Chapter Text
Battery City is a beautiful place; nothing is out of order, everything makes sense, and nothing new ever happens. Every day, people do the same three things; wake up, go to work/school, and then go home. Everything is as it should be; nothing weird, strange, or confusing.
Except for one thing.
Me.
There must be something wrong with me; even my meds can’t fix it; my body feels weird, like it should be different, like I was born to be someone else. This is wrong. I know that I am a girl, but for some reason, my irrational mind does not think that. I may be only 12 years old, but I am smart enough to know that since I was born female, I am a girl.
So why do I feel this way? I was not born male, I am not a boy; why do I feel like one? The only way for me to really be a boy is if I were born one. I wish my mind would get the message.
But what if I am a boy? What if I am not being irrational?
No. I am a girl, that will not change, no matter what weird thoughts I have. There were doctors at my birth; they said I was a girl, so therefore, I am a girl.
This is too much, I need to go to sleep; I have school tomorrow! Pull yourself together, Isabel. Acting like this will get you sent to a re-correction school.
It took me a bit to fall asleep. When my eyes finally shut, I dreamt of a different life, one without these pills and weird rules.
I woke up in what I thought was a cold sweat; but as it turned out, it was just my older brother Luca pouring water on my face.
“Hey!” I yelled; my hair was soaking wet, and there was a huge damp spot on my pillow.
“Mom said to wake you up. She didn’t say how, though!” He grinned. That idiot was proud of himself; he made me look like a damn mess.
“Don’t worry, Isa,” He said, “It’s not like you can get any uglier.”
Way to start off my morning.
“Says you…” I mumbled, thank god he didn’t hear.
All my siblings were horrible; Luca was probably the best of them, and as you could tell, that’s a really low bar. There was Diego, whose anger issues were so bad that last year, he got sent to re-correction school, and hasn’t come back since; it was probably for the best, though, he threw a chair at me once. Victoria was a horrible person; she was so mean; my self-esteem was no match for her cruelty. And the worst of them all, Rafeal. He was violent, selfish, and had no respect for anyone but himself. He hated everyone, especially me. Ever since the day I was born, he despised me, just because I was the youngest.
Some kids get special treatment for being the youngest. Not me. My parents don’t like me; they think I’m odd, and they believe that I am a disappointment.
Maybe I am a disappointment. Maybe that’s what I’m meant to be; the youngest, the hated child, the girl who didn’t act like one, the lazy kid, the idiot. Maybe that’s just who I am.
When I got to school, my teacher yelled at me for being 3 minutes late.
“I don’t care that your bus was late! You should be at school, on time, no matter the situation!”
“I’m- I’m sorry, Mrs. McKenna. It won’t happen again.” I apologized. I was about to cry, but crying in a room full of middle schoolers is practically a death sentence. So I got myself together, and I sat in my seat.
“Get out your math books. Page 32.”
Mrs. McKenna was just like every teacher at my school: cold, mean, and strict. She didn’t care if I was sick, she didn’t care if my leg was broken, or if I was in a car crash; she would still expect me to come to school at 7:45 sharp. She also just hated me. I wasn’t sure why; maybe she just didn’t like the way I read out loud. I’m a pretty monotone reader. Or was it my accent? Maybe she didn’t like my Hispanic intonation. But it was probably my Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder; my parents said that no teacher would be able to handle me, so it was most likely that.
There must be something wrong with me.