I'll always love you

1

--Laurens--

"Joan?" Mr Washington called out, I winced at the name, "here sir, and I prefer John." I could hear muffled outbursts of laughter come from the back. Mr Washington nodded and silenced the class.
"Hey Joan...oh sorry I mean John!" Thomas Jefferson jeered as he walked past. As usual I ran to the ,male, bathroom and locked myself in a cubical. I opened up the chat I had with Alexander Hamilton.

Turtleboylaurens: hey, you free to talk?
Hammysandwhich: yeah sure.
Turtleboylaurens: whatcha doing hammy?
Hammysandwhich: I've locked myself in a bathroom cubicle because it's break and I'm basically the definition of social suicide.
Turtleboylaurens: NO WAY ME TOO!!!!!
Hammysandwhich: aha, we have soooo much in common.
Turtleboylaurens: you make me laugh hammy.
Hammysandwhich: I make everyone laugh. Breaks over see ya later turtle boy.

--later that day--

Hammysandwhich: John, I wanna get to know you better. All I know is that you're a potterhead (that's how we started talking after all) and that you love turtles.
Turtleboylaurens: okay ask me a question and we'll go back and forth!
Hammysandwhich: what's your favourite colour? Mine's red.
Turtleboylaurens: green, how old are you (we don't even know that yet) I'm 19
Hammysandwhich: 18, where do you live, I live in the Caribbean.
Turtleboylaurens: New York, the Caribbean sounds awesome!
Hammysandwich: it really isn't.

We talked for hours and eventually knew everything about each other, well not everything. One thing I kept to myself, you can probably guess what.
Hammysandwich: send me a pic of yourself *not in a creepy way, just wanna know who I'm talking to*
Turtleboylaurens: Okayyy....

(A/n pretend he looks a bit younger and more feminine)
Turtleboylaurens: there ya go, it's bad I know but I am not a selfie guy. It's of me and my cousin.
Hammysandwich:damn John!Turtleboylaurens: what?
Hammysandwich: what!
Hammysandwich has deleted a message reading: damn John!
Turtleboylaurens: send one of you
Hammysandwich: Uggghhhh okay...

(A/n pretend he looks 18!)
Turtleboylaurens: you look nice...like in a nice personality way!

Wow John...really? I looked at the picture again, he was handsome, very handsome. His big brown eyes were open to get lost in, his hair looked silly and soft. He was gorgeous. John! Stop, what are you saying?!
Hammysandwich: thanks, I Gotta go, see ya later!
Read at 15:22

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(No more texting for this chapter!)
I opened the door to my house quietly, attempting to sneak in without being seen. Obviously, clumsy feet over here, decided to take a tumble after tripping over his own feet. Of course, as I fell pans and pots joined me, so much for not being heard. "Joan is that you?" My father asked as he sauntered into the room, drunk. "Father, it's John not Joan." He looked at me, confusion gracing his wasted face.
"What did you just say Joan?"
"My name is John, not Joan father." He chuckled and stumbled over to me.
"You're still going on about that ridiculous boy thing, Joan you're a girl, you've got all the bits. Dumbass." He muttered the last word but I still heard it clearly. Reluctantly, I nodded and started to walk to my room when he stopped me. "Joan, how about tomorrow you wear a nice dress that your mother gave you." That took me by surprise and I froze, silent. My father looked at me, waiting for an answer and I hastily snapped back ouof my trance.
"No, father." I muttered out and anger spread across his face.
"What do you mean?" He stomped over to me like a giant and stood uncomfortably close to me.
"I don't want to wear a dress tomorrow." The second I said that he lifted his hand and brought it down , violently, on my face. Tears started swelling in my eyes but I pushed them away after all proper boys don't cry. That's what Thomas Jefferson said to me the first time he beat me up. My father pulled me to his chest by my collar and then threw me at the wall. Another slap and the flood gates opened. Tears rolled uncontrollably down my face as I pleaded for my father to stop. "You will do what I say, Joan." He dragged out the word Joan, just to make me cringe.

I woke up much earlier than my father to escape his dream of me wearing a dress. I wasn't going to wear a dress.
Creeping though the house, I took my testosterone pills and put on my binder. My good friend Lafayette helped me get it, of course my father doesn't even know I have one. Lafayette is the best, he does the nicest things for me. The binder makes me feel so much more comfortable, without Laf helping me get it I would have to resort to wrapping bandages around my breasts, I spent two months doing that lets just say it wasn't the nicest experience.
I slipped into some clothes and jumped out of my bedroom window. My fathers snores were still clear. Everything was still hurting from the previous night, everything. I don't know why it bothered me so much, it wasn't exactly the first time he beat me. It was however the worst he's ever done, the previous times were usually just a few slaps when he was extremely drunk, I don't think he even remembers doing it. This was different, my own father, my own flesh and blood hates me, simply for being me. My father hates me.
I hid away in my local Starbucks whilst I waited for my first class. The door to the shop slammed open and I looked up to see Hercules and Lafayette dancing. "Hey John!" Hercules screamed, bringing everyone in the shops attention to me. I waved them over and we sat in silence for a couple of minutes.
"Mon ami, are you good?" Laf asked, I could hear a pang of worry in his voice. "Yeah of course, why'd you ask?" Hercules' smiled faded to a frown and he eyed up his boyfriend Laf. "Your face John," Lafayette replied and I curiously put a hand to my face. As my fingers  touched my cheek, a shot of pain flew through me. I wanted to leave the house so badly this morning that I forgot about all the bruises on my face.
"Was it your father again?" Herc asked, looking bewildered. I gasped and hastily shook my head "no! No! I just slipped over." Clearly I was a terrible liar as Lafayette muttered "that bastard, I wanna kill him."
"Why'd he do it this time?" Herc questioned and I gulped. "He was drunk and he tried to make me wear a dress." Lafayette shook his head sympathetically and Herc placed a hand on my shoulder.