Due to reader demand, I am posting two shorter chapters as one post. I'll do this going forward when chapters are short and the chapters seem to fit together.

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Violence, Attempted Suicide

CHAPTER 14 -- West Hell

I don't know if it was because of my interview or just because Christmas was over and the people picking on me didn't have to worry about getting on Santa's "naughty" list, but things got a lot worse when I went back to school.

The biggest problem was that the harrassment started to get physical. Sometimes someone would sneak up behind me and try to pull my pants down. They usually managed to expose some of my underwear. Or they'd try to grab the back of my bra and let the band snap back against me. Sometimes two guys would corner me and feel up my breasts. They'd stop if a teacher came by, but if I told the teacher what happened, they'd say I was lying. I don't think the teachers believed them, but they didn't do anything, either. One time, when I was in class and the teacher stepped out, someone tossed a dirty condom on my desk.

The verbal abuse got worse, too. For one thing, the football guys started calling me "it" instead of "he" or even "she." Stuff like, "look what it's wearing today. Doesn't it look stupid." Or, "they say it's a girl, but it's so ugly, I wouldn't fuck it if you paid me." Or if I had books in my hands, they'd knock them down and say things like, "look, it's such a wimp it can't even hold a few books." The guys who always sucked up to the jocks started doing it, too, and then some of the girls from the popular girls' clique. I talked to the teachers, I talked to the administrators, I talked to the school psychologist, but nobody took it seriously.

I told my parents that the harrassment was getting worse, but just hearing that made them so upset that I didn't give any details. When they asked Biff, he just got a sick look on his face and said, "it's bad. Really bad."

The only thing that kept me going was visiting with Teresa. Sometimes she'd have some friends over, but I think she picked who it was, because they were all really nice and sympathetic to me. They said that West High had a reputation for people being pretty mean. Her parents were really nice to me, too. When I was at Teresa's, I felt like it was okay to be myself, whatever that was. I'd hoped I could hang out with her more during winter break, but it seems that for the past six months her family had been planning a vacation to Hawaii for that week, so she wouldn't be around.

One day, about a week before winter break, Tom Prescott and a couple of his buddies cornered me again and dragged me into an empty classroom. I started screaming, and one of them covered my mouth. Tom said, "let's see what it looks like under those stupid clothes," and one of his friends pulled up my shirt so the bra was showing. "Hey, it's got tits," he said, but not too loud, and put his hand on my breast and started squeezing. It hurt some, but it mostly felt gross and made me feel dirty. "It feels like a girl. Let's see if it has a cunt like a girl," he said and started pulling down my pants. He had to unbuckle the belt. They got me onto a desk and pulled my pants down past my shoes. He pulled down my underwear and put his fingers all over my crotch and then stuck one of them inside me. Somehow, I got a cramp there, so he had to push hard and it hurt. I bit the hand that was over my mouth. The guy yelled and then hit me on the head real hard, so my head rang like a bell and I was dazed. When I could see again, Tom's pants were around his knees.

Right then, one of Tom's flunkies stuck his head in the door and yelled, "teacher!" The boys started running out of the classroom. Tom was getting his pants back up when a teacher came in. I guess someone had heard my screams and called a teacher. Tom was still arranging his pants, and two of his buddies were still in the room with him.

"What's going on here?" asked the teacher. I'd seen this teacher, but I didn't know his name.

"Tom and the other guys dragged me in here and pulled my clothes off," I said. I was struggling to get my pants back up over my shoes, and my shirt was still pulled up. "They also hit me." I had a headache from the blow and I could feel a tender spot.

"He's lying, like he always does," Tom said. "He asked us to come in so he could show us his you-know-what."

I don't think the teacher believed him, so he waited for me to get dressed and then hauled all four of us to the principal's office. We all told our stories, and of course the principal believed Tom and his friends. Wouldn't want to mistreat their star athlete. The principal gave me a one-week suspension for being undressed, causing a disturbance, and for lying. They called my mother to pick me up, and got a teacher to walk me back to my locker to pick up my stuff.

My mom was completely silent when she picked me up. The principal had told her his story when he called my mom, but he told her again when she arrived, anyway. We both walked silently to the car and I got in the back. Only when we were on the road did I say anything.

"Mom, the truth is a couple of the jocks dragged me into a classroom and pulled my clothes down. I think they were going to--" I couldn't say it. "Please, Mom, believe me."

"I believe you, son. Oh, how I believe you!" Her voice was really tight. A block later, she pulled over, stopped the car, and turned to face the street.

