This story contains moments of transphobia and moments some might find distressing. Please be aware of that. I'm Not SickMy heart is beating like crazy.
My breathing is fast and unsteady.
Frantically, I move to try to hide my secret activity.
But it’s not enough.
Footsteps draw closer. I’m stuck in the moment, fear building from deep inside me. The door swings open, and I’m seen. Not ready to be, I’m thrust out into the spotlight wearing clothes not meant for me.
“Rudi!” My sister screams, eyes wide, mouth open, shocked. “What are you doing?! Why are you wearing my skirt?”
Thinking I was alone, her denim skirt sits on my hips, half undone, the last piece of clothing I couldn’t remove in time.
I try again, snatching at the skirt, but quickly remember what underwear I'm wearing.
Hers.
Not because I wanted to. Not because it's something seedy. But because of how it makes me feel inside. Wern’s clothes are the key to the door that releases me from this prison I was born into.
“Wait?!” Wren gasps as I hesitate to remove her skirt. “You’re not….”
She steps closer
I step away.
“Rudi…” Wren gets angry, her teeth clenched. “You better have not!”
I bite my lip and watch the tears mist in her eyes. I need not say anything; she knows what I’ve done. A glance in the direction of her underwear draw comfirms it.
“P-Please, Wren.” I bring up my arms as if she might pounce. “Y-You don’t understand.”
She flips, her hair swaying as she shouts. “You’re right, I DON’T!” A single tear runs down her cheek. “You’re a boy, Rudi! A BOY!” She wipes at her face as she stares me down, making me feel as small as a mouse. “Why would you want to wear my panties!?”
I mutter incoherently for a moment, unable to organize my thoughts. All I want to do is run for my bedroom, lock the door, and never be seen by Wren again, but she blocks my path, waiting for the answer.
“WHY?!” she barks, making me jump.
Inside me, something begins to show. An anger held deep in my heart. I can’t help but let it free. The injustice of my life too much to handle in this moment.
“I DON’T KNOW!” I shout so hard my voice aches.
Hands over her mouth, shocked, Wren steps back, sacred.
“Is…Is it a sexual thing?” Wren questions, barely able to bring herself to say the words. “A-Are my panties something you use, Rudi?” She goes pale at the thought.
“NO!” I shriek, my body now shaking.
“Liar!” she shrieks back. “You little sick perverted werido!”
My face burns red, and I clench my fists tight. That anger, pushed down deep, turns to self-hatred and tears well in my eyes. I stand before my sister, wearing her clothes, accused of being something I’m not, but unable to find the words to explain what I really am.
“Rudi…” She steps aside, looking almost disgusted to be in my presence. “Get out of my room right now. Keep those clothes, I don’t care!”
Seeing my chance at freedom, I step closer to the door, my body feeling incredibly heavy with the emotions in the room. Almost clear of Wren, she shouts at me just as I’m about to leave her room.
“You’re sick, Rudi!”
I stop, facing away from her, disgusted with the urges deep within me that made me go into her room. However, I reply. “I’m not…sick.”
My legs wobble as I stand there crying, wanting with all my heart for her to understand, but how can you explain something to someone that you yourself do not fully understand?
“I’m not…sick…” I whisper again, through my tears, knowing deep down that’s not right.
“Well, you’re something…” she sobs, slamming the bedroom door shut, almost hitting me with it as I stand just in front of the threshold.
My head pounding, my vision blurring, I take short, sharp breaths, wanting desperately to take a single step towards my room, but I’m frozen stiff. In my mind, catastrophe looms. Probing questions from our parents, mocking comments from everyone who finds out I wear my sister's clothes.
I want to collapse right there on the floor, but life kicks me while I’m down.
“Rudi!” Wren screams from behind her closet door as I hear her moving around in my room. “You’ve touched all my stuff! I hate you! I’m telling Mom!”
two days later…
A gentle knock on the door.
I don’t react, lying still on my bed in the dark.
After being dragged in front of the whole family to answer why I was wearing Wren’s clothes, I don’t want to look at any of their judgmental faces.
The made-up reasons and bare face lies I told them barely even touched the sides, compared to the lies I continue to tell myself.
Maybe I'm a freak?
