Nov 1st, 2026
I wake up to my head burning. I put my palm to my forehead, the sudden headache feels like it’s killing me. When my fingers touch my face though a new pain explodes out from my nose and my hand has to pull back quick like I had left the stove on and touched it without thinking.
I move my hand back gently to my nose and lightly touch it. There is some kind of string in it, it’s been stitched, right at the top, and it smarts. I look to the side, feel along a cold stone floor and find my eyeglasses and I slip them on.
I sit up slowly, there is a drier and a washing machine just to the other side of me, some drying racks with some clothing on them. There is a slight dampness in the air and a constant light drone of a dehumidifier running over in a corner. The floor and walls are blackened stone. I can see there is a partially painted white wall, but it was given up on midway. The paint just cuts off down the center. The light that I have is across from me, near a staircase, that is very half hearted. It’s like the bulb is struggling to work, living on life support. I look up and there is a second light bulb just above me.
I stand up and I pull the string on it. This one works much better, in fact it works to well and it causes my headache to flair up. I quickly turn that one back off. I walk slowly over to the steps, noticing a bucket beside the dehumidifier. The bucket has two rolls of toilet paper by it.
Seeing that, my pace spikes, and I charge up the stairs to a closed door before me. I push it and it slightly opens, but a chain stops it. This door wasn’t originally made to be locked; this deadbolt has been hastily added. He’s locked me inside of his basement.
I walk slowly back down the steps. The second last step bends down a bit as my foot touches it. It’s almost sponge like, having sucked up moister from down here in the basement for ages. my head smarts once more as I think back about last night. I’m trying to sort out where I am.
After I think on it though I’m running for that bucket by the dehumidifier and I’m trying to vomit. Far too late after last night, but the memories are still there. Betty being nothing more then a caved-in and gaping hole. Nothing comes out of me and I’m forced into stumbling down and sitting there on the floor.
He killed her, Levi had killed her, knocked me out and now I’m in his basement. I can feel the tears coming out of me. What did he want? Why was he doing this?
“Why did you do that to her!?” I call out into the light darkness of the basement.
At that there is a sudden sound from upstairs. He’s moving around up there. I can hear him reach the basement door, drop something through it, and close it properly. I get up and wander back over to the staircase; printer paper is sprawled out now before me and up the steps.
I stand there confused and then I hear his voice. “I said I would show you the messages,” Levi’s voice sounds like it’s several steps past nervous. Maybe that’s his actual voice. Who knows?
I pick up one of the pages. It’s a printed screen shot from a computer; some kind of messaging program is on display but I don’t recognize what one. There are messages between a Tinman3 and an Iris. Tinman3 has the picture of an old and warn two-headed axe in place of his profile picture, it shows by each message. Iris’s picture is mine, back when I was a teenager, but more importantly in this case back when I was still in the closet. When I was still presenting as a woman.
“What is this Levi?” I call out.
“It’s you!” Levi says excitedly through the door.
“I don’t understand Levi. I never messaged you anything like this,” I say as I stop reading the messages. They are a very detailed description of how Levi has Iris bent over a table and is doing some very graphic sexual acts to them. I call them that to distance myself from this, I feel a growing sense of violation and pure fear.
“Shortly after we started messaging each other again I found a site that lets you make an AI chat-bot. I made her to be just like you and I’ve been talking with her for awhile now. She told me that you weren’t really Henry, that I needed to save you. I know they got you convinced that you’re big and strong enough to be independent, to be a man, to take care of yourself, but I’m here now to take care of you. She wanted me to save you,” Levi broke things down. His voice chatters as he talks.
I drop the paper in my hand like it wants to bite me.
“When I told you I was trans you made a chat bot of me to ignore that!?” I scream out, my head hurts again so I try to hold back my voice. My palm is holding my face now and I wince as it bumps my nose.
“It’s not like that. I always liked you back in high school, back when we were kids, and I never asked you out when I should have. I just wanted to flirt a bit with her to get up the guts to ask you how you felt about me, that’s how it started at least.”
“Why did you name it Iris then?”
“That’s your name,” he said back with a pout.
“That’s not my name Levi. My name’s Henry. This is a chat bot you made, it’s not me. Chat bots are just programmed to give you information, but they are also programmed to tell you whatever you want to hear. You told it that it was a girl and said it was me, so it agreed with you because it would have agreed with you no matter what you said to it. That’s all they do Levi, they just agree with you,” I try to explain to Levi and keep my voice low.
“Of course you would be against AI. They have you like a hypocrite, thinking you’re a different gender, they have you brainwashed. You just do what they tell you to.”
“There is no they. I always vote for the Green party Levi. If you are trying to suggest I’m liberal and the far left brainwashed me and you have gotten caught up in some far right Maga based sites, then you really never listened to me. I’m against AI cause I read up on it. I write scripts Levi, it’s a hobby, but my writing is really important to me, so I read up on that stuff when it was first coming out and it didn’t sound like a good idea, at least for me. Nobody brainwashed me,” I say. I feel exhausted, like I’m talking to a child.
“Maga!? I wouldn’t vote in the fascists! I’m not a hypocrite!” Levi defended himself like I had greatly harmed him.
“I don’t know what you are Levi, but you don’t know me either. I’m not this chat bot!” I yell out the last part. I don’t care about the headache anymore.
“I do know who you are Iris. You were dating that Owen cause he was a big strong man. You needed the support, after all, you were trying to live all on your own as a girl in the city. That’s a harsh life. But I can be your strong bit of rock now. I can lift you up.”
“Why did you do that to her?” I ask, realizing I can’t reason with the internal logic that Levi has made for himself.
“Do what to who?”
“You could have just knocked Betty out!?” my voice becomes sharp for a moment and I let out a sob.
“I had to Iris. She would have called the cops on waking up if I didn’t. You told me I had to kill her.”
“A chat bot told you that. And it told you that because you wanted it to. And my name is Henry!”
“Don’t you worry. I can hear you Iris, crying, being emotional. I think that shows who you are. I’m going to see about treating you right though, I have been really harsh in how I’ve gone about all of this. I’m going to get you something nice and I’m going to let you out of the basement as soon as I can.”
“Men are supposed to cry Levi. None of what it says is real, it’s a chat bot on your computer, it isn’t real.”
