| Randall, River; 18, They/them/theirs. Waitress. | |
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| Topic Started: 27 Sep 2015, 09:18 PM (108 Views) | |
| River Randall | 27 Sep 2015, 09:18 PM Post #1 |
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[stamp]RIVER RANDALL, 18. THEY/THEM/THEIRS. WAITRESS.[/stamp]![]() [post][warn]TW: ALCOHOLISM, SUICIDAL TENDENCIES AND TRANSPHOBIA[/warn]They find the adoption papers when they’re 12, carefully folded in half, and tucked away in an accordion file also containing their birth certificate and passport. There should be some sort of reaction. That’s what they reason. “Should be” being the operative words. Maybe there should be music. Maybe things should fly, the air should go still, or their mother should walk in on them, small childhood hands clutching the unfolded papers, but this isn’t the movies, and this isn’t a fairytale, and their mother will be at work for another 3 hours. So they fold the papers back up, and they put them back in the folder. They take out their passport, and they go back upstairs. A bird chirps outside. Nothing happens. At 12 years old, they make their first attempt to run away from home. Something heavy settles in their gut, claws at their skin. By the third time they try to run away, there’s no fire in their eyes when the policeman brings them home. At 14 years old, they take their first drink of red wine. It’s bitter to the extreme, and they suck on their teeth as they swallow down mouthfuls. It has the desired effect, and the world fogs over, and then they forget. It’s not as if their parents don’t care, it’s just that they see what they want to see, and what they want to see is a healthy, happy teenage girl. So, River stinks of grapes, and loses days at a time, and no one says a word. At 18, while driving to their shitty job at a shitty diner in the shitty part of town, they find a flyer for a small house for sale. [/post] |
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