Maybe I’m what they all claim me to be—a pervert.
Either way, I’m now something the family doesn’t wish to acknowledge. I’m now the child they wished didn’t exist. I’m now the stain on their clothes that they cannot remove.
“Rudi…” my Mom’s voice says softly through the door as she taps at my door again. “Rudi, I’m coming in.”
Again, I say nothing.
My solitude is my only solace. No expectations of me, just my own thoughts, twisted by some sort of rot that lingers inside of me, making me hate my own existence. Everything about me is wrong, but I still cannot explain why.
“I’m not sick… I’m not sick…” I mutter, grabbing clumps of my hair anxiously as my mother knocks once again.
The door clicks open, and the hallway light streams into my bedroom. Like a vampire, I cover myself in my duvet, not wanting to be seen. Then there’s a disappointed sigh, almost like my mother is sad I even exist.
“Dinner’s on the table, sweetheart. Dad said you can sit with us tonight. Come down, please.”
I say nothing.
I can’t bear to be seen by any of them. The looks on their faces as they learned of my actions are still burned into the back of my mind. My dad throwing the TV remote across the room whilst yelling, ‘No son of mine is growing up a puff,’ still cutting deep at my heart.
“Listen, Rudi….” Mom stands in the doorway, her impatience evident in her tone. “Yes, we’re all shocked at your behavior, but you’ll soon find yourself out on the street if you keep acting this way.”
I bite down hard on my hand, trying to hide the fact that I’m crying as she talks.
“As far as we’re all concerned, you’ll go get the help that’s needed, and then we shall not speak of it anymore. You’re sick, son. You need help, and we’re going to get it for you.”
Again, I mutter quietly, telling myself I’m not sick.
Mom overhears and steps into my room. “Rudi…” she stands at the side of my bed. “You are a sweetheart. You are sick. Why else would a teenage boy choose to put on his sister's underwear of all things…?”
“I’m not sick…” I snap, still hidden under the covers.
“Sweetheart…” Mom sighs as if I’m a bother. “We aren’t going over this again. You can’t keep telling us you wore her stuff because it feels more normal than your own clothes. You’re not a girl.”
My emotions once again boil inside of me. I feel the door to the outside of my prison growing smaller and smaller. No one to help me. No one to understand.
“Just say it, Mom!” I snap again, shouting at her as tears soak into my pillow. “Just admit you hate me and you wish I’d never been born!”
She tuts loudly, and I hear her begin to walk away.
Her footsteps stop as I hear my door creak as she begins to shut it.
“Once you’ve got some help.” She says plainly, as if she can barely stand to be in my presence any longer. “Then hopefully we can mend the damage you’ve inflicted on all of us, Rudi. Maybe then we can talk about loving you again….”
The door slams shut, and the room is once again pitch dark.
However, it’s not just the darkness in the room that surrounds me. The darkness also encases my heart, locking me away from the daylight I was desperate to find.
Twenty years later…
The drive home is rather tense.
Dressed in our finest, my wife and I have left the party early. Once again, my doing.
Sarah was having a wonderful time mingling with the others, chatting away about our kids, schools, and her work, whilst I stood beside her, mute, unable to add to the conversation, seemingly miserable, and a grumpy soul to those all around us.
“Why do we always have to leave these things so early, Rudi?” she asks, unimpressed as I turn down our road in the family wagon.
“I’m…I’m not feeling very well,” I reply, it being my de facto answer
She glances at me in the way she always does. A mixture of impatience and disdain. A look I had never received until after we were married.
“You’re always sick,” she states rudely. “Maybe it’s time you went to a doctor.”
I snap, angrily.
“I’m not sick!”
She says nothing. In fact, she says nothing more until we get home. All I hear is a few sobs and whimpers from her. She’s unhappy, after tonight, that’s clear, but I can’t help but feel she’s really just unhappy being married to me.
Parking, she’s the first to get out. Slowly, I follow, my head down, hoping that if I stay quiet, she might forgive me sooner. She opens the door to our family home, expecting to see our two children, Chloe and Flyn, sitting together at the TV.
The TV is off as we step inside. An odd occurrence for kids growing up in the naughties.