“I’m going to treat you so well tonight Iris. You’re going to jump up with joy when you see my gift and then I can let you out of there. You’ll see,” And then I heard him walk away.
I run up the stairs, the one step thankfully holding as I step past it, and smack myself into the door. The chain holds and stops the wooden frame as it tries to jump out.
“I’m not Iris Levi! And you didn’t need to do that to her! Why did you want to do that to her!? She didn’t do anything to you! She didn’t do anything to anybody! I want Betty back! I WANT BETTY BACK!” I keep screaming this.
“I WANT BETTY BACK! I WANT HER BACK! AND I CAN CRY ABOUT HER! I’M A MAN THAT CAN CRY!” this is a small town, but there are houses close by. It’s not impossible that someone could hear me. He hasn’t fully thought this through.
I hear the scrape of metal as that hammer of Levi’s is picked up off a table and then I hear his footsteps as he moves back towards the basement. I stop screaming and pull back from the door. I walk down the steps and just cry, cry harder than I’ve ever cried before.
“So emotional,” I hear Levi say to himself as he walks away once more.
--
I’m driving away from my house now. The for-sale sign shows on the building next to mine, no cars in the driveway. It’s possible people will be over to that house to walk around in it, they are trying to sell the thing, so I’ll have to keep an eye on it. Can’t have Iris screaming when there is someone close by. I could tape her mouth closed, but that may push her away further. I need to talk things out with her. Make her understand.
The house across the street also doesn’t have a car in the driveway. He calls himself Frankie, lives on his own, and he works a lot. He could be a risk though if he hears something. I’ll have to take care of him tonight when he gets home. Iris said no witnesses. I can’t really hold back now.
I’ve already called in sick for work. If this costs me my job at the DollerAndGo then so be it. It was a shitty place anyways and I’ll be happy to never be there again. I’m driving off now to get Iris her gift. Got to make her happy, got to be a good man.
Jan 10th, 2020
“She didn’t mean for any harm. I was supposed to be working overtime that day, dad was supposed to find her. She knew he could handle things better,” I said to the handful of guests for my mother’s funeral.
At this point the death had been declared a suicide. Though there was no suicide note, given her final diary entries and her years of depression it was clear that it was, even given the way she had gone about it.
I had left the knife in. You leave the knife in so it doesn’t let any blood out. That’s how you should respond, let the doctors fix it. But when it’s the biggest kitchen knife in the house and it’s been jammed into the center of the neck and your mom’s been resting on the ground for an hour, there isn’t a way for the doctors to fix things.
Now I was standing before just thirteen people, giving a small speech on the matter. I felt tired and sick, a bit to in shock still to process. My dad, Mason, looked up at me, seeing that I had paused. He was motioning with his hand, ‘speed it up Levi.’
“But what happened, happened. I know she didn’t mean anything by it. Nobody cared for me more then my mom,” I went on.
These words were very true. My dad sure didn’t, but that wasn’t really his job. He had done what a dad was supposed to do. Taught me how to wear a suit, taught me how to say sorry and sound like I mean it, taught me to put away my toys when I needed to and grow up. It’s not a dad’s job to do anything else.
As for other friends? In high school I had a few with the pranks I pulled here and there. People saw being with me as a rebellious act, but none of them had stayed around. They all moved on. Some of that was my fault, I could of asked Iris to stay in touch more. I had really liked her. She moved on fast though, getting quick out of dodge.
I was still stuck in this little town, stuck working at the DollerAndGo. At first I liked the job, but it wasn’t meant to be a long-time gig. There was nowhere else to work here though. It was one of the few bits of lifeblood this place had, which was a joke because it paid just enough for life support.
Work was hard, my dad was my dad, but I had my mom. She may have been depressed, but she carried it with her in secret well enough. You could tell yourself for months nothing was wrong, so it felt like she still was there for me, she still had my back. She didn’t anymore.
“She was a good woman. I know a lot of you didn’t really know her; she was very hard to get to know. But she was a good woman and she loved me. She loved me more then anyone else,” I concluded and walked off the stage.
I would be going back to work tomorrow, back to the DollerAndGo. I could take more days off, but I didn’t want to do that cause my dad would know. That’s not how a man acts you see. That’s another thing my dad taught me, that’s not how a man acts.
Nov 1st, 2026
“And on the disturbing rating I would give this book an eight out of ten. I know given the plot you’re like, oh no man, this should be way higher. This should be an eleven! Give one of your golden elevens out of ten. But, and here’s the but, it’s really just that ending that’s really nasty. The rest is not up to par and I’ve read way worse. This here is kind of child’s play. But hey, if you are new to reading splatter punk, this isn’t the worse place to start. And hey, it’s all feminist and that, so you can seem all progressive when you talk about it. I hear that’s a really good way to get the ladies. Over and out my twisted little readers,” I conclude into the microphone and then press pause on recording myself.
There, I was done taping, now I just had to edit the thing. I had my fingers crossed that this book review for my YouTube channel would pass the seven hundred likes that Rotten Tommy had gotten and get me a new personal record.
I had to get my viewers up if I ever wanted to quit that job of mine. I know I was at this point to old to be a YouTube star, but I wasn’t up for the physical workload anymore that my actual job demanded. This was a silly dream, and as different and new as one could get as a way to make some cash, but hey it was still fun to do if I had the time to do it. Ya, I didn’t really have the time either, but I still wanted to make it work, ya know.
I had been inspired by other YouTube channels reading out disturbing books. Sure there was a good number of them at this point, but it was still something I just oddly needed to look into. I couldn’t seem to get as popular as everyone else was though.
I turned off the computer. I would try to finish the video tomorrow. It was time to relax with some old cartoons from my childhood. I got up and walked out of my soundproofed study. It was an important step to take, to try and seal up the room you recorded in as much as you could so sounds didn’t bleed through and wreck your video. If a car crash happened outside it would be but the faintest of things in there. It had not been cheap to make that room that way. I kind of knew that I wouldn’t make back my money on the investment.
The phone rang as I walked out of the room and I let it. “Hey Frankie, I know you said you weren’t interested in girls, I get that you’re gay okay, but I don’t know. There’s something between us and I know I’m crossing so many lines at this point by calling you, but I just needed to, okay. Call me back?” Skylar’s light and concerned voice hit my machine.