"Mom--" I said. Then I noticed her shoulders were shaking. She was crying, but without making a sound. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she put a hand on my hand. We sat there, parked, for I don't know how long. At last she stopped shaking and faced the front.

"Yes, I believe you." Her voice sounded all broken up. Then she drove me home.

I was up in my room after dinner, and my parents were in their bedroom. I went down to get a snack, and I heard my mother's voice through the door. I stopped. I could clearly hear my mother say, in that same broken-up voice, "Claude, I don't know what to do. What are we going to do?" Dad said something I couldn't make out. Biff came down and when he saw me standing there, he stopped and started listening, too.

"Claude, I can't stand watching him suffer any more." She was crying. "He's out of it for a week. Two weeks with winter break, but after that, what?" Again, Dad said something we couldn't understand.

We listened some more, but she got quieter, so we couldn't hear what she was saying.

I talked to Teresa that night and told her the story. She was horrified, and called her parents over to talk to me. I told it to them, and they sounded horrified, too. I told them what I'd overheard my mother say.

"We'll figure something out," my uncle said.

"Should we postpone our trip?" asked my aunt.

"No, don't, you all have been looking forward to it for so long. I'll be okay. After all, I'm out of West Hell until after you get back, anyway."

"Just hold on," my uncle said. "You're not going back to that place if I can do anything about it."

I spent the week in my room. I tried dressing in my "girl clothes," then in my "boy clothes." It didn't feel any different. Actually, it didn't feel like anything. To add to my troubles, I got my second period. Another thing to get used to. I texted Teresa and sometimes talked to her on the phone, but she was busy with schoolwork and with getting ready for the trip. She told me I could text her while she was away. She would check from time to time. "Just sit tight and don't do anything stupid." On Saturday, my mom and dad drove me to the airport to see them off.

CHAPTER 15 -- Ending it All

After Teresa and her family left, I got really down. I kept thinking of the future, and every possibility looked miserable. I could live as a girl, but any school would find out I was born as a boy. My driver's license, whenever I got one, would say Martin, sex male. I could try to live as a boy, but I'd already learned that wouldn't work. And even though Uncle Boris had sort of promised that I wouldn't have to, I was pretty sure that, sooner or later, I'd have to go back to West High, or else some place just as bad.

The only comfort I had was my CDs. I started to listen to real emo groups, ones about how awful life is and how people suck, and it made me feel better while I was listening. But the end of winter break kept getting closer.

Biff and Pete were out a lot, so I had time to wander around the house. I discovered my mom had a bottle of sleeping pills. I kept thinking about taking the whole bottle. I'd heard that alcohol makes them even more deadly, and I knew where my parents kept their vodka. Vodka and sleeping pills, the phrase kept running through my head.

Friday morning, I woke up and knew, if I was going to do it, today was the day. My parents would be around on the weekend, I didn't think I could sneak the pills or the vodka with them around. Plus, they might find me before I was dead. I wrote a letter to Teresa, saying I was very sorry, and that I appreciated all she had done for me. She and her parents had done the best they could, but it was better this way. I waited for my brothers to go out. It was about 10:00. I walked out to the mailbox and stood for a long time with the letter in my hand. If I dropped it in, there was no going back.

I pulled open the door. It felt like it was happening to someone else. I put the letter in, and let go. I walked back home. I went in and got the pills, then went to the kitchen and filled a glass with vodka. I took them up to my room. I took the pills one by one, each with a mouthful of vodka. The vodka tasted terrible, and my stomach started to feel upset, so after half a glass, I switched to water. I went to lie down, then I decided to write a will.

"Please let Teresa take whatever CDs she wants. She is also welcome to take my bunny." I had a stuffed bunny rabbit that I'd had since I was a little kid. I slept with it almost every night, but I'd hide it in a drawer so my mom couldn't find it. He was going to be with me when I went to sleep for the last time, but after that, he'd need a good home.

I wrote a note to my mom and dad. "I know you've done your best, I appreciate it. But this is better. I won't hurt any more. Goodbye." I went to lie down again. Then I thought: I should send a goodbye to Teresa. So I texted, "Thanks for everything. I love you. Goodbye" I don't know why I said "I love you." Then I turned off the ringer. I had my skirt on, but I was getting cold, so I put the tights on. I looked in a mirror. I looked like a girl. Maybe even a pretty girl, I thought. I'll die a girl. It didn't seem so bad.

I turned on my CD player, put my headphones on, and lay down. "Now I lay me down to sleep," I thought. It was the last thought I remember having.