The Other Me

Mrs. Paloma left the classroom, and the overhead light died. I sat shivering in detention, alone in the dark.
The familiar voice skittered through my mind: Miss me?
I stood, chair screeching on the linoleum. A pitted face pushed out from behind the chalkboard, grotesque in its struggle.
You thought you could get rid of me! My pre-transition voice ground from my pre-transition lips.
I didn’t miss her at all. I loved being trans.
The other me cackled.
I threw my chair at the chalkboard, and the other me screamed in a voice that no longer belonged to anyone alive.

Toshiya Kamei