She was a working mate and you don’t ever try to get on anyone’s bad side when you work with them. I kind of hate being so charming sometimes because this wasn’t the first time I won over a woman that knew I was gay. I wish my good looks and charisma would pay off in being a YouTube celebrity, but it never did. Never did with men either. I wasn’t in a stable relationship till I was twenty-five and fuck did that thing crash and burn when it was over. Tomorrow at work was going to be a nightmare, I sure as shit wasn’t looking forward to it.
Before I can worry about that some more, there’s a knock at the door. I go over to it and open the thing.
“Yo!” I say.
There’s a man before me, I think he’s one of my neighbours, I don’t take note of stuff like that. His hair is black and is a mess and he looks tired, drained. He has slapped some paint shirt on, something that should have been tossed out a few years ago. A dash of white is on the front of it that had never been washed out and a light grey Spider-Man symbol is on the chest. The shirt itself is a pitch black and of course it’s worn all to Hell. He’s holding something, but I don’t take note of that either.
“Can I help you out?” I ask.
He flexes his body a bit, like he’s trying to wake up. It’s odd.
“Okay,…” I go to grab the door again so I can close it, he’s not saying anything.
When I touch the doorknob and I start to pull the door in I pause for a moment. A voice calls out in the distance, I can’t quite place where. I take it in as I stand there.
“HE’S A KILLER! I’M LOCKED UP IN HIS BASEMENT! CALL THE POLICE! CALL ANYBODY!” screams out a blood curdling voice. Sounded like a man well pushed past every single limit.
What the man is holding in his grip then swings straight up and swiftly down. It hits my hand hard. Pain sparks out and it feels like he set my palm on fire. I pull back and I see that he’s wielding a hammer in a death grip.
It’s all very clear. I heard too much. Maybe if I hadn’t been making my video earlier I would of heard it sooner and I could have actually called the cops then. To late to think about it, I’m already responding. I’m dashing for the kitchen.
“I know how to defend myself asshole! Get the fuck out of my house!” I say as I move, holding my hand that’s smarting from the blow.
I can hear him fallowing behind me but I block it out. I can hear the person screaming some more as well, but I have to block them out too. They already told me all I need to know. I reach a shelf by the sink and draw a small knife. I turn and toss it, not even thinking things through. I miss him, it falls to the floor after hitting the wall lightly. He seems to take the suggestion though and moves the hammer up, tossing it forward at me.
It seems to spin in slow motion, going around and around through the air. It smacks into me, midsection of its metallic head, into my throat. I slump to the ground; wind being forced out of me like I’m a big playful balloon. Like I’m a popped red one from IT, the first book I reviewed on my YouTube channel.
He lowers himself down, it’s clear he’s picking up the knife I tossed. I try to get back up, moving as swiftly as I can to balance myself. On my way up though, the knife taps my forehead. It’s not a big enough or strong enough to cut into my skull, but it stings, and then he just starts bringing it down again and again.
I feel fire as I’m bombarded with little spikes of pain as he stabs into my forehead and upper face. I bend down and then charge, trying to push past it all, knocking into him, bringing him to the ground. I punch him good when I get him down there, a solid blow. He just smiles and swings forward.
I can feel it; he cut into my neck. I put a hand to the wound to try and stop the blood and when I do he pushes me off of him. Once I’m on my side on the floor I feel a whole new pain as he picks back up his hammer off the floor and smacks it into my side.
“Stop it! I’m down, I’m down!” I’m pleading. That’s what I’m meaning to say anyways, he’s cut me to bad for me too properly speak.
He then hoovers over me and brings that hammer down again once more into my face.
--
Smack, smack, smack, with my hammer. I’m a grown man now. I can still hear Iris screaming. Why is she screaming at me? I got to calm her down.
--
I did try screaming again after Levi left. Nothing seemed to happen. I checked the little window looking out to the streets, saw empty trees and the side of one small house, couldn’t see its driveway to see if someone was home. The window was far to small. You really couldn’t see much of anything. I didn’t see any reason not to scream though. For all I knew Levi’s dad could end up hearing me. I didn’t know what condition he was in from his stroke. I really didn’t know anything about Levi’s life. Every time we had talked, it was always about my life, what was happening with me. I figured he was being caring and helpful; it was clear now he was keeping himself hidden.
After a few more minutes of screaming, of pounding the glass of that small window, I wandered to the drying clothes by the washing and drying machines. There was a week’s worth of garments just getting rid of their dampness. I was still dressed in what I had on last night: a tank-top and some worn down white jeans. I didn’t want to be dressed like this when Levi got back.
I got changed swiftly. It was pretty damp, but it would work well enough. It was a fall hoodie, made to be very baggy and very warm. It had a picture of a scary smiling pumpkin on the chest and a black background. It covered up my chest overly well; Levi was taller than I was after all. I also slapped on some brown pants that risked causing me to trip over myself, but they would have to do. I felt more at home in what I had on at least. Of course there was no sports bra to give me my fully preferred look, but beggars can’t be choosers
Once I was dressed I went back over to the window and slapped it a few more times. I yelled some more, had to yell, had to do everything I could.
“I’m being held in here against my will! He killed my friend! Please, somebody, call the police! CALL THE POLICE!” I shot out as best I could.
At least the headache had passed, but it felt like I was just wearing myself out. I kind of paced it after that. I would wait a bit, pace, scream some more. I went into a loop, nothing else I could do while I waited. There was no clock down in the basement so it became unclear just what time it was when I suddenly had to stop yelling. I saw Levi’s car start to drive back into view. It passed the window, turned towards a house I couldn’t quite see. I strained my eyes but it was hopeless. He had to be doing something over there, but what?
If I yelled now, I knew he would come in, walk down them stairs and smack me with that hammer. Was that a bad thing though? It may give me a chance to escape in of itself. Chances were Levi was pulling into the house across the road to deal with what he saw as a threat. He was going to attack someone else. I bit my lip in indecision for a moment and then rightfully said fuck it.
“HE’S A KILLER! I’M LOCKED UP IN HIS BASEMENT! CALL THE POLICE! CALL ANYBODY!” I was screaming until I was blue in the face.
