Not what I appear

Ch. 1

I am writing this as a trans boy who has been out for almost a year now. I am just trying to vent out some of my emotions in this story. I am trying to convey how i feel through my characters, so all of the mental illness descriptions are just how they make me feel. I hope this story makes you get attached to the characters as i hope i will be. Practically this whole book is a MAJOR Trigger warning!!!!! You have been warned!

Lycus POV:

Worthless.

Disgusting.

Tainted.

Unwanted.

Female.

I chanted in my head as he pounded into me relentlessly for the twentieth agonizing minute. It was fine I am used to it. Sex isn't supposed to be pleasurable, its supposed to be degrading, and painful. This was the only way I have seen it. Others talk about it as though it is invigorating, and could make you see stars, however for me it was the opposite. It made me feel awful, and nauseous.

I am thankful his dick wasn't big because at least i won't be bloody after this encounter. Another shift at Moonshine over, and another rando to enact my punishment. "Uh, Ugh!..." The nameless faceless shrimp-dick exclaimed as he emptied his load inside me. He flopped off to the side still reeling from his climax. I had to get home. I got up, and put fifty flourence onto the table to pay for his breakfast, but i was leaving this nasty three star hotel.

I left a note, and told him to use the money i set on the table for his breakfast and to pay a half of the room. I made my way home in my small car. Nothing special just a twenty thirteen, steel grey Prius. I pull into the three story apartment complex. I go up the two flights of cracked steep stairs, and open the door to my tiny studio apartment. My twin sized bed couldn't look more inviting even if it tried. Alas i needed a shower first.

I walked into the tiny cubical bathroom, and stripped of my work slacks, and black dress shirt, and stared at my body in the mirror. My Snow White hair that generally was slung in my face, and fluffy, was slicked back with gel, and my bluish purple eyes shimmered in the dim lighting. My eyes lowered to the scars just south of my pecs, and I frowned. I hated them. I hated myself. My eyes lingered on my feminine figure, the curve of my sides, and not to mention my lack of lower appendage. My eyes started to do that thing where they water when i feel insecure, and i hated it even more.

SMASH

I punched the mirror as hard as possible. My knuckles were coated in a new sheen of blood, and there were shards of reflective material littering the floor of the bathroom. I hate this. I hate living. I started the shower, and put it on the hottest setting it would go. For a werewolf i was cold all the time. The lack of eating was probably to blame, but what was the point in it? It was tedious, and made me feel sick. It made me gain weight, and to be honest i had grown addicted to the dull ache that hunger brought. I stepped into the hellfire-like water the contact causing me to groan from the searing flesh it dripped down. I then grabbed the razor blade i kept on the soap tray.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

My favorite number. I watched as the blood seeped from the new openings i had created. My skin was an angry pink, and now crimson covered my shower floor. I used my fingers to flush my insides of the invasive fluids from the guy before. I watched the putrid substance, and blood flow away with my tears, and screams for my soul, for my mate, and for my future.

Why do i continue living? Because i know my mom would be devastated. Not that she cares much whether or not i am around, however she would use my death as an excuse to make people console her, and she honestly doesn't deserve the attention. She has treated me as her mini me since i was a little boy, and she tried so hard to turn me into her, but no matter how many times she said she was proud of me i could see through the façade. She hated that i was embracing myself, and eventually even admitted it. She is so supportive until it's her own child afflicted by the LGBT disease.

Why would my mate ever want me? I am disgusting, used, worthless, a worm unworthy of another half. The water turned ice cold, and eventually my eyes ran dry of tears. Time to get some sleep. Sleep, the only thing i am good at. Aside from playing the piano, and freezing the crap out anything near me when I got pissed. I left the bathroom with my newly healed hand, and cuts i refused to let heal. I always put silver infused cream over them so that they wouldn't. The cream was intended for werewolves after they got tattoos so the tattoos wouldn't heal, and disappear. I didn't want the cuts to heal and not leave a scar... They were a reminder of my ability to be wounded. My ability to heal immediately like a damn monster just aided my mental turmoil. I hated being a werewolf. It made pain increasingly less than what it could be. I flopped down on my bed, deciding to clean the mirror shards tomorrow before work, and allowed darkness to overtake me into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Thank you so much for reading i hope you enjoyed, even though it was short, and super depressing. It will get better just stick with it.