White text on a black background. The word mug is highlighted in green.
Aunt Tracy is washing dishes. Washing one
dish, over and over. Happy anniversary.
There's coffee left in the pot she brewed, and I pour the remains into a mug for myself. Usually I wouldn't, as it doesn't mix well with my meds. But today I don't care about the side effects.
The coffee is cold. Aunt Tracy has been up for a while. I don't bother heating it up.
"Good morning, Cainen." The sound of her using my new name is jarring. Like a metal rod being jammed into my back. On today of all days.
I fight the urge to crawl back to my room.
Back into the closet. To keep living the lie that is Clementine. Keep being the daughter my parents wanted.
Would they rather have a dead daughter or a
living son?
I guess I'll never know what they wanted. I know which option I'd prefer, though. The one that means I don't have to live without them. The one that means I don't have to betray their memory every day.
Where I don't have to live with Aunt Tracy, or window shop for therapists, or move schools every year like clockwork.
I'd take being a dead daughter over this in a
heartbeat.
Today’s #WIPsnips word is #mug. This is from early on in the book, the anniversary of Cainen’s parents’ death.
#wip #writing #queer #trans #fiction #ya #trauma #horror #writesky #booksky #mentalillness #fantasy