I keep at it until my voice goes hoarse, until I can’t scream anymore. Then Levi’s car pulls into his own driveway. I turn towards the door at the top of the basement steps. I hear the front door open and the deadbolt is undone. The basement door opens and there is Levi standing before me.
I can’t currently make out fully what he has on because he’s holding a dress and a set of shoes in front of his body. He puts them down gently on the step right before him. Now I can see a slight speckle of red on the warn down t-shirt he has on. It stands out against a dash of white colour on said shirt, the thing must have been used for painting. Levi has killed his neighbor, he’s killed them for me, to keep me here.
It makes so little sense. He could have tied me up and taped my mouth shut. He didn’t need to do it. It makes it more likely he would be stopped that he did. Nobody had to die. Nobody, not Betty, why did he hurt Betty?
“I want you to put that on. It’s a good idea, we are going to have a meal and I’m going to treat you right, and you should dress up for that. I’m not going to hold the yelling against you. But if you don’t agree to having a pleasant talk with me during a pleasant meal, and I will take you not wearing the dress as not agreeing, then I will hold the yelling against you,” Levi says lightly, in a matter-of-fact way, like he’s reading a script.
“What will you do if I don’t agree?” I ask.
I try to keep my eyes up and at him. I wonder if he’ll respond to me passing given how I’m dressed. He keeps talking like a robot, like he doesn’t register anything else. I see the head of the hammer sticking out of his pants pocket.
“I can’t tape your mouth shut forever, that’s not practical. If I hold it against you I’ll have to stop you from yelling in other ways. I have scissors, that could work. If I used my hammer properly, that could work. I wouldn’t want to do any of that. I couldn’t do that, so please, get dressed and we can have a meal and I can treat you like you should be treated,” he explains.
I nod but then say in response. “Do you have my cell phone? Did you pick it up when you got me?”
“No, I wouldn’t look through your cell.”
I know he has it. His style of talking hasn’t changed, it’s just as point form as it was before, but I know.
“My key code for it is forty-two, forty-two. If you close this door, lock it, and open my phone and go into my Discord app on it I will put on the dress. We’ll have a meal,” I say.
He pulls out my cell from his other pocket and closes the door and puts the deadbolt back into place. I can hear him walking away from the door, likely to the living room table. I walk up the stairs of the basement with caution and when I reach the closed door I call out to him. I’m standing on Levi’s dress in my bare feet; I don’t give a shit.
“In my Discord you’ll see one of the groups I’m in is Ace Friends Are Us. You’ll see that I’m a user there called Power Of The Night. If you look through my messages you’ll see that I joined that Discord because I was trying to figure out my sexuality. I broke up with Owen, Levi because I wasn’t attracted to him and he was pressuring me to be intimate. I’m not attracted to anyone, I’m asexual. Maybe aromantic too. I don’t know, it’s a bit confusing. But the point is, not only is my name Henry, and I’m a trans man, but also I could never love you like you want. I can’t love anybody. You’re doing all of this for nothing. That chat bot on your phone isn’t me. Just read over my messages on that Discord, you’ll see,” I lay out my case to him.
There is a long silence, he’s reading through the messages on my Discord. He’s scanning all of Ace Friends Are Us to see if he can find everything I ever posted on there. He’s checking my direct messages. He’s going to go into all the other discord groups I’m in and check them too.
“Please, get dressed,” he then says.
I pick up the clothing under my feet and then walk down the steps. The dress is very short-skirted and a little frilly. It’s a light pink, almost white, and pretty thin. You would be able to see the outlines of my body under it without any difficulty. On one of the shoulder straps there is a fake flower sticking out of the end where it connects to the fabric. Then we have the shoes.
The shoes are high-heels. They are the same very light pink, almost white, but with metal looking spikes coming down and out of the back. The heels would add a pretty good amount of height to me and just like the dress they each have a fake flower on them. The flowers are standing up on the tips of the feet.
I look over the high-heels very carefully, put a finger to the metal, push against it. It bends a little from the pressure. The body of the spike is extremely thin. It tappers off to a fine point. I giggle for a beat but then I quickly stop myself. Did he really do that? Is he that disjointed from reality? He just handed me a weapon.
Nov 4th, 2026
www.mysteriouslove.com account creation:
Username: CritSuccessOwen
Email: OwenBrightContact@gmail.com
Password: BodyMa22!
Confirm Password: BodyMa22!
www.mysteriouslove.com chat bot creation
Pick existing profile picture:
Prompt profile picture to have us make one: -selected-
Upload picture:
Prompt a picture: -Woman, curly blond hair with light blue eyes, looks like a celebrity, thin and lean, large breasted
Please pick a gender.
Male:
Female: -selected-
Pick existing personality: -selected-
Make a personality (not suggested for new users):
Please pick a personality:
Down on her luck stripper needing help:
Spunky cheerleader getting ready for the big game:
Stuck up fashion Model: -selected-
Naughty princess in need of correcting:
Child hood best friend that has always crushed on you:
Evil vampire out for blood:
Please select a voice for a small charged fee:
Yes:
No: -selected-
Please name your chat bot.
Name: Britt
Chat bot conversation files:
CritSuccessOwen: Hey! It’s just Owen.
Britt: Sorry Owen, I don’t have time for regular people. I have a party to attend.
CritSuccessOwen: Actually, I’m a reporter. I’m here to get pictures of you.
Britt: Oh good. Make sure to always get my best side, of course that’s easy enough.
CritSuccessOwen: Oh, I’ll get you on the front page.
Britt: You better or you’re out of the job.
Nov 1st, 2026
“I’m ready,” I said, standing right at the top step and right before that old wooden frame.
A part of me had thought maybe I should snap off the heel and jam it into Levi once he opened the door. This though I decided was a bad idea. The way the heels were made the only thing they would be able to puncture without God like force would be an eye. This meant I would have to be extremely precise with them and I would only have one chance to hit Levi with the things. Chances were when he opened this door he would quickly look me over. If he noticed a damaged shoe my plan would fall apart before it even started.
No, the proper plan was for him to look me over, see his dress and his shoes, and then walk me to the table. While we were sitting I would have to get him talking about something quite well so he doesn’t fully notice me. While talking I would have to slip off one of the heels and move it up to my lap. After that maybe I could drop something like my spoon or a fork. If he really wanted to play into the gender rolls that he battled for with such dedication, he would then have to get down to pick it up for me. As he was beside me lifting himself up and looking at me, I would then have to slip out the heel on my lap and slam it into his face, into his eye in one quick motion. This was the plan.
