Flash forward to the beginning of summer, a few months after my 16th birthday. I still liked to swipe my sister's clothes, but I didn't look like some faggot little kid when I did it. I taught myself, with help from the internet, of course, to make myself look hot. I made a decent pair of breast forms, grew my hair out, and spent my allowance on a basic makeup kit. I practiced my mannerisms, I nearly perfected my voice, and even occasionally went into town as a girl. I had been decided for months; I was never meant to be a guy.
I decided to tell Mom and Dad.
The next day was a Saturday. My sister had gone out with her boyfriend, leaving me and my parents alone.
"Mom? Dad? Could... could I talk to you?"
Dad muted the TV and Mom shut her book. "What is it, sweetie?"
"Um..." I had no idea what to do. "Mom, Dad, I hope you don't hate me for this... I've known for a while..."
"Oh my god." Dad slammed his hand on the arm of his chair. "My son's not going to be some faggot, is he?"
"No... Um, no..." I felt tears grow in my eyes. "I wanna be a girl!" I spoke fast, and cringed.
And hour later, I sat sobbing in my room, with a black eye, no confidence, and no respect from my parents. Grounded for what could be years. Just for trying to become who I should be?
I hated them. I wiped the tears from my eyes, and made my decision. I didn't need this bullshit. I had to leave. I took an armful of my sister's clothes, all extremely comfortable, as I had no idea where I'd end up. Nothing that I couldn't easily run or climb in. My makeup kit was a bit of a debate in my mind; not much need to look sexy on the run, but I felt weird leaving it behind. I got dressed in a pair of jeans and a cute tank top, grabbed my bag, grabbed all , and left the house quietly, never planning on returning.
I walked for hours, leaving town alone and permanently. I walked down the highway until nightfall, and then hid out in a gas station bathroom off one of the exits. I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up groggily later to a gruff voice. "What're you doing here?"
I looked up. There was a chubby man in a dirty wifebeater and a ragged pair of jeans. His face had specks of food on it, and he had a lopsided half-grown beard.
I looked up at him, kinda nervous. "Um... nothing... I needed somewhere to sleep..."
I glared at me. "How old are you, girl?"
My eyes widened. I was surprised a bit by how he addressed me, but then I remembered how I was dressed. "I... I, um, I'm sixteen."
"Young lady like yourself shouldn't be alone. Where're your parents?"
I didn't know what to say. "Um..." I said the first thing that came to my mind. "Dead! They're dead..." I lied.
"Shame. How long?"
I hesitated. "Um, a month."
"Shit. Well, I'm sorry, girlie. You need a ride somewhere?"
I got off the floor. "Um... Yeah..."
"I'll bring you home, 'kay? You still know where you lived, huh?"
"Yeah... yes, I do... Thank you..."
He lead me surprisingly gently to his truck. He got in the driver's side, wiped a few cigarette butts from my seat, and we settled in.
He didn't start the truck. "Um... I'll tell you where to go..." I murmured.