As a parent, you're responsible for the lives of your children. You make a thousand judgment calls before sending them out to meet the world, and sometimes what you think is right ... isn't. By the time you see how wrong you've been, it's usually too late, and there's no going back.

Inspired by The Softening of Jessie by AshleyTS, this is a story about another mother, her son, the daughter he became ... and what happened when they both woke up.

She comes down in her bathrobe two hours late to a dark and empty kitchen. Usually Jenny lets herself in and wakes her, but today, she wakes up on her own. The change in routine worries her so much that she runs down the stairs, her heart beating wildly.

She rips open the envelope with trembling hands, and unfolds the several sheets inside. Instead of her daughter's pretty penmanship, the words inside are written with thin, hurried strokes, deep black lines clearly etched into the paper by strong emotion. She feels the dread grow stronger and drops into a kitchen chair, letting the envelope fall to the floor as she begins to read the tear-stained pages:

Last night, right before bed, I woke up.

I came home late from working at the diner. I kicked off my heels, took off my uniform, and slipped into a nice long bath. Then I dressed in a soft nightgown and settled in under my quilt on the sofa with a yogurt and an apple to see what was on TV.

The only thing on was a PBS science special, followed by a showing of this old black and white movie, something called The Manchurian Candidate. The special was all about brainwashing and mind control, and you know I don't usually watch that kind of stuff. I'm mostly into mindless sitcoms. But when the show started, something inside me jumped just a little, and I wound up glued to the screen the whole time. It all seemed very familiar somehow, and it made me feel weird inside.

When the movie came on, the feelings only got stronger. I watched as they made the poor brainwashed soldiers do anything they wanted, and the Chinese scientists were all so smug and superior and treated them like they were nothing. I started feeling worse and worse, all sad and angry about this stupid movie, and I couldn't figure out why.

Then suddenly, I woke up ... and I remembered.

Everything.

The pills. The CDs. The clothes, the make-up, the hormones ... the lies. All the things you and Aunt Carol did to turn me into THIS.

Before I could even think about it, I found myself with my head hanging over the toilet, retching up my dinner and trying to hold my hair out of the way. I felt wave after wave of anger, hatred, and disgust pushing the crap you fed into my brain away. By the time my stomach was empty, I was curled up in a ball on my bathroom floor, bawling my eyes out. It wasn't because I was six years older and a woman. It was because my own mom hated me enough to want to do this to her only son.

It wasn't like turning off a switch, the remembering. In a way, I was still Jenny. I remembered everything about her, and I knew everything she knew. But I also remembered Jimmy again, and all the things you did. Every step you took me through to turn me into a girl was right there, as if it was happened again. I spent the whole night reliving the experience with my eyes open this time, watching you and Carol laughing at me while you turned my mind inside out, and erased all the things that made me ... me.

It made me want to throw up all over again.

I was only sixteen when you did this. I remembered the conversations you had in front of me once the mind control had taken hold, when you'd ordered Jenny not to listen. You'd both decided I was a lost cause. Since when did you learn how to see the future? I was SIXTEEN! I still had growing up to do! You didn't KNOW anything! But because you THOUGHT I was going to turn out badly, you changed me into the "perfect" daughter, and killed me yourself, instead. Nice going, Mom.

You know, before last night ... before I woke up ... I loved you. You were my Mom, my best friend, my world, my light. You loved me so much, cared for me as no other ever did, kept me safe, and always knew just what to say to make every decision feel right."

Now I know how it is, and how it really was. I know you went into my head and changed me. Suddenly, everything you told me sounded so reasonable, so right. You kicked my mind wide open so I believed everything you said, and every time you opened your mouth, another piece of Jimmy died.

Last night, I remembered it all, and watched it happen again. I watched you slice away my past a sentence at a time, day after day, week after week.

"Wear this, drink this, take this, be this. Oh, you're so pretty in that dress, Jenny. You wear those heels so well, it's like you were born in them. Oh, of course boys don't wear dresses and heels, but you wear them because you're a girl, after all."

"How are you going to play soccer with your friends? Why, don't be silly! You're not going to play soccer anymore. Why? Because you don't like soccer, remember? You've NEVER liked soccer. Exercise, yes, but just to stay fit, just to stay trim, just to stay pretty so when you wear your bikini to the beach, all the boys want to be with you."

"And aren't sports kind of icky, anyway? All that running around outside, pushing yourself to make goals, as if goals are so important. Plus, you need to be aggressive to play sports, and you don't want to be like that, do you, Jenny? Girls aren't pushy, like boys. They're soft and submissive and helpful and kind. Besides, you don't really want to win anything, do you? You don't really need to excel. Competing is for boys, after all, and it only gets them into trouble. Be a cheerleader, instead. They never play. They just look pretty and cheer for the ones who do."