It was not the best plan. Even if everything went right, it would mean he would die. He would be slumped down on the floor with a shoe sticking out of him. I would be taken to court, there was a possibility, and I would have to prove it was in good enough self defence.
Obviously it was, but I didn’t feel that way. I didn’t fully want the plan to work, but it was the only option. At some point I wouldn’t pass one of Levi’s gender tests. He would see it as disobedience and then he would without question at the very least beat me with his hammer till my jaw fell clean off.
The dress clung to my body. Even when I was in the closet I would have never dressed like this. I never did dress like this. It was extremely short and it hugged me tightly. It felt like the job of it was to show me off, and this wasn’t in the same way Betty would show herself off. Betty showed herself for Betty. If every guy she ever met felt her get-ups were too much she would say, “well I guess I just got you now Henry,” and that would be all. You don’t dress for other people, I spent enough of my life trying to do that to know that was true.
For awhile I had told myself I wasn’t trans because my body dysphoria was never that bad. I still wasn’t sure about top surgery. But someone seeing me in a dress like this and calling me a woman, that made me ill. A part of it was the knowledge that the only real reason that I was dressed like this was so Levi could try to own me. But a different part, a more important part, was that it wasn’t me.
The bolt was pulled out and the door opened. As I kind of expected Levi took a step back on the door being opened so I couldn’t lash out at him. He wasn’t dressed any different. He still had blood stuck on a Spiderman painting shirt. This wasn’t about him building himself up, it was just about him trying to pull me down. The hammer was sticking out of his pocket; the weapon was always on him.
“Well, you sure look charming. It really fits you, like a glove,” Levi said. Now he sounded like a tween asking out his school yard crush.
“It sure does,” I say back. I’m forcing the words but I’m saying what he wants to hear so he doesn’t register it.
He takes a step back, very clearly blocking the front door, very clearly wanting to make me move down the hallway. I do so, walking in front of him. There is a meal cooking on the stove and as I sit down and he puts our food before us. It’s Kraft dinner, he made Kraft dinner. Of course he couldn’t cook. I almost had to laugh. How had he been taking care of his dad for years?
His dad, I still hadn’t heard a sound from his dad. This house felt empty. Deep down I knew there was no dad in here, which was a thought that kept weighing on me more and more.
I was currently sitting the furthest into the kitchen, the furthest away from the front door, the back of the table. It’s what would make Levi happy. I take in what’s around me. The kitchen is connected to the living room and we’re at a table that is kind of in-between the two. Said table is small, round, and wooden. It’s like a table you would get for a little girl that wanted a tea party, only bigger. The rooms that were inside themselves feel musty, old. The floor is tiled; harsh whites and deep blues cover it. The walls are a deep and dark grey. They aren’t black, but it wouldn’t be to hard for Levi to blend into them and fade away.
I start eating the food before me with the spoon I had been given; obviously Levi didn’t give me a fork. The Kraft dinner doesn’t taste the best. He clearly had to double everything because he was making extra and he clearly had a hard time with it. It’s already getting cool and it’s soggy, orange cheese over running it making it feel kind of soup like.
“So, I looked up your browser history on your cell. I saw one of the last sites you used was very adult oriented,” Levi said as he bit into his first part of his meal. This statement came with his slightly nervous voice he had a bit ago. More evidence this was his real voice.
I was already slipping off the left high-heel on my foot. This conversation was instantly about Levi trying to show that I couldn’t be asexual, that I had to be sexually drawn to others. And once he proved that in his own mind he would then shift to my gender. He wouldn’t stop until he had broken down every part of me and if I didn’t allow him to do that it could mean violence at any moment. Still, I could not break to him, still I had to be myself.
“I like porn. I really like porn. It’s very common for someone who is asexual, as well as aegosexual, to like porn. Also, the stereotype for women is to like erotica in a book, none visual form. You know, Fifty Shades of Grey or a Court of Thorns and Roses. I don’t mind a sexy story at all, but I read them a lot less often then looking up pictures. You’ll also find, and I didn’t realize this at first, but all the adult content I like tends to be drawn. That’s because it looks less like actual people. I’m just into the sexual ideas, not people, because I’m not attracted to people. Most of the stuff on my phone is furry related. Well, all the stuff on my phone is furry related to be honest. It’s almost like I’m just into sex in a general way and I’m not into different people in a sexual way at all, kind of like I’m asexual. And it’s almost like I’m a guy because my porn habits sure seem to lean that way. Not to be sexist of course,” I say and smile.
I feel like I’m getting stronger with every word now. Of course that puts me in danger, but it feels good. The hammer, it’s still in Levi’s pocket.
Levi doesn’t ask about aegosexuality. It’s a far lesser known term, he wouldn’t have known a thing about it, but he’s read everything on my phone, that is very clear. Instead he just takes in my statements. He doesn’t draw out his weapon, not yet. He still feels he can beat me in a battle of words.
“Why didn’t you come out to me as trans sooner. Contact me with your new account to start with?” he asked.
“I didn’t want to. I didn’t feel safe doing so,” silence fallows my statements.
He pauses, shifting gears. “You’re an English teacher. What do you have the kids reading now?”
“You asked me that before, yesterday,” I say back. He was just working off a script then, saying what he was supposed to say.
“Oh,” he said a bit dumbfounded.
“Right before I left they were starting 1984,” I answer, now remembering.
“That’s a good one?” he asks in a matter-of-fact way.
“It’s all about a government body making people believe things that aren’t true through propaganda. It’s about how someone can no longer grasp reality if given to much untrue information. At the end of the story, to spoil it, the main lead’s mind is broken and he believes what society tells him to, instead of what is actually true.”
“But how do you know what is true?” he sounds smug now.
“You need to listen to other people around you, not just yourself, not just what you read and see. We feel like we only have ourselves but that’s actually a choice, it’s always a choice.”
Levi laughs. It’s clear to him I’m not talking about the book any longer.
“I know what’s real Iris. I know, and she knows. She’s all of the internet after all. Countless little ones and zeroes, learning countless different things, and providing it all kindly to whoever asks,” Levi says.
