I looked out the wire-meshed window to the tree across the grounds that represented a freedom I once knew. My heart was heavy and I could feel the rage building inside of me, knowing in this moment that my father’s surgery was taking place and by now he was more than likely, and officially, a woman. I thought of what they did with the discarded penis, the cut off cock of my father. Was it thrown into the trash like an unwanted mole or hair? I’m sure some women and gay men would love to see something like that, perhaps helping them overcome some intimacy, rape, or fear issues related to the male penis.

WHY DO I THINK LIKE THIS!?

Suddenly, the rage of self-hatred became too much for me and I slammed my fist into the window. My knuckles merely bounced back in pain and I shaked my hand out, looking at the tree moving in the distance, its leaves propelled by the passing breeze. It knew no boundaries and had the freedom to move and the freedom to grow.

The saddest realization of my life is that I’m dying in this stinking rat hole they call a mental health facility. I have to escape. Listen to me, yeah, right. Escape, just like in the goddamn movies.

Suddenly, I heard keys being inserted. The door opened and the towering figure of James now loomed in my doorway.

“You wanted to see her?” He asked, checking his back to make sure no one was watching. He motioned me out of my room.

Lily’s door looked like any room but within its metal window I could see the beautiful prize that waited on the inside. James’ breath was heavy behind me as he whispered, “Enjoy her. Because I’m going to enjoy you later.”

He spoke the truth but I didn’t care. I quietly stepped into her room, James shutting the door behind me. She stirred but in the shadows I could tell she remained asleep.

The horrible fantasies of what I could to do this beautiful waif--- anything I wanted--- made my pleasure salivate. But I knew if I were to do that there would be no escape from this hellhole. I had a scheme and I knew that for it to work, she would have to trust me.

I touched her hair, her sleeping face curled into her hands as she lay in a fetus position across the sagging mattress. She stirred, then waking, and suddenly pulled away from me in shock and terror.

“It’s all right, Lily,” I whispered. “I’m here…to be with you, if that’s all right? If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave. Whatever you want.”

She stared at me for what felt like hours, when she slowly reached forward and stroked the hair across my forearms. She leaned over and kissed my hands, then sat back across the bed. I moved closer to her, spooning my body next to hers.

What a pair we made. I was the psychopathic split-personality disorder and she was the disillusioned manic-depressive, both of us now cuddled together in a quiet moment of solitude and warmth. I could feel my body relaxing.

Suddenly, the thoughts of the tree out my window were no longer filling my brain with anger, but now with peace. We simply held each other in the darkness. That was enough. And all of my reasons, all of my plans, all of my hate--- in that moment--- seemed to disappear as I felt her breathing with mine.

For once, I felt human. I felt alive.