Twilight

Twilight

It began like a normal day at the dock. As always, I wore my lavender summer dress and one-inch heel sandals. Every day I went out at sunrise and came back exactly at twilight. But this day would be different.

My name? At this moment, my name is irrelevant; suffice it to say that I’m old enough to live on my own. But as I was saying, this day would be the day. I had been waiting for it since the moment I could truly be free.

You must be wondering —and not without reason— why all the secrecy, what I look like, who I am… and here is the answer: I am me. I dress in a way that reflects how I feel. What am I like? Cheerful, free, unbound. All my life I was what others wanted me to be, and now… now I am me.

But enough digression. If you're here, it’s because you're interested in my story. So let’s go back to where it all began.

Back then I was seven, and everyone called me by the name my parents had chosen. I was always short and thin. I never socialized, kept away from everyone and everything. My parents often took me to psychologists who tried to pull me out of my shell, but the result? I just withdrew further and further.

It was in 8th grade when I met the person who would help me become simply myself.

Her name was Alejandra, a beautiful girl I became obsessed with just to be near. We were almost neighbors—Ale lived three houses down the street. She was the only girl who saw me for who I was—not as a boy or a girl, but simply as me.

Two weeks passed before I dared to accept her invitation to hang out after school, and another two before I dared follow her to her room. Her parents didn’t seem to mind me being alone with their daughter; her mother even encouraged it.

We were in her room like every afternoon. She still wore her school uniform. I had always envied how pretty she looked. And then it happened: she went to her closet and started rummaging through clothes, picked out an outfit, and went to change in the bathroom. When she came out, I saw it—it was the most beautiful outfit I had ever seen. And since we were the same size, I put it on. I felt so free. So me.

When she came out and saw me wearing it, she simply said she knew it would look good on me, and that she had bought it for me with her mother’s help. I was in shock, unable to say a word. There I was, wearing my friend’s clothes, and she was complimenting me.

That afternoon, I was finally free.

The problem came when I went back home. Mom was cooking dinner and Dad was in his home office when I walked in through the door. I had such a good time that I forgot to change, and Mom saw me. I don’t remember anything else from that day—only the terrible pain when I woke up in the hospital.

They kept me for two weeks while my injuries healed. Ale told me everything about my parents’ case, the custody trial her parents were pursuing, the looks of hatred my father gave my mother and vice versa. Since I was a minor, I never had to testify, and the reporters never bothered me.

Ale wasn’t just my link to the outside world—she became my sister, my anchor. It took two months for my legal name to be changed to my real name. Ale and I went to school together. I wore the correct uniform now. We had a Sweet Sixteen party together—she wore a beautiful pink dress, and mine was lavender.

And today, with my sister by my side, I’m going to the hospital to finish the journey I started years ago. And at last, I’ll be able to say…

Hello, I’m Amanda Jessica Duncan.