"Be a good girl, be a pretty girl, be the girl I want you to be. Be a pretty pink powder puff who knows and keeps her place -- a warm friendly girl who wouldn't dream of talking back or winning a soccer championship or running a company ... or running for President. Someone who would never dream of wanting more, because wanting and needing anything more than a pretty outfit or someone to love is too aggressive for a beautiful girl like you."

So I became what you made me -- a pretty puppet with no goals, no aspirations, no real desires at all. Did you realize what you were doing when you stripped that part of me away? I became a waitress in a beachfront diner -- not because that's what I wanted, but because the job was there, and you told me to take it, that it would be fun! I just couldn't understand why you wanted me to go to college. That surprised you, didn't it? I was a straight A student because you told me to study, but I had no interest in being better than I was -- being better than what YOU made me. Just pretty, shallow, and empty, that was the Jenny you wanted. And that was the Jenny you got.

Jenny didn't want to move out and grow up, but you needed to feel like she was moving forward, getting out on her own. For some reason, you wanted to feel like she was something more than a puppet. So you found her a tiny studio apartment near the beach -- a box your life-sized Barbie could put herself away in every night, when she was finished pretending to have the life you pushed her into in the first place.

Remember when you thought it would be a good idea for me to start dating in high school? After the surgery at the clinic to fix the "little problem" between my legs? You didn't think the programming would matter after that, did you? Because you thought I was "done," somehow. You thought what you did was finished.

Until I started sleeping with any boy bright enough to ask for it.

They would cuddle me close and whisper suggestions, and I would just happily go along with anything they said, because everything sounded great to Jenny. Thanks to you, there's a picture of me in the dictionary right next to the phrase "can't say no." For a while, there I was, Jenny the easy happy bimbo slut, open to any lewd fantasy a man could have. Years after you finished making me what you wanted, I was still having my reality rewritten by anyone with a voice.

But when you realized what was happening, you fixed Jenny the party girl, didn't you? You sat me down and lovingly convinced me that casual sex was terribly, horribly wrong -- unless, of course, you happen to find just the right guy. Then you can be the biggest slut alive, as long as he makes you his wife, so it's respectable.

And Jenny listened, of course. All you ever needed to do was deliver a few well-chosen words, and she became exactly what you wanted. It was never about what Jenny wanted, because Jenny never really wanted ANYTHING. She was like the world's biggest pile of pleasantly-shaped modeling clay. She cared about what you cared about. She wanted whatever you wanted her to want. Because that's how puppets work.

Of course, by that point I already had a reputation as the high school slut, so forget about having any real friends, male or female. Not that I could keep them anyway. Since Jenny had no real interests, she couldn't hold a conversation to save her life unless it revolved around fashion or boys. I was so shallow, a goldfish would've drowned if it tried to swim in my personality. On the other hand, with no social life to speak of, I studied hard and learned quite a bit -- mostly because you told me I should.

I guess I have you to thank for being able to write so well about the "thing" I've become. The "thing" you made me.

Thanks, Mom. You're the best.

Before I woke up, Jenny loved you. But now, I don't know if Jenny ever really loved you, or if it was just some suggestion you put in my head. After all, the daughter you turned your son into would HAVE to love you, after all you did for her. Just a few words in her ear, and you'd be best friends forever.

Now I'm not even sure I ever LIKED you. I don't even know if Jenny was capable of real emotions. If I weren't numb right now, I'd probably hate you for what you've done. I'm pretty sure I do. I know Jimmy loved and trusted you once. But thanks to the past six years, I don't KNOW anything now. I can't FEEL anything. Except betrayal. I feel that right enough. And I feel Jimmy's pain -- the pain you never let him feel when you killed him slowly six years ago.

He feels it all. I feel it all.

Because I came back to life, last night.

So what am I going to do? What can I do? It's over now. I'm not anyone's puppet. I cut my strings last night. But unlike Pinocchio, I'm not a real boy, either. I'm a thing -- half ghost and half woman, with no idea who she really is ... or who she's truly supposed to be.

Or even if she's supposed to be.

Can Jimmy live like this? Can I? I don't know.

I sat on the beach the morning after I woke up, looking out on the ocean, and I could almost hear the mermaids calling me to join them. I'm one of them, sort of, after all -- a halfling, a half-thing, trapped in this body ... in this half-life ... with no way back and no way out.

I don't know how to be a mermaid, Mom. I'm not even sure I want to learn. So here's what I'm going to do.