Sarah glances at me, and I can see the red in her eyes from where she’s been crying, but that’s not why she’s looking at me, confused.
“Weird.” She comments at the sight of the TV being off.
I say nothing as I step further inside our home, knowing that I’ll somehow make it up to my wife, like I always do, to try and keep her happy.
Then, screaming from the rooms upstairs. Chloe is screaming at the top of her lungs. Panic ensues as my wife kicks off her high heels and rushes up the stairs, with me following right behind her.
The commotion continues, coming from Chloe’s room as we hear yet more screaming!
“Flyn!” Chloe yells. “What the heck are you doing!?”
Frantic, breathing heavy, Sarah and I rush to her bedroom door to investigate. What we find makes my wife gasp in shock, and almost brings my heart to a stop. In front of us, Chloe, fists clenched with anger, and just past her, further inside the room, our youngest son dressed in nothing but Chloe’s bra and knickers.
My mind blazes through a million thoughts a second. I almost feel like I’m watching the scene play out like a movie on the big screen. Chloe throws several of her teddy bears at Flyn as he hides behind anything he can, terror written across his face as we all stare.
“He’s sick, Mom!” Chloe cries out, reacting to our presence, pointing at Flyn the entire time.
Sarah, emotional, stomps towards our son, yanks him out from behind the closet door he was hiding behind, and throws him into the middle of the room, surrounded by all of us on all sides.
His barely covered body trembles with fear, but I can’t bring myself to move or say anything. My eye twitches several times as Flyn begins to cry, breaking down into a heap on the floor.
“Mom…” Chloe rushes to her, embracing her mother as if she’s seen a ghost. “I-I…I went out for like twenty minutes to see Chad, and when I came back, I found Flyn wearing my underwear!”
My throat is dry, but I still swallow as my wife glares at our son with fury.
“Flyn!” she shrieks at the top of her lungs, all her pent-up frustrations boiling to the surface. “EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOUNG MAN!”
Flyn says nothing, whimpering on the floor.
The door to the darkness imprisoning my heart locks even tighter shut as I just watch on.
“He’s sick, Rudi…” Sarah glares at me from across the room, clutching our daughter to protect her as if our son were a wild animal. “H-He’s sick like you were. W-We need to talk to your Mom about getting him help…. like they did you!”
I freeze completely still, my only movement a slight twitch in my left eye.
“I’m…not sick,” Flyn grumbles through his tears.
“You are, pervert!” Chloe yells at him. “I don’t even wanna think about what you were about to do with my knickers. It’s sick. You're sick!”
Then, both Chloe and Sarah look at me, expectantly.
“Tell him, Dad!” Chloe pleads to me, still clutching desperately at her mother.
I look down at Flyn, and even though he’s curled up into a little whimpering ball, covering his face with his hands, I see his tear-soaked eyes looking back up at me in fear. I see the locked door to his own daylight fading into the distance.
But I say….nothing.
Emotionless, I turn and walk away.
The sobbing continues, then the scolding follows, and I do nothing at all.
A week later…
Having received an invitation to my sister’s home, I gladly agree to come visit. Sarah, not wanting to come, stays home with Chloe and Flyn. Gently, I knock at her door, expecting her husband to answer, but to my surprise, it’s my son.
I look down at him, confused, but he doesn’t look me in the eye.
“Flyn?” I question, looking back at my car parked on Wren’s front drive, considering if he’d stoed away somehow. “W-What?”
Seconds later, Wren appears in the hallway behind my son, wearing a warm smile. Not an expression from her I’m used to.
“Rudi…” She stands at the door, holding it open as Flyn slinks back behind her and into her home. “How are you?”
“Erm, fine,” I answer quickly, then look around her. “Why is my son here?”
Wren looks back over her shoulder and then glances at me, worried. “He came over on his own.”
“He did?”
Wren nods. “Yup.”
“Why?”
She closes her lips tight before ushering me inside. As I close the door behind me, Flyn has moved into the living room. Letting out a sigh, I scratch at the back of my head.
“He’s bothering you,” I say, coming to the conclusion as to why I've been invited over. “I’ll take him home right now. Sorry, Wren.”
She clutches at my hand to stop me. I look back at her, bemused.
