Girl, Exchanged: PrologueA Chapter by Jay C.H. Laura.
If her therapist had seen the person-- the thing-- now standing in her trailer like he owned the place, she would take back everything she had said to Laura. She would take back all the anti-psychotics, all the hours of "family therapy." She would finally say "Laura, you were right all along." And Laura, as she pictured herself now, would stride away victorious. "Consider yourself currency," he said lazily, as if he expected her to be hanging onto every word he spoke. Those were his first words to her. She had watched him boldly break into her trailer and that's what he said to her. Astounding. It, she had to convince herself. The thing was an it. Because certainly a human man couldn't embed his fingernails under the locked window and pry it open so swiftly. A human man couldn't slither that way through the now-open window. A human man wouldn't seem to be painted from a whole different palette of colors, so bright it was as if she was seeing them for the first time. And no way could a human man possibly be that attractive. She swallowed. He was not like anything else she had seen. The fat calico cat that watched her from the corners of rooms had always been fuzzy around the edges, and meowed only silently. Her imaginary childhood friends had just been that. This--this was real. In fact, even in dark jeans and a ratty red t-shirt, he seemed realer than real. Everything she had seen before, in her entire life, seemed pale in comparison. He had to be some sort of sissy, glittery vampire. But-- what was it that he had said? That she was currency? Of what worth could she possibly be to him if he wasn't planning on drinking her blood? Strangely, she felt no fear. She wondered if the new medication had robbed her of whatever sense she still possessed, or if she really had seen the man before somewhere. Maybe he was a creature straight from a dream. "Why are you here?" she asked, leaning against the flimsy wall that divided her bunk from the rest of the trailer. She was almost wedged in a corner, and it helped her feel a little more grounded to the reality that everyone around her accepted. She couldn't let go, not yet. He grinned and seemed to fill more space in her vision without actually moving. "I am taking you with me, to serve what little purpose you were born with." She eyed him, feeling like a petulant child. But after all, no matter where he was taking her, what would she be leaving behind? A trailer. A mother that was greying head-to-toe. No friends. Wait, maybe one friend. And a school life she hated, a future that promised nothing. "I'll go with you, but on my terms. Just let me do a few things before you take me. I'm not going to try to hurt you and I won't need to leave the trailer." "Sure," he said. "I need you intact. Do what you need to do." He leaned his a*s, covered in just-right-tight jeans, against the kitchen table. She rolled her eyes. Firstly, she left her mother a note. She was hoping she could pack and leave in the half-hour it took her mother to drive home from work, just to avoid the awkward situation that would no doubt result from a discovery like that. In the note, she said she was staying with her friend from the ward, Gail, who needed her, and flipped open her phone to copy down Gail's number. She doubted her mother would call, at least during the two and a half days until school on Monday. She would probably be ecstatic that Laura even had a friend to visit. Suddenly, she felt huffy, and didn't write "I love you" as she had planned. Next, she texted the aforementioned Gail and said: watch out for texts from me but don't worry. something weird is happening. will text with the details later. if my mom calls, make something up. Finally, she dumped her school bag out on her bed and packed some essentials: iPhone charger, headphones (her second most-expensive possession), a change of clothes, a hoodie, and her school notebook and some pens. Of course her multi-tool, including the blade that had given her the scars covered by hair-scrunchies on her wrists. She considered leaving her medication behind, but wasn't quite sure who she would be without them. Then, by her bed, she spotted her flute in its case, and decided to stuff it into the mesh water-bottle holder on the outside of her backpack. It would be safe in its hardshell case, and she didn't feel that she could bear wherever they were going without it. "Is that a flute?" asked the man, raising one blonde eyebrow. Laura scowled at him, though she knew she didn't look threatening. "None of your f*****g business." She looked around the rest of the trailer, brainstorming. "Where are we going?" "None of your f*****g business." "Come on, don't do me like that. I'm being cooperative. Will there be food? Do I need to bring a tent?" He chuckled. "All your needs will be provided for. To me, you are a bar of gold." She blushed and, seeing that he saw this, felt a surge of anger. "Okay. Lead on."
© 2013 Jay C.H.Author's Note
|
Stats
164 Views
1 Review Added on August 4, 2013 Last Updated on August 4, 2013 Tags: fantasy, chapter, lesbian, sexuality, teen, romance, changeling, fairies, fairy tale, novel, mental illness, depression, therapy Author
Jay C.H.NYAboutJay, transgender guy, 20 years old. Creative Writing major and Theatre minor in the most Canadian place in America. Currently employed as a theatrical lighting designer. My tastes are a little scho.. more..Writing
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing