CHAPTER 1

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He's mad, he's always been mad. Those words have echoed through my head since I was a kid. And what can I say. It's true. I am mad, and I'm very happy with it. I can't say for certain when I first realized I was mad. My doctor says I was mad the moment I was born. After all how can I have 1 blue eye and 1 green eye and not be mad? And yet…. If you ask me when it started… I think it started when I was 10. I still remember that day, that exact moment.

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It had been raining for most of the night, and I had just opened the shutters of my room so I could breath in the fresh air. Down in the streets merchants were setting up their stalls to try and sell their wares to unsuspecting buys who didn't know they could get everything cheaper if they just went down to the corner store. I had been about to go back and start my chores when I say it. I can't remember exactly what had happened but next thing I knew I was down on the streets walking towards the merchant whose good had caught my eyes. Stopping in front of the merchant I'm not sure how to act. Then all at once something in me snaps. My hands move on their own as I grab the garment sticking out of the merchant's cart. The moment it's in my hands I start running, flying up the stairs into my room and slamming the door behind me. A moment later the door is bolted and locked, and now I'm alone in my room. Alone in my room with the dress I just stole from the merchant. I lay the dress down on my bed and look at it. It's a simple dress; blue material with white threads holding it all together. My hands are shaking as I shut the shutters so there is no chance anyone can see me, as I strip down to my underwear.

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My heart feels like it's going to explode as I slowly undo the fastenings of the dress. It's with my heart in my throat that I lift the dress of my bed and begin to put it on. The fabric is soft, softer than my normal clothes and certainly softer than my nicest clothes. It fits perfectly, better than anything I've ever worn. Smoothing out any wrinkles that may be on the chest I shakily step away from my bed and in front of the large mirror that hangs from my closet door. A little girl stares back at me, her blue and green eyes stare back at me. I lift my arm and she lifts hers. Slowly I reach up and cover my mouth with my hand. My whole body is shaking. I can't stop staring. I look like a little girl. I look JUST like a little girl.

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That's when it all started. That's when I started leading the double life. During the day I worm my normal clothing and did normal boy things. But at night….. at night as soon as my door was closed and locked for the night I'd change. Change into the little girl I was meant to be. I'd slip into the dress and fluff my now shoulder length ahir, then sneak out through my window and down to the streets. On my shy nights I walk the darkened alleys of paris. On my brave nights I'd walk the streets, looking at the people. I never talked with them though. That was one thing I couldn't do. No matter how hard I tried I was never able to imitate a girl's voice.

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Then…..about 6 months after I'd started, I was found. I had climbing back into my room when I'd heard a knock at the door. My mom was trying to get into my room. I'd thought I had locked the door, no matter how many times I run it through in my head I could swear I locked the door. Yet somehow my mom was able to open the door with no resistance. She stared at me, unable to speak unable to voice the thoughts in her head. And I stood there, unable to move or speak. Frozen in place like ice had been holding me in place. I still remember her face as she backed out of my room and left me alone. That was the first night I didn't hang the dress up. That night I threw it into my closet and did my best to sleep. It did little good. And when I woke the next morning and went downstairs I found 2 men waiting for me. I remember their hands grabbing, lifting my off the ground and hurling me into a gated wagon. I remember the gate slamming shut and someone locking it.

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I never saw the dress again; I never saw my family again. I was taken to the asylum, stuffed into a straight jacket and tossed into a room with only a bed with a thin sheet. 4 times a week a doctor would come into my room and talk. He'd ask me things like; how I'm feeling? Why I wore the dress? Did I think I was a girl? Do I fantasize about men? For 7 years this goes on. My answers don't change, my life doesn't change. I'm locked in, trapped in a world that thinks I'm sick, that I'm mad. And on some level I think I agree with them. Why else would I feel happier in a dress then I ever have before? Why else whenever I see my reflection do I not see a boy, but a girl? For 7 years I live with this…..this…..this limbo of sexes. Boy? Girl? Boy? Girl? BOY? GIRL? Then one night…everything changes.

AN: WELL FOLKS? WHAT DO YOU THINK? CONTINUE? ABANDON?

LET ME KNOW!