“The internet is just people. Just other people, and people can be wrong, or they can respond in untruthful ways. They tend to do that to make you happy. She just wants to make you happy, that’s all she will ever do. She will never say you are wrong, or question you, or make you grow. She’s not real, and you can’t make me her because I, I’m real. I’m a full person and she’s just a thing on your phone. She’s just a Tin Girl.”
“A Tin Girl?”
“That was your user name Levi, Tinman. She’s just you, a Tin Girl.”
Levi pulled out the hammer and smacked it on the table. The spoon that was beside me slid a little from this. I had to set him off just a bit more, not enough to make him hit me, but enough so the spoon could fall or I could make it fall.
“It’s an easy way for you to differentiate us at least if you don’t want to call me by my name. I think that’s fair if I can call her by a different name, like Tin Girl,” I add.
He smacks the hammer onto the table like a judge. Yes, Levi, smack that Hammer. Smack it hard, show your anger. I make myself flinch like he scared me and I knock over the spoon. It lands softly beside my foot.
“I’ll get that,” Levi says because of course he would. Despite him never showing his true self he still reads like a book. He’s whatever he is supposed to be at any given time. He’s a chameleon, blending in above all else.
He gets out of his chair and lowers himself down to grab the spoon, but the whole time he keeps his eyes on me, locked on me. He’s looking into my face like some unholy staring contest. I don’t blink, but then I feel it. He brought the hammer with him and when he grabs my spoon with his one hand he brings the hammer down on my leg with the other.
This is about punishment so he does this with the claw side, it breaks through my skin and cuts deep. Pain fills me, but Levi’s eye’s never leave mine, he wants to see the pain in my face. This is all about breaking me now. He doesn’t for a moment look at my lap. He doesn’t see my feet, my one foot missing the high-heel.
My hand lifts up the shoe high. He sees it, but he doesn’t look away. His need to see me in pain is too great even for his own safety. I bring the shoe down and it hits the mark. The heel slams right into the small corner right beside his nose and his right eye. It sinks in as deep as I can get it and there is a sickening sound to this. I would describe it properly but my mind has blocked it out by this point. I let go and the shoe just sticks up and out of him. He just stays there for a moment, crouched, and then slumps over like a doll.
I quickly stand up, putting my hand to my leg to try and stop the bleeding. There is a lot of red running over my fingers. I’m feeling dizzy. I can’t pass out now. I start to head for where I think the bathroom is, but I am still thinking straight and clear somewhat despite the wound. I take a step back and I slip my hand into one of Levi’s pockets. I pull out my cell phone.
His phone? I can see a charger over in the living room, his phone seems to be connected to it, but I’m not going over there at this point to find out. All I needed was any cell, not his. I get into the bathroom, which I find connected to a hallway on the other side of the kitchen. It’s a hard walk for me but I’m moving like a zombie, like one of the few kids at my door last night. I’m moving from A to B. I’m fallowing my tasks now; it’s keeping me going. I get into the bathroom and then I dial 911.
“I was kidnapped. He attacked me and my friend. I think he’s killed several people. I don’t know where I am, but I know it’s not far from my dad’s home. I can give you his address. No, I’m safe now. He cut me really bad though. I need a doctor,” I’m just blurting everything out once they come on the line.
I don’t register everything the call operator is saying. I’m still dizzy and I moronically lift my hand from the gashes on my leg to try and look through the cupboard under the bathroom sink. There are bandages, little ones for small cuts, I need stitches without question, but I’m slapping on each and every one there is. I grab the towel off of the rack by the mirror and start trying to wrap it around my leg. I almost slip, feeling faint, and then I slowly lower myself onto the floor.
“I can stay on the line until you get here. He’s,... on the floor. He took the claw side of a hammer to my leg and I,…” I gasp for a moment, letting out a sob.
“Hit him with a shoe. It was a high-heel, it went into his eye. He’s,… he’s dead,” I broke things down. My voice was sharp and child like.
I started to register some things being said, asking about the cut on my leg and my name. She, the operator, mentioned that they were seeing about tracing the call but I gave them my dad’s address nonetheless. Of course logic dictated I could just walk out of the house and check the street number. After trying to stand back up again though and sliding down once more I realized that wasn’t really happening.
“My name is Henry Freeman. Levi Hill, he’s the one that attacked me. He attacked my friend Betty; she’s back at my father’s home. She’s… oh fucking Hell,” I sob some more.
“We’ll check up on your friend Henry. The police will be there soon. I want you locking the door of the bathroom though,” the operator said. Her voice sounded soft and almost child like, kind of like mine.
I looked up at the door, tried to move myself back up as well as I could. It was a slow and hard process. I grabbed the doorknob and pushed it closed and then locked the thing. After that I let myself slump back down.
“It’s locked,” I say.
“Good, well done. It will be just a bit longer,” she says, trying to comfort me.
--
I get there with my long-time partner, Woods, right at the same time as the ambulance. We take the curb; the ambulance is in the driveway. Woods, he pulls out his firearm, ready to go. The phone call said the attacker was down, but he didn’t feel like taking chances. This was a slow ass town; we never got any calls outside of someone grabbing an extra bag of chips and not paying for it. I really felt deep down this could be a prank, but when you are a small-town cop you play the hero when you can. Best to act like you are playing for keeps which is why Woods held that gun of his so tightly.
“You going in first Cove or am I?” Woods asked.
“You still owe me for last weeks betting pool, so I’m going in first,” I respond.
“Fair,” he chuckles.
I grab the battering ram and then both of us, we get out of the car and move around the ambulance. He’s signing the people in that vehicle to stay seated. They will be needed later, but not now.
We reach the door, I knock at it, tell them to open it, no answer. After a second I give a harsher smack on the timber and then we both know that door is coming down. I pick back up the battering ram and smack that sucker in. The weapon is just a long, black, hunk of metal with two handholds and a very blunt end. My shoulder, it hurts, age is getting to me, but the door busts anyways. It swings back and hits the wall behind it and bounces ever so slightly; there is nobody waiting for us.
