“This.” I gripped my spine through my skin, as if I could tear it out, show him. “There’s something wrong inside me. Fundamentally wrong. It’s a design flaw and I can build a grand illusion on top of it, but the core is still broken.”
I squatted in the snow. Imagined smashing my body into the pavement, watching shattered pieces tumble out, one of them the faulty gender mechanism. It was in me somewhere, the wrongness that caused all of this. The fault. Armin knelt beside me, his coat flocked with snow.
He said the last thing I expected.
“Did you up your dosage?”
“What?”
“I spoke with Ellis. She thinks you’re self-medicating depression with testosterone.”
“Since when are you and Ellis speaking?”
“Since she needed a clinical opinion. And I think she’s right. I’ve noticed an increase in your energy level. You’re working out more, skipping rest days. More positive, upbeat. And quicker to anger.” He spread his hands. “I’m not your doctor, but I am your friend. I’m worried about you, too.”
I rubbed my knuckles in the snow. Still tender, pink. A little harder and the wound would reopen. “My levels were low, so I raised them.”
“Under a doctor’s care, or your own?”
“I can’t afford a blood test every time I get sad, Armin. Besides, I have five years of experience with this stuff. I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s what worries me. I think you’re trying to boost your levels as high as possible, beyond a healthy range.”
“What’s healthier: anger or depression?”
“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he began, and then his phone rang. “It’s Laney. One moment.”
His face transformed as he listened to her. A frown first, dubious. Then his forehead furrowed, deep worry settling in. When he hung up he paused, ruminating.
“What is it?” I said.
“Do you know someone named Norah?”
I’d never forget those nails scoring my back, that girlish voice gasping Fuck me with this. I flushed. “Yeah, from Umbra. Why?”
Armin grimaced. “It’s better if we show you.”
———
They were all there in his apartment, their faces hooded with shadow. On the horizon the last light strained through snow, a pale gold mist. Tamsin moved toward me and gripped my coat. Her scent suffused the space between us: almond oil, leather, girl. She gave me a strangely intent look.
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered.
“Believe what?”
Laney called her name. Tam stepped back obediently.
“Why does this look like a funeral?” I said, my voice cracking.
Ellis broke from the group and took my arm. “Let’s sit down together, okay? All of us.”
Everyone clustered around me at the dining table. In the center lay an iPad with a video loaded. The thumbnail showed a pretty face I knew, mascara streaking her skin like black watercolor paint. Dark hair hung over that face, disheveled. The video title read MESSAGE TO R’S FANS (TW: RAPE).
A hand fitted over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure whose. My body was beginning to go numb.
Laney tapped PLAY.
———
NORAH: [Crying.] I hate this. I don’t want to do it. I wish I could just disappear. But I have to make this video, I have to. Not for me. For other girls out there. Girls who might be hurt by . . . him.
[Blows her nose.]
I can’t say his name, or he could sue me. But I can give you hints. He’s popular. Like, one million subs popular. And he’s smart, and attractive, and honestly, before this happened? I thought he was so brave. I mean, being transgender is really hard. People hate him just for existing. It’s horrible, and maybe . . . I don’t know, maybe that’s what made him do this.
I hate him now, too. But not because of who he is. Because of what he did to me.
He lives in the same city I do. Hangs out at this club all the time, and his fans go there to meet him. He’s a local celeb. I was one of his biggest fangirls. I thought it was really cool of him to be there for us. Talk to fans, give us advice, all that.
But here’s the part no one mentions: He uses us. It’s all a front. He pretends to be this guru helping others, but the whole time he’s sweet-talking girls, seducing them. If you want his attention you have to be pretty. And you have to be willing to do whatever. He. Wants.
Don’t believe me? Just look.
[Images flash on-screen: Ren, his face blurred out, photographed with various girls at Umbra. In several pics, he appears to be groping their bodies.]
I have the originals, if anyone doubts me. With his face.
But like I said, I looked up to him. Admired him. I didn’t mind that he’s kind of a manwhore. Or that he’s trans. To me, he’s the same as any other guy. Exactly the same. Brain chemistry, personality, everything. He is a guy.
It’s important you understand that, because I didn’t. Not really. Because I thought he was also . . . different. Special. That being raised as a girl meant he wouldn’t hurt me.
[Cries.]
I’m sorry. This is—this is so hard.