A good while back I posted a story while deep in depression, I said at the time that it may or maynot be continued. Whilst going through my fiction folders tonight I came across the original and added some more to the story. Again I don't know if its complete, in a way it is linked to me own progression through depression caused by some of the same problems. That said this is fiction.

A young boy tries to commit suicide - I have for ease of reading included part 1 here too.

Story:

Part 1 - Before

Sitting here, I look dispiritedly at the small vial of pills on the table in front of me, I found them at the back of a drawer, my parents thoughtfully locking all the other drugs away, after all I've done it once maybe I'll do it again.

They think I'm over the worst, but how can I be every day is a nightmare, how can I bear to go to school, instead I spend the day in the local library, trying hard to ignore the pain and discomfort I feel.

I don't want to die, but should I live like this? Two months ago I was 16 years old, I got all those corny '16 and never been kissed' cards. Gran gave me money towards my holidays this summer. She's 85 years old in November, our family is all fairly long lived, can I cope living like this for another 70 years, knowing that nothing will change?

My eyes stray back to the small dark brown glass vial on the table, what will death be like, absolution? Nothing? Re-incarnation? Will I be sent straight to hell as mum's priest told me after I tried last time, "Suicide is a sin, a terrible sin. Heaven has no place for sinners."

I stand up and walk to the window, I can see mum she's standing in front of dad his arms around her shoulders his chin resting on her head. I love them both so much, I don't think dad is coping well, or not as well as mum. He was really shocked last time; he couldn't understand why I had done it. I couldn't explain, I just didn't have the words, still don't.

The last three months have been odd; they both tiptoe round me, seeming to hope that nothing they say will upset me further. Mandy is staying with my aunt, she really couldn't cope. I miss her.

I turn and look around the room, so many memories, the place seems to ooze them out like wet rot from the woodwork, I open the wardrobe and gaze at the neatly hung clothes, I reach out to touch them but at the last moment I stop and shut the door again. My thoughts go back to that weekend nearly four months ago.

I was as usual the first home, Mandy is three years older than me and goes to college, and we get on fine, probably better than most siblings. As I unlock the door I remember mum telling me that she would be late tonight, a staff meeting at school. I quickly complete my chores, first games kit into the wash, I hate games, and I have done ever since primary school. Running around kicking pigskin seems rather pointless.

While my games kit is washing I empty and fill the dishwasher. I take my wet games kit and my snack upstairs; I hang the kit on the radiator to dry and eat my sandwich.

I go into the bedroom, and look round. The room is fairly large, the bed is a double, my parents old one, and very comfy, it is covered with a pale bedspread with pale blue and pink flowers all over it. The pillows are invisible under a deluge of soft toys, near the window is a dressing table covered in cosmetics, jewelry and other knick knacks. Against the old chimney breast stands the chest 'o drawers and opposite the window the wardrobe. The final item of furniture is a small writing desk inherited from my great grandmother, it's currently covered in bits of material, buttons, cotton and pins.

I gingerly approached the wardrobe and opened it, a wave of scented air rose from the packed clothing inside, I inhaled deeply and then began rummaging looking for something nice to wear.

An hour later as a lay on the bed reading a magazine I hear my sister and mum return.

Later that night still smarting from the shouting and feeling lower than I had ever done in my life I lay on my own bed, my sisters clothes returned against her wishes to her wardrobe and chest 'o drawers. Mum knocks and enters.

"I hope you're ashamed of your self young man, I am thoroughly shocked. After what your sister had done to her today, you should hope that she speaks to you again. You are not to go into her room again, for any reason what so ever. Further more you are grounded for a month, and instead of coming home you can come and help me tidy up at school."

"Yes mum." What else can I say; I had as they say been caught with my knickers down.

I stand for a moment looking at the door, tears streaming down my cheeks, I swing the door open again and stare into the mirror. My hair is lank and greasy my face still untroubled by spots looks pale and wan. My eyes red and bloodshot from prolonged crying, my gaze moves down taking in the small, soft body and slim arms, my once long and well kept nails now nibbled to the quick. In the mirror I can see the little vial, it seems to be staring at me, urging me to just do it, just take them, just end it.

Part 2 - After

"Max it's time... Max... Brian come quick he's done it again.

"Oh come on love, wake up..."

"Ugh, um wha..." I woke to feel mum leaning over me and shaking me, it hadn't worked I was still here.

"He hasn't, please god, Mary is he okay?"

"I... I think so, he's awake, there's a bottle of pills by his bed, quick get the ambulance."

"These?" my father laughed, "these are Amanda's cough sweets, from when she was oh five or six, the only thing they'll give him is stomach ache, they must be fifteen years out of date."

"Oh thank god, you stupid boy, what did we tell you last time, I have a good mind to put you over my knee..."

"Mary, Mary calm down, we need to talk about this properly, I think it's time we saw I counselor don't you."

"I will not have my life dragged out in front of a complete stranger thank you very much. Max isn't sick, he's... He's..."

"He's got a problem that we won't find out about unless we seek proper advice, now go down stairs and put the kettle on, I'll give him the once over and make sure he is alive."

"Well..."

"Go on, I'll be alright."

"Okay Max I can see you're awake, are you in any pain?" I thought about it apart from the skin on my shoulders was rather tender from where mum had grabbed me.

"No... Dad, I'm sorry, I just..."