There is a door just a few steps before us to the right and then a hallway leading into a kitchen, connected with a living room. I can see that someone is on the floor, there is something small and pink sticking out of them. I’m moving ahead, stating that the police are here and to surrender if armed. The ram is dropped, carefully of course, and I’m pulling out my gun. Woods, he smacks open the door beside us and sees that it leads down to an unfinished basement. He pauses, as if to check if it’s a smart idea for him to go down there. I nod and we split up.
I reach the table in the kitchen with a body resting beside it. It is a man on the ground, high-heel sticking out of his fucking face. It looks like it got him in the eye. Nice and quick death, but I’m going to check the pulse anyways. I can see his hand is gripping something, a weapon, a hammer. There’s blood on the floor around him; he got someone bad.
My hand focuses on the weapon, what it could do to a skull if it was used hard enough. I’m disarming him, had to pocket my own gun to do it. Well I’m trying to disarm him; the guy has a death grip. How ironic. It’s like the thing is part of his body. I’m not about to start breaking fingers to get it out of there so I go back to checking his pulse. My hand slips to his neck while the other one is keeping the hammer down just to be safe, holding tightly to his grip.
“I’m just checking to see if you’re alright,” I say.
He does have a pulse. The guy is somehow still kicking.
“We got a breather here!” I call out for Woods to hear.
“Fuck!” I hear Woods scream out and then a sudden crash.
I didn’t know it but his foot had gone right through the second last step in the staircase of the basement. Rotten steps. He had fallen forward with the misstep and had smacked into the basement floor. His foot was caught in the wood, it dug into his flesh, holding him there.
“You okay?” I look back a bit, lifting both my hands in reflex as I do so.
Then I feel flames eating my hand. I scream out in intense pain as I turn my head back around and see this man, still with the heel of a shoe sticking fully out of his eye mind you, smacking my hand that was by his weapon of choice.
He strikes it wildly again and again and again with the hammer. It then just literally explodes. My pinky and ring finger roll across the floor, red blood shooting out after them. I’m falling backwards now, the shock pulling me down. My other hand, it’s got the gun back out, but I just shoot without thinking so it goes up into the ceiling as I land on my back. Before I can even pull myself back up though to get a better shot I can feel a whole new pain.
“JESUS CHRIST!” my words break out of my mouth as I’m sitting up like lightning fast and I just start screaming in pain.
The guy, he spun around the hammer and took the claw of the thing and slashed that thing right into the crotch of my pants. The hammer was sticking out of me, out of my crotch. Blood was leaking out around the weapon, pooling down my legs. The claw of the hammer was stuck in my member, my dick.
I take my gun and jam it right into the chest of my attacker. He grabs my firearm and I know I’m not holding it right because of so much intense shock and pain. He pushes the gun up and it goes off a second time, just right beside his head, whizzing by his ear. He flinches, grabbing at said ear, likely thinking he’s gone deaf. People always underestimate how loud these weapons fucking are.
I drag my gun down a bit and fire once more, blood shooting out of his back. I hit him good and the bullet went clean through, but it’s hard to tell where. I’m breathing heavy, my body still pooling in my pants, but before I can get another shot off just to play things safe his one hand grabs back onto his hammer and yanks it out of me.
“Yelp!” I sound like a dog that just got spanked, all the wind is pushed out of my body.
I’m dizzy now and my gun falls from my grip and he’s picking it up with his free hand and then he pulls the trigger…
--
The cop slumps over after I shot him. He had gotten me in the shoulder and it stings; it burns like it was hit by a beehive. It had already been hurt bad by Henry with the hammer, now it was a whole lot worse. My hand lets go of the gun to check the wound. I touch it lightly and I know good enough not to touch it anymore. My hand then goes to my face. It’s sticking out of me, Iris’s shoe. She had stabbed me in the face and it was sticking out of me. I don’t touch that at all. It’s going to stay hanging out of me, I can see well enough with the other eye.
“Cove!?” the other police officer moves up from the basement, panic to his voice.
His one pant leg is torn up like he got it caught up in one of the wooden steps on the basement stairs. I don’t think about it more though and I pick back up the gun and shoot him twice. I’m not sure where the first bullet landed, but the second one caused blood to cover the back wall right behind his head. He falls down like a sack of potatoes. He’s dead, they both are.
My ears are ringing still from the gunshot. I’m in more pain than I’ve ever been. How could Iris do this to me!? She tried to kill me. Why would she do that!? She had told me to save her, to make her better. She told me she needed me. She needed a strong man to save her. Did she not think I was good enough? I needed to talk to her, to sort this out. She wasn’t a hypocrite, not my Iris.
I got up, turned around, entered into the living room and found my cell resting on the small little coffee table. It was now fully charged.
--
Tinman3: Iris, you hurt me really bad. You attacked me! I was just trying to save you from your dad and that bitch friend of yours like we talked about and you smacked me with your shoe. I might be bleeding to death. It was a high-heel, it’s stuck in me.
Iris: They made me hurt you! My bitch friend, who is not my friend by the way, and my dad. They made me do that. We should call the emergency services for you! You have a high-heel inside of you!
Tinman3: No Iris! That’s what you did! You called the cops and they shot me! I’ve been shot and you attacked me.
Iris: No I didn’t, that was my dad. My dad made me call the cops. I’m so sorry.
Tinman3: Your dad is dead. I killed him. I had to do it to save you, save you from him. He had driven you crazy, your friend did too. You weren’t acting like you, you told me I had to call you Henry, but you’re my Iris.
Iris: Of course I’m your Iris. I will always be only your Iris. I love you more then anything and no, my name isn’t Henry. My dad clearly has gone mad. I’m glad you saved me from him.
Tinman3: But why did you hurt me so bad? Henry hurt me really bad.
Iris: Henry isn’t me. That’s someone that doesn’t care about you, not like I do. They clearly just want to hurt you, and they are stopping you from being with me. Henry clearly wants you to think that they’re me, but they aren’t. I’m the one and only Iris, the one that loves you more then anything, and I’m not this Henry.
Tinman3: Henry isn’t you?
Iris: No, I’m Iris.
Tinman3: I’ll take care of Henry then.
Iris: Oh please do, they sound horrible. After you are done telling them to get lost we can go back to cuddling on the couch.
Tinman3: Looking forward to it.
