WILD WEST OF THE HEART

F O U R

Dr Jonas Frisen found out something a little while back, something Obi only recently learned of. That each cell in your body is replaced by a new cell every seven to ten years.

That could mean during that span, we become essentially new people. Our bodies renew themselves, and though there might be some more underlying science behind that, it meant hope to Obi. To people like him, and Fiyin—

—whose dreams were still haunted by that man in the car, two years back. If the myth was true, and if you actually become a new person every seven years, does that mean in due time, she would no longer recognize his lingering touch. Or that smell of burning cigarette from his lips. It meant hope.

Especially to Obi, who's always sort of hated his body his entire life. It's a beautiful idea, the cell stuff, but behind that hope, was the daunting reality—

—the question, if it actually happened that way?

But right now, he had bigger problems than the science, everything felt tumultuous on the eve of his eighteenth birthday.

Obi.

As he sat there, he couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror. He was shirtless, with a tank top laid across his bed, next to a syringe full of estrogen.

Hormones. Alot of thoughts flashed through his mind as he looked down on it. He'd realized he hadn't taken them since he heard of Jazzlyn's fate.

Neither had he been on his testosterone blockers.

He felt his hands quiver on his naked knees, below his boxers as he heaved a deep sigh. It could explain his mood changes the past few days, especially to Ola. There were more questions that haunted his mind on hearing of Jazzlyn—

—and he soon realized, that he was just like her.

And what he saw, reminded him what the world thought of people like him. What the world did to people like them. And the horrid repercussions.

And that, incited fear in his mind each time he stared at the needle or the bottle of pills.

It was why he couldn't look himself in the mirror, because he could feel the dysphoria treading back slowly into the back of his mind—

—i did say, Obi never gave his identity nor sexuality a thought for many years. Up until a year and a half ago, i mean he always hated his body.

The way he looked, the effeminate way he talked.

The way he walked, and the bullies didn't really help much. What he always thought was just body dysmorphia actually turned out to be more than just that. Something relating more to his gender.

His identity.

And it was only a conversation he had with two people, with Mira, and Jazzlyn.

Of course Mira did understand much, and her support was overwhelming. She was a drag queen, in the club she owned just below them.

The classic he/him by day, and she/her by night.

She had accustomed herself to that, to the way things had to be in places like this. So she might have been able to relate just a little.

It was a conversation they had when Obi clocked sixteen. He didn't just hate his body, he soon realized. He hated everything about him.

Hated that he was a boy. And it was then he slumped in the depths of depression. Choosing not to talk to anyone, Obi found himself in a dark place.

That dark place, he's slowly spiraling into once again. And then there was a stiff knock on his wooden door, the strobing lights of his LED flashing by the corner of his eyes. "What?" He said.