John was filled with nothing but regrets and his future was hopeless, there was nothing left to do but prepare the bath and reminisce. A Splintered Life Chapter 9 A Bath Before Dying by poetheather Copyright © 2010 by poetheather

John placed the candles around the bathroom. He wanted to make sure they were in good positions. He wanted the room to be filled with the warm light of the candles. He had anointed them with olive oil and had said prayers over them.

He had also gotten a stick of incense out for the occasion. It was a bit large, but he liked the rich rose smell that it gave off when lit. The stick should burn for about forty minutes or so. The smell would linger in the small space of the bathroom even longer.

His regrets rose in his thoughts as he got everything ready. They had been doing that a lot recently and it was getting harder to concentrate on anything.

When he was five he remembered being jealous because this girl had on a pretty dress and he didn’t. He told her that he liked her dress and she had laughed at him. He had felt so embarrassed and shamed that day.

And that hadn’t been the last. Apparently, the little girl had shared his comments and the girls tormented him with it. They brought dresses for him to try on to school and that didn’t help with his making friends with the boys.

He remembered when the girls forced him into a dress at recess. He had thought he had looked so pretty. The girls were all smiling at him. When recess was over the trouble began. The teacher was upset. The girls claimed he had done it on his own and the boys started calling him a fag and a sissy. The girls had hidden his boy’s clothes so he couldn’t change. His mom had picked him up from school. He had burned from the shame.

The next day he had been beaten up for the first time.

The girls had cheered on the beating. The ring of boys and girls had shielded the fight from the teachers. John had limped home, sore and with the painful wedgie still impacted into him. He began to withdraw into himself from there. To be himself was to hurt. The first of the masks were raised.

He got out the knife that he had brought up for this. The straight edged blade was sharp. He had sharpened it to make sure it would cut true. He set it down reverently on the edge of the tub.

He had tried to talk to his Sunday School teacher. Jesus loved the little children. God made all people. Surely God could help him. He had told her what he had felt and how God could help him. She had looked surprised and worried. “These thoughts are from Satan Johnny. The Devil is trying to confuse you. God will protect you if you fight against the Devil’s urges. He made you a boy for a reason Johnny. God doesn’t make mistakes.”

Another mask raised.

John stepped into the water. He flinched a little. The heat almost scalded him. His skin grew tight and red. He stepped his other foot in.

He had buried that urge, that girl’s urge that filled him. He was a boy. God didn’t make mistakes. He would be a boy, like God wanted. However, he wasn’t sure what that meant.

He watched and followed David even more than before. His brother was strong, could fight, and seemed to be everything a boy was meant to be. He copied his big brother. Did everything he could to be like him. He liked it when David ruffled his hair and called him Squirt. His brother would make him a man.

Adventure films also taught him what he needed to know. I mean why be a girl? Girls were weak. Girls needed to be saved. They screamed a lot. However, they were good for kissing. Boys were the ones who did everything important. He could be a hero, but only if he was a boy.

Another mask raised.

John lowered himself into the water. He had to stop when the water reached his genitals. The pain was intense. John forced himself into the water. He lay back and tried to relax, keeping both wrists under the water. His heart pounded.

He had watched girls a lot. That wasn’t out of the ordinary. All boys were watching girls. He just had conflicting emotions. John could never figure out why he was jealous when he saw a pretty girl, or a nice outfit, or especially when they started to develop. It confused him and he felt himself beginning to come apart. He asserted his identity and buried the feelings as best as they could.

Another mask.

John often felt like two different people. When around the guys he was fine. He was a guy among guys. He almost felt normal. Around girls, things got confusing. He had really forgotten what his emotions were like so he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore. He got shy and tongue tied. He teased them and wished they would kiss him. He had to be man enough for them.

Another.

His mother’s satiny panties slid up his peach fuzzed legs and pulled tight against his crotch. The material was wonderful. He felt himself grow hard within her underwear. He looked at himself in the mirror and decided to see how he would look in her bra as well.

Another.

She had caught him after he had been doing the crossdressing for a while. He had two pairs socks in the bra for tits and hose on, to make her shoes fit better, especially the heels. The dress he had on his mother rarely wore. Today was the first time he had braved her make up. He did not know why dressing this way made him feel better, but it did. He also got excited, and he had learned how to deal with that.

She had yelled at him. Telling him that wasn’t what boys did. She had used a wet wipe to scrub the make up off John. She was angry and a little disgusted.

Another.

He found he could not help himself. Even when he had told himself over and over that wearing his mother’s clothes was wrong. He would wear her dirty clothes. He was safer in the basement than in her room. And when he exploded after masturbation he could easily clean up.

Another.

John picked up the knife and stared at it. The knife looked wet in the flickering light of the candles. Steam misted parts of the blade. He breathed in deep, settling his soul. This bright blade would end his pain and silence his regrets forever. He exhaled slowly. He was almost ready.

The dreams he had had changed into fantasies where his family had died and his only salvation was to hide out as a girl. To be a girl as much as possible or he would be found and killed. The dreams were comforting and disturbing.

Another.

Tammy had thought it was cute when she had dressed up John. John never minded and it always led to great sex. Thrusting into her, with the bra tight against his chest, the skirt hiked up to his hip was an amazing sensation that made his head spin. He was sure he loved her.

Another.

Tammy had told others of the dressing and he had to deal with more grief from girls. But thankfully it was almost summer. They would forget with time.

He was still able to dress on weekends when he went to Rocky Horror at the movie theatre. He had gotten the part of Frank N Furter and he loved prancing in the heels and underwear. He felt closer to himself and he didn’t know why.

Another.

The knife easily split his flesh open and the blood began to be stained a deep red. He did his other wrist and set the blade down on the edge of the tub. The cuts had stung but the hot water had sort of made the action bearable. He blinked away the tears of pain and rested back in the tub, his wrists pulsing blood.

Estelle had helped him dress as a medieval maiden for Halloween once. That had been fun. Few people could tell it was him and that had made him happy. He had never told Estelle why he had enjoyed himself so much. He felt real and he felt fake as John.

Another.

John had begun to have difficulty. He was falling apart. He didn’t feel real any more. He wanted to be a girl, but he was a boy. That was wrong. God had said so. But the Goddess didn’t mind. Did she? Estelle had kissed him when he was in the dress. He liked wearing her clothes. He had stolen some of her panties. They were nice. Girls weren’t hairy. They didn’t have penises. Then how could he be a girl? He was, wasn’t he. But he had a penis. What was he?

Another.

John found that he was getting tired and thirsty. His eyes were getting heavy. The water was warm and he was relaxing.

The slap had stung when Gwen had slapped him. She had come home from class early and found him in her clothes. She had screamed at him as he had struggled to put his own clothes on. Freak! A fucking Freak! That was what he was. Nothing but a freak! A betrayer of trusts and a liar. Never let me see you again!

Another.

He had curled up and sobbed as his life spun out of control. What was he? Why was this happening to him? What had he become? Was he a man? Was he a woman? What the hell was he? Why did this have to happen to him? Why couldn’t he be normal, like everyone else? He didn’t want to be a freak. He just wanted to be himself, whatever the hell that was. Why did he feel dressed up as a woman? Why did he feel false dressed in his own clothes?

Another.

John drifted a bit more. The pain was fading. He didn’t care any more. His pain was going away. He wouldn’t have to worry about that pain or the not knowing. He was bleeding away into peace. Girl? guy? It didn’t matter. Soon he would be dead.

.

…

......

........

...........

............... maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all.