After The Fall

***hey everyone, it’s been a difficult time for mr./mrs.prettyboygirl. my mental health has been terrible. it’s been bad enough i’ve actually felt physically ill and unable to complete basic tasks. i’m doing my best to attend to myself, but it can be difficult when there are so many other things that need my care and attention. i hope you enjoy this short passage. it’s been especially difficult to write, so i’m a bit behind. thank you all for supporting my work and riding with me through it. xoxo ~s***

The next day, Rat could hardly move. The fall had been worse than they’d initially thought. When they tried to sit up, a pain sharp as a knife tip shot up their spine causing them to flop back down in agony. They reached for their phone, attempting to text Tiger for help, only to find that no matter how hard they focused, their fingers wouldn’t close around the vexing device.

“Mother fucker,” Rat swore, red in the face.

Rat turned their head to look at their ineffective hands, and flinched. Their hands were swollen beyond recognition. Their nails had almost all broken in jagged patterns, and a few had entirely out. Rat shut their eyes, trying not to think about how mutilated their hands were. They resigned themself to the reality that they would not be able to move until Tiger returned home. Rat stared up at their ceiling, glaring at the cracked molding.

“Hey Siri?” Rat said suddenly.

Their phone chirped as Siri listened.

“Call Tiger.” Rat commanded.

Calling Tiger, Siri replied.

Rat waited, listening to the phone ring and ring. Waiting for Tiger to pick up. Hoping she wasn’t busy. Worried her phone might be on silent. Unsure what they would do if Tiger didn’t respond.

“You okay?” Tiger asked, as she answered the phone.

“I need to see a doctor. I can’t move.” Rat said, their heart racing.

Saying the words aloud brought into focus the dire reality. Rat’s eyes welled with tears. They bit their tongue and slowed their breathing, hoping to keep their voice from cracking.

“I’ll call around and get back to you as soon as I find somebody.”

“Tiger, I can’t pick up my phone. My fingers aren’t working.” Rat said, urgently.

Tiger paused for a moment, processing the situation.

“How did you call me?”

“I had to use Siri,” Rat whimpered, “Please come home.”

“Let me tell my boss. I’ll be home in an hour or less.”

Tiger hung up leaving Rat to stew alone in their thoughts. What was wrong with their body? Was it a passing moment, or had they managed to paralyze themself in a moment of inebriated impulsivity? Rat began coughing uncontrollably, each cough plunging a blade into their back. Saliva landed around their mouth, and they let out a dry, tearless sob. They felt their chest tightening as they struggled to regain their composure. Rat counted backwards from 10. They couldn’t be paralyzed. 9. They’d nearly sat up earlier. 8. But what if their hands were paralyzed? 7. Was that a thing? 6. Rat’s head throbbed. 5. Rat hadn’t been able to move too much, but they had nearly sat up. 4. Perhaps it was all psychosomatic? 3. Maybe Rat was catastrophizing so hard that their body had quit? 2.There was no use getting worked up yet over possible prognoses when they hadn’t even been seen by a doctor. 1. Rat sighed, their breathing still strained, but nearly back to normal. They felt like a sad toppled turtle. Was this what turtles thought when they flipped onto their backs, unable to catch the ground for support? Did they ponder their demise as they wiggled around, exerting every bit of effort available to right themselves?

Rat estimated it would be twenty to forty minutes before Tiger would make it home. Each minute felt excruciatingly endless. Rat was spiraling, digging themself deeper and deeper into their own pit of despair. Rat bit their lip, hoping to draw blood. Hoping to vent the pent up agitation building in their body. They imagined their hands balling into fists, what was left of their jagged stiletto nails cutting into their palms. Rat decided to investigate the rest of their body. They began by focusing on their toes, attempting to cultivate any movement. To their relief, their toes curled, pain shooting up from their injured ankle. In a way, it was assuring. They could feel the pain. They realized their entire ankle was throbbing. Perhaps the issue was more that Rat had instinctively dissociated from their body to avoid comprehending the degree of their injuries. Rat braced themself and attempted to bend one knee in. This time, the pain tingled, emanating from the base of their spine. Rat managed to lift one knee, then the other. The little movement relieved a bit of pressure from their back, and they were able to gently roll onto their side. In that moment, finally able to rest off of their back, they realized how exhausted they were. Awareness of the mental toll of the past twelve hours crept across their body, and for what felt like a moment, they blinked.

