin' heavy. Very, veeeery, heavy. Ya can haaaardly keep 'em open."

I smiled back, then wondered if that was something hypnotized people did. I decided not to worry about it, since it already happened, and let my eyes close the rest of the way.

One of my sisters giggled, and the other whispered, "It's working."

Someone made a shushing sound, then Kim said, "You oooonly hear my voice. You'll oooonly do what I say. Nod once if ya understand."

I was tempted to shake my head, but thought that might ruin the game, so I nodded instead.

"Veeeery gooood. In a moment, I'm gonna snap my fingers. When I do that, you'll open your eyes, and act normal, but you'll still be under my control. Do ya understand?"

When I nodded again, fingers snapped near one my ears, and my eyes popped open. I gasped when I realized my eyes had opened on their own.

"You okay?" my older sister asked.

"I think so," I said while wondering if I'd actually been hypnotized. A tingle of excitement rippled down my back when I thought about it.

"Whatcha gonna make 'im do?" my younger sister asked.

Kimmie scratched her chin and said, "Well, we gotta test to make sure he's really under, so it'd prolly hafta be somethin' he wouldn't normally do."

All three girls looked deep in thought for a while, then my older sister's eyes opened wide, and she whispered in Kim's ear.

An impish grin stretched across my friends face. Her bright blue eyes twinkled when she took my hand and said, "Follow me."

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After closing the door to the guest bedroom, Kimmie let go of my hand and said, "There's somethin' really special I need ya to do for me. Would ya be okay with that?"

"Sure," I said in the dull monotone I imagined hypnotized people used.

"Gooood," she said while patting my arm. "Just stay there while I get something."

"Okay," I said, then watched her root through a couple of dresser drawers.

A minute or so later, she brought a small handful of clothes and said, "I'd like ya to change into these shorts and shirt."

My heart started thumping. "Ya want me to ... to ... wear your clothes?"

The impish grin showed up again, but there was a gentleness to her voice when she said, "Like I said, this is somethin' very special I'd like ya to do for me."

Icy needles ran up my hands and arms when I realized my friend was serious. I almost decided to 'wake up', but the offer was way too tempting. Besides, I was hypnotized, so I had to do what I was told ... didn't I?

"Wait!" Kim shouted when I started pulling my shirt up. In a more normal voice, she said, "Let me go out first. Once you've changed, ya can come out and show me. Okay?"

I tried to answer, but nothing came out, so I just nodded.

My friend studied me for a long moment, then gave me a lopsided smile before setting the clothes on the bed.

Once Kimmie had left the room and closed the door, I spread the clothes out on the bed. There was a light blue t-shirt with skinny white stripes, and blue denim shorts. Except for the sleeves being a little short, the shirt looked like something a boy could wear, and the shorts didn't look much different from what I already had on.

After taking in a deep breath, I pulled off my shirt. Even though it was a warm day, I started shivering when I slipped on my friend's shirt. It was a little stretchier, and a lot softer, than what I'd been wearing. It didn't look especially girly on me, even though it was a girl's shirt.

I was having trouble taking off my shorts until the idea to take off my sneakers made it through my muddled thoughts. When I pulled on Kim's shorts, they felt ... different. It took some adjusting of different bits before her shorts felt right on me.

After getting my sneakers back on, I shuffled across the bedroom on numb legs. On the other side of the door, my friend and sisters were waiting for me. My hand was slippery with sweat when I reached for the doorknob.

I started worrying how they would react when they saw what I was wearing. But ... this was my one chance to dress how I'd always wanted. Plus, I had the excuse of being hypnotized, if anybody had anything to say about me wearing girl clothes.

Would everything really go okay? I decided there was only one way to find out, and opened the door.

After posting a couple of pretty dark memories, I thought it might be nice to share something lighter, so I rooted through what bits I could remember, until I came across a particularly special memory. Even now, I still smile, while thinking of this moment. :)

The Nurse's Office
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

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I sometimes wonder if the person who thought it was a good idea to pave a school playground with the same material used to pave roads didn't like children very much. Or maybe they just didn't like clumsy children ... like me.

I'm not sure if I'd been tripped, or if I'd stumbled over my own feet, but however it happened, I'd been sprawled out on my stomach in the middle of the playground, and bawling my eyes out. Eventually, someone helped me up, and led me into the school.

By the time we reached the nurse's office, I'd mostly cried myself out, and was just sniffling when I was introduced to the school nurse. I flinched when she reached for my hand, but she was careful to not touch my scraped palms, and I relaxed a bit.

I don't remember exactly what she said to me, but her voice was soft and comforting while she led me by the wrist to a bed. After sitting me down, she opened a foil package, pulled out a folded cloth, then gently wiped away the dirt and grit.

Once she was done cleaning my hands, she stood up, and started pulling a curtain around the bed. When I asked her why she was doing that, she said, "I'm going to need you to remove your blouse so I can take care of your elbow."

I was pretty confused at first. I looked down, just to make sure, but I still had on the same shirt I'd put on in the morning. The left arm had a hole in it from when I fell on my elbow, but it was the arm of a shirt, not a blouse.

Then it hit me. She knew. Somehow, without me saying anything, she saw I was really a girl. She was pulling the curtain around, so nobody who wandered into the office would see me topless.

I felt giddy, and grinned like a lunatic, when a weight I'd forgotten I was carrying was lifted from me. Someone finally saw what I'd been trying to explain to my parents. It had taken a complete stranger to see the truth.

If I could have, I would have never have left the nurse's office again.