But I'm a Guitarist!

Gerard.

Gerard Way.

Gerard freaking Way.

I couldn’t help but think about him and the way his dark hair fell in front of his sparkling eyes. How beautiful his innocent face was-WAIT!

I’m not fucking gay! I can’t be! This is just some sick idea they came up with to make me think that I am.

“Eric, you’re excused from class, you can show Frank here around,” she addressed the blonde haired boy. “He’ll be staying with you in your room.”

Oh great, roommates.

I followed Eric out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the elevator. He goes on explaining how long the ‘program’ is (four months, ugh) and the daily schedule (rise and shine 7, ugh.).

“3rd floor is mostly classrooms and teacher offices,” he explains as we go past the elevator and towards a set of stairs. I looked at him confused, “Students aren’t allowed to use the elevator without an adult. I’ll show you to our room first.”

We go down one flight of stairs and enter through the doorway; Floor 2 was clearly marked on the wall. The hallway split into two, one was marked ‘Boys’ in blue and the other side was marked ‘Girls’ in pink.

“Although they encourage straightness boys aren’t allowed in the girls room… or even their hallway,” we kept walking. We took a left and passed by rooms that had no doors on them, just doorways. About 5 doors down we stopped at what I assumed was our room. In the room there were two beds, perfectly made. Two dressers sat opposite of them and one closet. On top of what I assumed was my bed, laid my backpack, a suitcase, and a suit identical to the one that everyone else was wearing.

“You’ll probably want to get dressed, they’re very sketchy when it comes to clothes” he said. “I usually just use the closet, has no door but at least no one walking in the hallway can see.”

I gather my clothes and go to the closet while Eric sits on his bed and picks on his nails while he waits. I strip down and fold my clothes up, taking one last look at my pink belt. I have a feeling I won’t be seeing it for a while. The clothes fit fine except for the pants. It’s probably just because I’m so short, though. I put my shoes back on and noticed there was still an inch and a half that dragged on the ground. Oh well, at least my mother won’t be here to harp on me about it.

I walked back out of the closet and Eric looked at me and stifled a laugh as if he was sharing an inside joke with someone.

“Your dresser is that one,” he said pointing to the dresser closest to my bed. I started putting my things away. When I got to my unicorn I panicked, what do I do? I look around and Eric was still sitting on his bed, watching happily. Would he tell anyone?

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “They don’t search your things unless you give them a reason to.”

I saw that as a sign that he wasn’t going to tell anyone so slide my unicorn and carton of cigarettes into my 2nd drawer, to the back, under my clothes.

“Surprisingly, they don’t mind if you smoke, as long as you keep it outside,” Eric seemed to get back into being my ‘Guide’. “We have school classes until 1, and then after that we have an hour break, mostly supervised, especially for the first month or so. Then at 2 we have ‘gender re-assignment’.”

Gender re-assignment?

“Umm, I know I’m not a girl,” I told him, finishing putting my jeans away and my shoes under my bed.

“It’s mostly doing guy stuff,” he said. “Or rather what they classify as “guy stuff”.” He used air quotes.

I kind of had to laugh, the guy sitting in front of me? His legs were crossed like a girl, he looks like the type that would spend hours in the bathroom doing his hair, his clothes are neatly ironed, and here he is saying that he’s going to do guy things like paint ball, playing foot ball, and hunting? I don’t believe it.

“It’s not going to be real hunting is there?” I ask after he finishes telling me about the wonderful things that being a guy entitles us to. By this time we were walking back to the staircase.

“No, I think it’s just Mr. Steve running around as we try and shoot fake rabbit fur on a stick with a BB Gun,” he said. Oh, well that might be fun. We made our way to Floor 1 and came into what looked like the waiting room of a hospital.

“This,” he gestured to the area in front of us, “is the visiting room. Family doesn’t usually visit because we have family therapy on weekends anyways, so usually it’s just the gender confused hanging here.”

“This place is really big ,” I concluded as we continued on our tour.

“It’s because there’s no other institution like it on the east coast,” he told me. “It’s actually a lot bigger. On the other side of the building, that’s where the really nasty stuff happens, it’s for the adults, over the age of 18.”

I wonder who the hell would be crazy enough to check themselves in. Eric seemed to read my thoughts as we headed towards the cafeteria. “Most of them understand they’re gay, but they don’t want to be. They believe that maybe they can come here and they’ll make them straight. That they’ll make him want to want a woman sometime in life, have a family with her, do the dirty 5 times a week.”

I was confused, “Isn’t that the same as what they’re doing to us?”

“Yes and no,” he said, walking us back toward the visiting room and out to a small courtyard. “The tactics they use are more severe. They pretty much sign their life away, let them do anything to their body and their mind, as long as they come out liking boobs and vagina.”

I was still confused. “Well, one of the rumors are that they attach a shocking device to you and they make you watch a guy with another guy and every time you get uh, happy they’d shock you so that you learn that it’s bad.”

I just kind of stared at him then I pulled out a cigarette, lit it, sucked in the toxins and looked back at him, “that’s fucking sick.”

“Yeah, well some people will do anything for that acceptance, and some just don’t want to pretend.” I had a feeling it was hitting a little close to home.