The birds began to sing and she knew it was time to open her eyes.

Slowly, the room began to appear around her as her lids parted, stone walls rose by her sides, draped with her family's crest. A red satin rug was placed beside her bed and the lit candles on her chandelier flickered across it beautifully. Her bed matched the rug, with a golden trim, and her only smile of the day was at how beautiful it was.

Across the bed was her tall mirror, the worst bit of her room. She stood and slowly walked over towards it, grimacing as her reflection came into view and the life she had dreamt about fled.

In her dreams, she was a beautiful lady of the castle, a warrior yes, but a lady all the same. She would have long, braided hair, brown like her mothers, and whilst she was stern-looking she would have a certain beauty about her that was hard to name.

Now, now she was disgusted by herself.

Father made her cut her hair, to keep appearances for visiting dignitaries, as though their opinion of them was more important than her happiness. It lay just below her ear, just short enough that she struggled to feel feminine at all.

She slowly looked down and met her reflections stare. Her blue, ocean blue, eyes swam with sadness. Tears that always demanded to escape were caged behind them, but she could see them shaking the cage, testing the bars, hoping that today would be the day she would break and they could flow free.

Further, her eyes fell, and she settled on her nose. Too big for her face, but it was hers nonetheless. It was hard to hate her nose though that could have been because she was full up of hatred for the rest of her body.

Her jaw. Fuck her jawline. So square, so masculine. It was her worst feature, at least on her face, and it filled her with disgust to see it again. Then there was the faint black dots scattered across her face, small tiny stubble that had grown in since she shaved the night before.

She shaved twice a day, yet it never seemed to be enough. Come morning or night, she could see it again and her self-hatred would multiply.

Broad, wide shoulders that turned her body into at best an upside down triangle, and at worst a square. Another masculine feature that made her sick with disgust. The armour father made her wear only made her look more robust and she hated every moment of it.

A flat chest, and then her non-existent hips. Her body was the opposite of how she wanted it, the opposite of her dreams.

She lifted her skinny arms, she was strong enough to fight, as father expected, but she was never strong looking. Her wrists were covered in scars, obtained in sparring if one could call fighting inner demons sparring.

With a sigh, she lowered the mask of happiness, or at least indifference, until she wore her usual false smile. She could laugh her usual fake laugh, and be the fake, false, dishonest person she had grown into.

Today was meant to be a happy day, her twenty-first name day, but for Natalie Cousland, every day was a living nightmare.

She had a horrific secret, a secret that could never leave her mind, her room, her safe space. She had been born a man and out there she was forced to be him. Twenty one years of self-hatred, and today is the day she would tell her father the truth of who she was, who she wanted to be, and who she had always been.

Her name was Natalie Cousland, and she was transgender.

Author's Note

This may seem familiar to anyone who follows me on Tumblr (bert-wrighty), I posted it a few months back. This story will be updated now and then when I feel angsty enough to write it.

My main story will be updated soon. Follow my Tumblr for updates.