I'm going to get dressed in my prettiest swimsuit and jump into the waves. I'm going to swim out to sea until I can't swim anymore. Then I'm going to stop, and float, and listen. And see if they sing to me.

I'd sign this letter, but I can't. Because I don't know who I am anymore, and I'm not sure I ever will.

And if that doesn't bother you at all, then to hell with you. You're even less human than I am.

Goodbye.

She sits there at the kitchen table, the letter in her hand, until the day turns to night, and she can't see the paper anymore.

Three days later, she comes home from walking on the beach, looking for her daughter's body, and sees the light blinking on her answering machine. Torn between hope and despair, she reaches out a trembling hand for the Play button, afraid of what she thinks the message might be ... and not sure she wants to hear.

Beep.

"I'm home. And I'm alive." Her baby's voice is tired and sad and full of bitterness.

"It turned out that I heard the mermaids singing after all, and I sang along. Instead of drowning, I swam back to shore." She takes a deep breath.

"You better hope my college fund is still in one piece, because you're going to be hearing from a lawyer. I want every cent in a cashier's check, plus half of whatever you have in the bank. I think a self-imposed fine is the best you can hope for, after betraying and murdering a boy you were supposed to protect."

"If you don't pay, I'll go to the police with my Jimmy birth certificate and my Jenny birth certificate, and the old photo albums and the new photo albums I took from the house when I got back from the sea. I'll tell them everything, and then we'll see what they can charge you with. If nothing else, they can get you for falsifying records. After all, Jenny's paperwork is as fake as I am. But I'll be pushing for child abuse, too. And in the end, I'll take what I can get."

"You made me a woman. I can't change that. But if I'm going to have to be a woman, I'm going to be a strong one. No more sweet submissive dress-up doll. Aggressive? Hell, yeah! I won't be a bitch or a bully, but I won't shy away from a fight. I won't let anyone stop me from being who I want to be -- just as soon as I figure out what the hell that is."

"I'm going to school to figure out where I go from here. Maybe I'll be a psychologist. Maybe I'll go into law enforcement. Maybe I'll be a lawyer. I want to be someone who uses who she is and what she knows to make a difference -- to save people like me from people like you, who sacrifice the rights of others to do what they think is right. I don't know exactly how I'm going to live this life you forced onto me, but it's my life, and I'm going to make it count for something."

"I'm not Jimmy anymore, but I'm not Jenny either. So I'm changing my name to Gem. It's partly because of the Jim I almost was, but mostly because ... well, now that the light has hit me, I'm gonna shine. Yeah, it's corny, I know, but what the hell. I guess I'm just that kind of girl...now."

"So in a way, you won. You 'saved' me, and I'm going to be a 'good girl' and do something important with my life. Boo-yah for you, mommy dearest. But you killed Jimmy to do it, and took the rest of HIS life away, and I won't forget. Or forgive. He'll never learn how to be a "good" man. No children for him. No wife, no family. No being a husband and a father. Not even a memory for anyone except me."

"I don't know how I am going to feel about men, and dating, and sex, because I'm still trying to figure out how to feel at all. Maybe I'll be a lesbian, or spend the rest of this life alone with a dozen cats. But I'll deal with all that when I know myself better. I've got time, now that I'm awake. And alive, again."

"As for you? Don't call me. Don't contact me at all. I don't want to hear you. I don't want to see you. I don't want to know you. If you have something to say, talk to my lawyer. If I feel like replying, her voice is the only one you'll ever hear. Because I'm done with you."

"You killed me dead, and let the corpse walk around for six years because she was pretty and nice and never made a fuss. You don't even deserve this phone call, but I wanted to deliver a message, and this is it."

"Stay the hell away from me. You killed me once because I trusted you, and I'm not about to make that same mistake again. The only reason I'm alive now is because I turned on the TV that night and saw pieces of my first death rerun on PBS. I came back to life inside a girl, and we both swam out into the ocean to die together."

"Instead, we both heard the mermaids sing, and it turned out to be a song about life. It's full of pain and betrayal and hatred and rage, but also the chance to have a future, which is the one thing death can never bring. The mermaid's song never ends, because in a way, the song IS life, and being alive means hope, and dreams, and maybe love, if I can grow enough to take that chance and learn to trust again."

"But the chance to be something more is enough to keep me living. I don't want to die anymore. I died once, and that's enough."

"That's enough. I'm done. And like I said, I'm done with you." Long silence. "So fuck you. And goodbye ... Mom."

The machine beeps once and shuts itself down. She feels the tears start, but they are tears of joy.

She won't have to wait long.

Thanks to Frank and Kaho for pre-reading and letting me know their thoughts. I've edited it a bit since then, so any mistakes are purely mine -- Randalynn