Her gaze meets mine.
“Rudi,” she whispers softly, letting go of my hand as tears well in her eyes. “N-No… that’s not it.” Her voice cracks with emotion, and she grips me tighter. “I-I’m the one that’s sorry.”
My eye twitches, and I shake my head. “No need to be sorry, Wren. I’ll take Flyn home, and I’ll tell him not to bother you again.”
I slide my hand from her grip, but she snatches at me again before I can move.
“No, Rudi…” her voice cracks with a whimper. “I’m sorry.”
“Y-Yeah…” I get a little frustrated with her and yank my hand from hers. “You don’t have to be. Flyn’s going through some stuff at the moment, and he needs to be back home…”
As I begin to walk towards the room Flynn is in, Wren stops me in my tracks.
“He’s not sick.” She states clearly, knowing exactly how to hurt me.
I freeze, my eye twitches.
“He’s not sick…” She reaches for my hand at my side and squeezes it tight. “And neither are you. I’m sorry.”
My heart skips a beat, and my skin burns. Rage builds in my chest, yet this time feels different.
“W-What?” I say angrily, all my self-loathing pushing against her words to make them not real. To keep them from giving me false hope.
She embraces me from behind, her head pushed into my back as I stand, shaking before her.
“I’m sorry!” she repeats, muffled into my back, sobbing. “Flyn told me what happened. It’s just like you all those years ago. You weren’t sick, I see that now, and I know this doesn’t make up for any of it, but I’m deeply sorry.”
A single tear rolls down my cheek.
“Flyn needs you.” Wren continues, still holding me tight.
“What’s he said to you?” I ask softly, knowing in my mind exactly what Flyn is feeling.
She takes a deep breath as she slowly lets go of me. Moving to my side, she clutches my hand tightly and speaks in a whisper.
“After he told me what happened, I asked him why he did it. Not unlike you back when I caught you doing the same.”
I watch my sister wipe a tear from her cheek as she talks.
“But I didn’t judge him, like I judged you, Rudi. I-I…I let him tell me.”
I wait for her to continue.
“Flyn told me he feels like being a boy leaves him trapped inside a dark room without any rays of hope or any chance of escape.”
I splutter, my lip wobbling as yet more repressed emotions burst free. “H-H-He did…?”
Wren moves around in front of me, looking me in the eye the entire time. She clutches my other hand with hers and presses her head against my chest, holding me, sobbing the entire time.
“Yes.”
She grips my hands harder, as if she’s in pain.
“He told me he wore Chloe’s clothes because it makes him feel like a girl. When I ask him why that’s something he wants to feel, he told me it’s because he is a girl, Rudi.”
She stops, bites her bottom lip as the tears stream from her eyes. She looks deep into my eyes before continuing.
“Flyn’s a girl, Rudi.” She stutters before saying, “and now I understand that you are the same. I’m sorry for saying nothing as Mom and Dad ‘fixed’ you, Rudi. I hate myself. I really hate myself for it.”
I swallow hard; the emotions of it all are hard to handle. I howl in pain, clutching at my sister as if she’s finally seeing past the lies I’ve been forced into.
“Let it out.” She pats my back as we hold each other. “Let it all out.”
We hold each other for what seems like hours. The two of us share a moment years in the making, and, like that, elation warms my heart, and the prison that locked me away for so long starts to break apart, letting some light stream in.
Wren steps back from me, smiling through her tears.
“Go help Flyn.” She steps aside. “Don’t let him think he’s sick any longer, Rudi. Show him just how special he really is and that we all love him.”
I take a deep breath and smile back at Wren.
“T-Thank you, Wren.”
“For what…” she scoffs, waving away my thanks with an embarrassed smile. “I know it’ll take more than this to make up for how I acted towards you, Rudi.”
“I mean it.” I take a single step towards Flyn and look back at her. “You’ll never in your wildest dreams know just how even the littlest of understanding can make a world of difference.”
I step into the living room. Flyn sits nervously on the sofa, seemingly terrified by my presence. I offer him a smile and a single statement.
“I understand you, Flyn. You’re not sick….but let’s see if we can shine a light through that darkness on who you really want to be.”