Gotta hurry up. If I don't, I'm not sure what's going to happen if I am found out. Dad will be home in like a few or so minutes and I'm still in a dress.

Now normally, for some people, wearing a dress is fine. But in my case, I was born a boy. According to my dad, dresses are for girls and boys should never wear girls clothes. I don't live with my mom. She had left dad a while back and didn't bother bringing me with her.

I was only a block away from home and panicking the whole time. I knew I should have brought an extra pair of clothes to school with me, but I didn't know that dad was going to heading home early from work.

How do I know he's coming home early? A friend of mine called me up and told me, he saw him fueling up at the station or something like that. That's where I started running home.

I can hear my dad's car a few blocks away. Panic really struck me now. I see the house and run to the back yard. Dad was just pulling into the driveway. I struggle to unlocked the back door but finally get it open and ran in. I could hear the front door open. The stairs to upstairs were in between me and the front door. I was going to get caught.

Just then, dad shut the door and went back to the car to get something. I took a big sigh of relief and ran to the stairs, straight to my room. I changed into some new clothes and hid my dress in the back of my closet. I was safe, for now.

I hear dad come into the house and go to the kitchen.

“Noah, get your butt down here!” I hear him holler. I wish he didn't call me Noah. To me, I believe I was born in the wrong body and should have been born a girl. To me, my name is Kiara.

“Coming!” I yell out my door. By his tone, I must have been in trouble. What did I do? I quickly check myself in the mirror to see how I look and head downstairs.

Dad was sitting at the table drinking a beer. This worries me. When he drinks, he gets abusive. I wish mom was still living here. She wouldn't let him drink. I'm guessing the beer is what he went back to the car to get. I always wonder why he drinks in the first place. I thought we were a Christian family? Doesn't God say not to drink, or something like that? I don't read the bible, so I have no clue. I guess, it's fine to drink, as long as you don't get drunk. Jesus did make wine from water.

“What is it dad?” I ask, slowly walking towards him.

“You left the back door open again!” He yelled “We are not heating the outside!”

“Sorry dad.” I looked towards the floor.

“Sorry isn't going to cut it, I've told you a hundred times to keep that door closed!” He had bloodyshot eyes. “Come over here!” He snarled.”

“No dad!” I screamed “No!”

“You get over here now, or it's the hanger!” he grabbed me and pulled me over his legged pulled down my pants and underwear and spanked me as hard as he could. I was bawling my head off. Screaming so loud, I believe the neighbours could hear me down the street.

“Now stand in the corner and think of what you did!” He pushed me in the nearest corner squishing my face right into the wall. “And don't you catch me see you looking away, or its the hanger for sure!”

I put my hands on my swollen, red, blistered, butt. I was still crying. I really hate him. I wished I was dead. I wished I was never born.

Dad sat back down and drank his beer. I can tell he drank another, because I can hear another can open up. I didn't know if he was watching me or not. I didn't dare look. I just stood there with my nose in the corner.

The phone rang. Dad answered it.

“Hello!?… No There is no Kiara living here...”

Oh shit! I hope he doesn't find out.

“No, I only have a son!” He was getting angry. “No I don't have a daughter, you have the wrong number!!” He slams the phone, which made me jump.

I couldn't stay here all night, I had things for school to do. “Dad, I need to get my homewo...”

“Did I ask you to talk!” He interrupted me. I didn't answer.

For the next hour and a half, I was stuck in the corner. Dad went in the living room and watched TV. It sounded like some boring sports game between the Oakland Raiders and I believe the Denver Broncos. I really can't tell. I'm not a sports fan. My dad always has to cheer with the Raiders. Why do people always cheer for the team of where they live? Can't they choose some other state as well? Why should I care? I hate sports.

The doorbell rang and a bunch of dads friends came over to watch the game with him. I can smell pizza as well. I'm guessing the pizza guy came as well. My stomach started growling. I wanted a slice, but I didn't dare get out of the corner.

I started crying. I wanted out of this corner. I was hungry and tired. I had homework to do as well. I could hear the guys yelling at the game in the other room. I really wished someone came in here and found me.

Eventually the game was over and all the guys had left. Dad came into the kitchen for who knows what and saw me.

“You're still here?” He barked. Get upstairs to bed.

“But I'm hungry!” I complained.

“There's some pizza in the living room. Have what's left. I'm going to bed.” Dad went to his room. I walked into the living room to find a slice or two. All I found was the crusts. No cheese or sauce. I took them and went to the kitchen to see if we had anything else. As always, we didn't. Dad hasn't been to the store for food in weeks. Always just orders out. I take the pizza crusts and go to my room. A lie on my bed and start to cry. I hate it here. I wish mommy was still living here. I eat the now stale pizza crusts and eventually fall asleep.