When they opened their eyes, Tiger was standing over them, a combination of concern and irritation playing across her face.

“Rat,” She said, nudging the half awake Rat.

Rat’s vision blurred in and out as they regained consciousness.

“Tiger?” Rat replied, blearily.

“You were able to move?” She asked, noting Rat’s change in position.

“A little bit.”

“Let me look at you.”

Tiger peeled back the blanket and gasped. Rat’s ankle was nearly triple its normal size and their wrists were a deep purple. Most of their nails had come off, and blood coagulated around their swollen fingertips.

“Shit, Rat. It’s so much worse in the daylight.” Tiger said, turning green.

“Yeah?” Rat said, dreamily, “I haven’t gotten a chance to look at anything.”

“I’m glad you called me. Rat, this is serious.”

“I know. I’m fucked up.”

Tiger began collecting Rat’s clothes and laid them in a pile on the bed beside Rat’s huddled body. She placed an elderly pair of gray, snow stained UGG boots on the ground and retrieved a fluffy winter coat from Rat’s closet.

Tiger paused, clicking her tongue, “What did you get yourself into, Ratty?”

Tiger parked in the red, leaving their emergency lights on as they ran inside the Mount Vernon Chase Brexton urgent care center to grab a wheelchair for Rat. On the drive over Rat had faded in and out of sleep, unable to keep their eyes open. The gentle swaying of the car rocked them into peaceful unconsciousness, only to be roused by Tiger, who seemed to be the only one comprehending the gravity of the operation. Tiger swiftly returned to the car with a chair and one of the guards.

“Mr. Perkins is going to escort you into the lobby while I find parking. I’ll be up as soon as I can.”

“Are you able to stand, ma’am?” Mr. Perkins asked.

“Kinda.” Rat replied, frowning.

Rat wasn’t happy to wake up to being ma’amed, but they didn’t have much of a choice in the situation. At work they were Lilith, at home they were Rat, at clinics they would have to respond to their dead name.

“Let me see what I can do.” Mr. Perkins said as he bent over.

He wove his arm under Rat’s armpit and lifted them onto the wheelchair beside the car. Rat wanted to help, but the pressure of the lift sent another wave of pain through their body. Rat whimpered in agony.

“I’m sorry, ma’am! It’s over now. You can rest in the chair.”

Mr. Perkins wheeled Rat into the waiting room. It was the first time Rat had been in a medical facility in years for any reason other than an STI screening, and even those mostly happened in clinics. Even their testosterone shots were administered from an LGBT+ outreach center. Rat didn’t like doctors. They didn’t like hospitals. They didn’t like being inspected by cis people who didn’t know anything about trans bodies and who couldn’t comprehend why such an intelligent young woman would choose to sell their body for money.

The waiting room was full of anxiously waiting people. An elderly couple tittered in one corner, the man shakily standing beside his wife who was nodding off in a wheelchair. Rat presumed they were there because she needed care, but maybe it was the other way around. Maybe they just did everything together. The man coughed loudly, retrieving a balled up paper towel from his pocket. He coughed into the paper, then balled it up again, returning it to it’s home. He didn’t make a move to wash his hands or to grab a handful of hand sanitizer from the dispenser only a few feet away. Rat grimaced. Another woman herded a gaggle of fidgeting children. The eldest sat quietly playing on their phone while the youngest took off crawling, a long strand of mucus dripping from her nose. There were two red faced men in stained clothes and shoes that peeled apart, revealing gray socks and bits of calloused toes, sitting slumped into chairs by a magazine rack. One woman stood at the check-in desk, yelling irately about her bill, asking why she should have to pay when all she got was a referral to see another doctor. It was a valid question. Rat could see themself getting into the same argument were they in better shape.

“I’m gonna check you in, Ms. Da Silva.” Mr. Perkins said as he wheeled Rat over to a quiet corner facing the front desk.

“Thank you.” Rat half whispered.