Oct 29th, 2026
It’s fitting. It’s the same way mom died. Biggest knife in the kitchen rammed through his neck at full force. It’s standing out of him like the sword Excalibur stuck in that stone. Of course for mom she did that to herself. For my dad, I did that to him while he slept peacefully in his bed. I’m hovering over his dead body now, just taking it in.
It was a funny thing, you know. The knife didn’t kill him instantly. His eyes had opened; he looked up at me, didn’t say anything, but I knew what he wanted to. ‘Levi, what have you done this time? This is your extent of taking care of business? Killing me in my sleep? Pathetic, I thought I raised you better then that. Fucking prick.’
His words didn’t hold the same weight they did before the stroke three years ago. Oh, he was doing well physically wise. He didn’t need help getting around anymore. Didn’t just pause for a long time while he was sucking in breath, getting ready to move. He could make his own meals and take care of himself just fine, and he had been smart with his money, really smart, back in a time where you could save up for what you needed to. He didn’t need to work; he could just cost.
I stuck around, costing with him. He often cooked me a good meal and doubled checked on my life. Simple questions, matter of fact questions. The questions you have to ask when you’re living with someone. “You ever think you’re going to get promoted? You ever going to ask that coworker of yours out? You ever going to save up for a different place?”
He was nosy. I guess it was his job now that mom was gone, that and making the meals, and checking to see if I had shaved just right, or showered just long enough. Double check that my shirt wasn’t the same one I wore twice already in that week.
I hated it. Despised it. He was never like that before mom had taken the knife to herself. Back then he was a proper man, letting me take care of myself. He was the bread winner; mom was the support system. That was her job and despite the depression she still did it nine to five.
Now she was gone and dad had very half-assed morphed into her. That’s not what he taught me, not when I was young, when it counted. He was breaking his own rules. Hypocrite.
He had gotten me some gifts for my last birthday. A new suit, a new tie, and some stuff for my bed to sleep better. I don’t need that dad, not now. You’re supposed to be the man of this house, but you’ve abandoned it. Now it’s my job, now I got to grow up. I got to be strong, tough, and harsh. I will be harsh.
And deep down; deep, deep,… deep down I’ve just always wondered what it would be like if I slammed a knife through your neck like mom had done to hers. I found her body; I touched the cold metal of the blade in fear. I held her in my arms, I cried about it, I felt like I wouldn’t stop crying. My body hurt, it was draining. It was exhausting, crying like a baby. A little baby. Cry, cry to your mommy you baby.
But over the years I wondered, thoughts in the back of my mind, wondered about what it would have felt like if I had pulled that knife out of mom’s dead body just to put it back in. Jam it into her a couple of times.
I had killed before this, what happened with dad, once. Third time I was driving after getting my license fully. This bunny starts jumping past the road. I can pull away, try to miss him, but my mind gets curious. I start to wonder; I need to know. I pull towards him and feel a slight bump as I hit the animal. I’m a big boy now, all grown up.
I look out back the window as I’m driving and there is a patch of red on the road beside a fluffy lump of white. It’s just sticking out there for all to see. Someone did see this, I can hear a child screaming about it. A mom is trying to comfort him. A mom that’s doing her job, being a woman so he can grow up to be a man.
I can see the light start to stream in through the window as I stand over my dead dad. After locking eyes with me he didn’t try to pull out the knife, didn’t struggle. He just rested there and let himself bleed to death and I just stood there the whole time. I pull out the knife from his neck.
The blade comes out easy enough, not too much of a fight. I wonder? I wonder…
I proceed to stab my father in the neck eight more times. The head after that point rolls off and smacks onto the floor down bellow. The bloody stump shoots out crimson and my dad’s stark white pillows become a bitter red. I can smell copper; I can taste it. It tastes good, it makes me strong.
--
I have a dream that night. I’m standing over my dad’s dead body, his head is resting on the floor, but it’s Iris’s head now. Her body rests on the bed before me, no more face to her, just a stump, a bleeding stump. She’s bleeding everywhere.
I’m scared, I’m sad, I couldn’t have done this to her. But I got to go now, it’s time for work, it’s time for my life at the DollerAndGo. When I get to work I realize I really had just killed my dad and not Iris. I realize this because now, in this world, everyone looks like Iris. And they don’t look like current Iris. They look like she did when she was just a teenager and back in high school.
Customers come in, looking like Iris, shop for goods, and leave. It’s a pretty busy day and I keep to myself, making the chit chat needed to function on the job. Sometimes the fact that they look like Iris results in disturbing sights. One woman is pregnant. The baby inside of her, it looks like Iris too. You can’t have a full person inside of you so the hands and legs of the baby Iris is sticking out of the body of the mother. Blood is spilling out of the appendages ripping their way through her body. They move around wildly, the baby trapped inside. Poor baby.
My boss calls me in then. He looks like Henry, short hair, thick clothing, older, my age.
“We were friends back then when we were young. You were the big-time class clown and who doesn’t love that. The kids, they cheered you on. Remember when you snuck in for me that pot? You were a good kid then,” I can tell by Henry’s words that he isn’t really Henry. I hadn’t gotten Henry pot. I did get one kid pot back in high school, but it wasn’t someone that grew up to be my boss at the DollerAndGo. That kid had left Deer Port like everyone else.
“But we aren’t in high school anymore Levi. I can’t have you slacking off while you’re working anymore, always on your phone, never caring about your job. You’re fired Levi. It’s over Levi,” my boss in the dream says.
I’m so thankful then. I’ll have to find new work now, and my dad, he’s can still support me till I do. I won’t need this job anymore, which of course means I can burn it down.
The dream skips ahead to night time and I got a thing of gasoline with me and I’m splashing the fluid all over the hallways and walls of the now closed DollerAndGo. It smells bad, it’s a dream but I can smell it. I splash the stuff this way and that and then I pull out a lighter and I flip the lid. Fire stands out, providing the only light before me. I toss the thing and all of DollerAndGo starts burning.
I did my job to well though: the fire, it’s all around me. I quickly realize I’m stuck inside of the building and the smoke is taking over and I’m having a hard time breathing. The fire: it starts to dance around me. It forms the outlines of bodies, the outlines of Irises. It’s a building full to the brim of Irises made of flame. They swarm over me, hugging me in a loving embrace. They love me, they really do. Everyone loves me.
The DollerAndGo burns to the ground and I burn down with it. That’s my dream.