"Look son, I know you're having problems, I won't pretend to understand, I don't, but what I said to your mum is true, you do have a problem and we do need to get it sorted out. Now get up, have a shower and come downstairs."

"Yes dad."

"Max, I. We love you, we don't want to lose you. We will work through this whatever it takes okay?"

"Yes dad."

"Good boy."

I couldn't believe it after all the heart ache and soul searching last night I had finally gone for, the pills had slipped down quite easily, the first lot hadn't. As I relaxed under my covers I prayed that this would be it life over, gone, finito. And now, now I was back again, I showered and dressed, wishing for the umpteenth time that I could wear the small wardrobe that I had bought myself over the last five years, since I realized that I was just an odd looking girl. Back then I hadn't realized the implications, I just knew that I was a girl like Mandy.

The breakfast table was tense, mum had been crying, judging by the wet patch on dads shoulder, onto him. She avoided my eyes and ate her muesli in silence. Dad was also quiet seemingly quite happy that there were no arguments now. I didn't eat much, maybe the pills had affected me, or maybe I was just my normal self, I never ate much. The radio as normal was tuned into Radio 4, as the pips went for the eight o'clock news, mum kissed my father on the top of his head, and after hesitating kissed me.

Mum works at a primary school, it's only a five minute walk away, just the other side of the church really. She normally walks to work and today was no exception.

"Right, you and me are going out, I rang Dr. Ellis, she says she will see us this morning, I want you to make your self look presentable, we need to set off in an hour and a half okay?" It was now or never.

"Dad. Can I wear..."

"No you may not, I think your sister made it clear, she doesn't want you wearing her clothes."

"I have some of my own, they're in the box-room (box room is like an attic: Ed.) They're mine..."

"Really? No I don't think so." Tears started to form again.

"Oh for pities sake, alright you will only be embarrassing yourself."

An hour and a bit later we set out, my father in his normal work day wear; shirt, smart trousers shiny black shoes and in deference to the wet weather a mackintosh. I was wearing perhaps my favorite outfit; a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, trainers and a fleecy body warmer. And for me a boys kagoul coats are a little outside my price range.

Dad didn't comment on my apparent change of heart, not knowing that apart from my coat everything was intended for a girl, from the pretty pink panties to the trainers I had bought with my Christmas money and that were already almost too small.

Dr Ellis is my psychologist, after my first attempt the hospital referred me to her. I was supposed to see her every week, but with mum sitting next to me I soon stopped going, after all what was the point. Nothing she said made any difference to my life.

Today things were different, with an admonishment to behave dad left me in the waiting room while he went in with the doctor, I had time to read two and a half magazines before he returned. I knew by looking at his eyes that he'd been crying. But without a word he gently propelled me toward the doctor's door, taking a seat and picking up a magazine on gardening.

"Hello Max, I'm glad to see you again."

"Hello doctor Ellis." Doctor Ellis looks to me to be in her late twenties, long dark brown hair which she wears loose, a smart skirt suit and high heel boots.

Her office is unchanged from my last visit, her desk in front of the window looking out over the park. Her comfortable swivel chair, the chairs for clients covered in a deep red fabric, soft enough to be comfortable yet not so soft to encourage lethargy and a couch that I suspected was for the hypnosis that I was sure happened here.

Doctor Ellis is reading notes I assume about me, then after a moment looks at me over her reading glasses and smiles, "So Max your mother isn't with us, your father is out of the room why don't you tell me how you feel." Now I have the opportunity I'm no longer sure, the decisions that I have made regarding my own life and future seem trivial and unwise, after some moments of indecision.

"I'm a girl," then realizing that that may not be the way to start, "I mean I want to be a girl, I need to be a girl." I start to cry.

Doctor Ellis pauses a moment then jots some more notes down onto the pad perched on her crossed legs. "Max I know this is hard for you, can you tell me when you first realized that you were a girl or when you decided that you wanted to be one?" When had it started? That was a good question, I mulled it over.

"I don't remember it suddenly happening, when I was little the was just me and Mandy, Mandy was a girl and I played with her, no-one told me that I wasn't a girl too. Then later at school, I wasn't into the boys things football and stuff. I knew I wasn't a girl by then but I wasn't a boy either."

"So you feel that you've always been a girl?"

"Yes I suppose, its just that, I mean I know I'm really a boy but," I stumbled to a halt, there was no way of explaining a process that had taken years to work out in my own head. "I think of myself as a girl, I am not a boy inside only on the outside, and I can cover that up most of the time."

"When did you start cross dressing?"

"When I was eleven we moved house mum threw a whole load of Mandy's old clothes out, I found them and kept a lot of them. So about four years."

"If this were a story how would it end?"

"Well I'd be a girl and mum and dad would like me, and Mandy would come back and live with us. But its not, I can't be a girl. Mum thinks I'm a pervert, Mandy hates me, I just don't know how to carry on." The tears were back, the deep well of loathing was gradually swallowing me again.

It took me sometime to regain some composure and by that time our session it seemed was over, I was once again left in the waiting room while dad spoke to doctor Ellis.

When we got back home dad was deep in thought, hardly seeming to even notice that I was with him, we went via the chemist on the high street to pick up my prescription, I don't know what I was prescribed because dad wouldn't even let me see the packet.

What ever it is, is strong I no longer feel ill, in fact for the first time in ages I think I could have some real sleep.

Notes: