Chapter Seven: Reticence

A sea of black, and crying faces.

Funerals are horrible, this is my fifth one. First one when I was six, my uncle. Second, my best friend, cancer, we were both aged eight. Third, my cousin, I was twelve, and he was fourteen - hit by a car. Next, my parents' funeral. Now, this. More than anything, I hate churches. I do believe in God, but I also believe that He hates me. Satan isn't really a bad being. God is the evil one: He claims to be perfect - omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent - but of course, it's all lies. I like to use the "starving children in Africa" argument. Religion, of course, is a very complex thing. To each their own.

The eulogy is boring and people just cry and blow their noses the whole way through it anyway - it's not that I don't care about her, I just find it difficult to express sympathy when she made the decision to end her own life.

After it's all over, I sit in the graveyard. I'm not going to the wake, and I want to be alone. Of course, just my luck, my solitude doesn't last long. A young girl comes towards me, slowly. I recognise her as Li's sister, I think she's about ten. She sits next to me on the grass, but she doesn't say anything. Maybe she just wants someone that isn't crying.

"Hi," I say. I don't really like children, I'm not sure how to act with them. I'm not sure what I'm doing half the time anyway.

"I think Li's going to Hell," she says, simply. "She killed herself. It's a sin."

"I'm not sure of that. She was a good person. Maybe God will have mercy on her," I suggest.

"No," she says, sounding annoyed. "What would you know, anyway? You're going there too. Homosexual," she mutters under her breath.

Confused, I just roll with it. You don't mess with a person when they're grieving. "Fair enough," I whisper, almost inaudible. A gentle breeze blows through my hair, and I listen closely to hear the birds chirping in the trees. Being outside, one with nature, has such a calming effect. Almost like it cleanses your soul. It makes me feel better, less impure - because, let's face it, there are many impurities about me. I look at the young girl next to me. Her eyes show that she's hurting - looking at someones eyes helps you to understand. When I look at my own, I see permanent pain. 

"If someone killed her, it would be easy - I'd kill them. But, she did this to herself. And so I have no-one to be angry at, except her. And no-one else is," she says.

"I've never lost a sibling," I try to comfort, "so I don't know how it feels. My parents are dead though, and their killers are still out there. It's okay to be angry at her. But don't take it out on other people or they'll hate you," I say, bluntly.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me sometimes. Sometimes, I just get really angry, and I can't control it. It just... builds up inside of me. Li didn't get that. She was always just shy, and calm, and never got angry. But, sometimes, I hear stuff in my-" her mum calls her name. "Coming!" She shouts. "See ya," she says.

Flustered, I try and make sense of the conversation that just took place. Quite clearly, she was going to tell me that she hears voices in her head. Not that it would be a good idea to tell her that the same thing happens to me. I'm like poison, and anyone that I ever seem to care about dies. Which is why it's an awful idea to have a relationship with Sophie. I know what her parents are like, anyway. They'd not want her to date someone white, and they certainly wouldn't want it to be a trans guy. However, I truly care about her, and I think I love her, and for once in my life, I think I deserve something that makes me happy that isn't a destructive behaviour or coping mechanism.

The sun shines brightly in my eyes. I feel restricted in this stupid suit. I get up and begin to walk home, it's not a long journey. With every car that goes past, I wonder if it would be a good idea to jump in front of one.

You need to get a grip, son. The girl was correct. You are going to Hell. With me. With your parents. With your brothers. You will die. Everything you touch will burn. Don't get in a relationship with The Black Girl.

It hasn't been this clear in months. Him, that his, His voice. It booms and echoes and feels like my eardrums are going to burst.

Of course, it's all in my head. Or is it? You're schizophrenic. Or is it really Satan? I'm not going to listen this time.