Shaky hands tugged on long blond hair. This was the big moment. Don't stop and think. If you stop you'll lose your nerve! No matter how many times Lucille repeated this to herself she couldn't seem to do it. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. She reached for the scissors she had set on her bedside table. Well here goes nothing. Before she had time to change her mind she quickly snipped off a large chunk of hair. Once she started, she couldn't stop. It was like all her stress and pain was disappearing the more she cut, and damn if she wasn't hooked on the feeling! After ten minutes she chanced a glance at the mirror that hug on her closet. Her hair was uneven with random patches shorter than others and stray hairs sticking up in every which way. She couldn't help an excited squeal. Sure, it looked like a toddler had gotten ahold of her mom's scissors and went crazy but at least it was short.

She yanked off her satin dress with as much hate as she could muster and tossed it in her closet. Thankfully her chest was small enough that she only needed a training bra, which would be very helpful if she was to complete her goal. She tossed that on top of the dress in her closet and hurried over to her bed. She looked around, out of habit, to make sure she wasn't being watched before pulling out an old button up shirt her brother had left behind when he moved out. It wasn't anything fancy but she kept it around in the hopes he would one day return. Now, she had different plans for it. She gently slid it over her shoulders, not quite sure why she was suddenly nervous. She did up the buttons with shaky hands before smoothing out the folds. She chanced a look into the mirror and couldn't help the toothy grin that spread across her face. The shirt was all kinds of wrong on her. The sleeves much too long and it was so baggy it almost fit her like a dress but she loved it! She opened her dresser and pulled out her one pair of jeans and quickly put them on, stuffing the excess shirt in her pants. She rolled up her sleeves so that she could see her hands and took one last look in the mirror. Perfect.

Only it wasn't perfect because her older brother chose that exact moment to come barging in. "What in God's name have you done?!" Lucille froze, afraid to turn her head to look at the intruder; afraid to see his face. She let out a loud yelp when she felt her brother's hand tighten around her arm. The usual loving gesture was completely lost as he dug his nails into the fabric. He yanked her towards him and forced her to face him. She was petrified. Gentle, chocolate eyes were now dark pits and Lucille could feel herself falling. Her previous high was all but gone as she looked at her role model's pissed, no disgusted, face. Had she done something wrong? She knew she wasn't supposed to play with scissors but surely she didn't look that bad.

"…Let dad deal with you." She heard as her brother pushed her back and stomped out, slamming the door shut.

"Mike?" she managed to choke out. But it was too late, he was already gone.

She crouched on the floor, bringing her knees up to rest her head on. It felt like hours that she sat, waiting in fear but it was likely only minutes. When her dad finally arrived, he had taken one look at her and spat in her face. Tears feel down her cheeks in confusion and shame. Was stealing the scissors really so bad? Before she knew it, she was being shoved out of her room and down the stairs. She tried to watch her step so she wouldn't trip but her dad only shoved her harder telling her to walk faster. Her mom was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, the same disgusted look on her face that her brother had worn.

"Are you a faggot?" Her mom shouted the minute she was down the steps.

"A what?" What in the world was a faggot?

"God hates faggots, Lucille!" Her mother took her silence as acceptance. "What the hell are we going to do with you?"

Lucille blinked. "Do with me? I-I guess we could start by getting me a better haircut…" Her father smacked her upside the head. Apparently that was the incorrect answer.

"We can't have another faggot in this house! We put up with your brother until he moved out but at least he liked women too!"

Liked women? What is mom talking about? Of course Gabe liked women; he liked me.

"I like women!" Lucille shouted trying to get my mom to go back to her usual smile. It wasn't a lie, she did have a few female friends. If her mom was so concerned with her liking women then she could just stop hanging out with her male friends.

Her father smacked her again. "That's the problem here, Luci!"

"Might as well call her Lucifer with how much she's betraying God," Michael added from beside their mother.

Lucille blinked in confusion. Wasn't that what mom wanted? Maybe mom thinks I look too much like a boy so people might get confused. "I'm sorry I borrowed the scissors without asking first. And I'm sorry I cut my hair, I just like it short for some reason. And I'm sorry I borrowed Gabe's shirt. It just looked so comfy I couldn't help myself! I like boy clothes, not dresses. I-I'll still wear a dress to church though!"

With every word her family seemed to get more and more upset until she found herself on the floor, holding her chest. Daddy pushed me?! Tears now freely fell down her face as she tried to curl back up. She was stopped by a sharp kick from her mother's pointed shoe as her father grabbed her arms and yanked her back up. "Get out of this house." Her father's voice was so calm it scared her into backing up to the door. Her brother opened the door and shoved her out before slamming it in her face.

The last words he spoke shot like a bullet into her heart. "May God strike you down, Lucifer."