A short horror story.
TW: suicide, gender dysphoria
I ignored the scratching and yelping echoing from the cabinet. I knew it was still alive. I tightly gripped the VHS tape in my hand. The edges pressed into my flesh. I pushed the rectangular entity into the metal welcoming crevice of the VCR. The screeching from the hideous creature echoed through the living room but didn’t wake my wife.
I never meant to bring this curse on our family. It was just a tape. It was just a memory burnt into the spooled and unspooled plastic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I stood frozen as I watched the creature burst through the cabinet door. Viridescent ooze projected from its mouth. The ooze missed my face by a mile. All that was left in front of me was burnt rings on the carpet. The aftermath of the ooze. It was a tarantula of my past with a desire to possess — to slaughter me. I couldn’t run. My feet wouldn’t let me. Only my eyes tracked the monstrosity arachnid as it sprung at my face. Its two fangs dripped with venom.
“Wake up, babe, wake up,” a groggy voice was in my ear, “babe, come on, wake up.”
My eyes whipped open bug-eyed. I lunged out of my bed and landed hard on the carpeted floor. I inhaled and exhaled. My breath was chaotic. Beads of sweat dripped in every crease of my trembling body.
“You need to go see the Doctor,” the voice of my wife slurred as she rolled over to fall asleep once more, “you can’t keep waking me up in the middle of the night like this.”
I was speechless. I tucked my legs under my chin as I leaned against the wall. I stared at the VHS tape on top of my dresser. My wife, with all her good intentions, cleaned the attic. She found a box that held my secret. My secret sits on top of my dresser.
I feel like the dresser is eight feet tall — it is daunting. Fate towers over my head with nothing but disgrace and pain to share with my lover. I needed to make it through the night, I needed to make it till morning, and I needed to prevent my wife from buying a VCR.
The sun rose quickly. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t dream. My bloodshot eyes resembled a stoner on 420, but work still beckoned me. I slid my back up the wall until I was in a wall sit position.
“How did you sleep, Rubes?” I asked casually as my beautiful princess rose from her slumber.
“Come on Beck! Why do you ask me that? You know the answer,” she slipped on her puppy slippers. She had an empathetic smile, but sometimes I felt like it was a look of pity.
“You need to go and get help.”
“I know. I will. I have an appointment Friday.”
She sighed, “It is Friday.”
Ruby thought I was seeing Doctor Bridges. Instead, I was seeing Doctor White, the best gender specialist in the county. I couldn’t tell her. When she married me, she married a lesbian. How do I ruin her life and say I am not “her.” I never imagined that I would meet such a beautiful human. I never thought I would be married.
I never thought that she would be against me. Many times she would express her relief that I wasn’t transgender. She watches the news and talks endlessly about trans issues while reiterating that she supports people’s rights, but she would never be with a trans person.
I am trans. I haven’t told my wife. I am afraid to lose her, so I delay getting the transition services. I desperately need to transition. If I start testosterone, we won’t be wife and wife — we will be single. Body hair repulses her, deep voices irritate her and don’t get me started on her opinion on male genitals.
Top surgery, removing my breasts, is the first step. I could covertly take these steps to get the surgery. I have a large chest that medically qualifies me for a reduction. I don’t want a breast reduction — I want these disgusting mounds of flesh gone.
I could make up some story to ease her mind like I have a cancer gene, which isn’t a direct lie, and she would accept it. As long as I don’t utter the words, I am a man — she will accept me and my breast removal.
The smell of hand sanitizer and musty breath from speaking through masks filled my nostrils without my consent. The receptionist greeted me kindly, although she flirted with me regularly. I signed my chosen name on the plain impersonal white sheet, not Beck — Ben.
The sterile white walls of this office were the only place I felt safe. I think about the stereotype that love can transcend all barriers. True love is full of acceptance, but not this love. I don’t hate Ruby for her feelings. She didn’t sign up for this, she didn’t ask for this — this is my life.
The nurse ushered me into the exam room. The walls were pale and lifeless with the aura of death lingering in the air. I could sense it. The poltergeist that haunts me torments me — that fucking tape. Unexpectedly, the room felt heavy. It was like a ton of wet cement pouring over me, I gasped for air as the pieces of stone smother me. Chunks of rock clogged my throat. The wet stone tumbled upon me, trapping my limbs.
I stare upwards to see a little strand of light flickering above me. I can make it! There is still hope, I am not going to die here. Adrenaline surged through my core. I pushed upwards. I thought I was making it, but I wasn’t. Within minutes the gap shut tight. I floated into oblivion.
“Ben, wake up, Ben,” Doctor White shook me hard.
I jolted forward, almost landing on the cold floor. “I am so sorry, I must have dozed off.”
“Still not sleeping, I see,” it was a statement, not a question, “Have you been taking the medication I prescribed you?” He sat adjacent to my trembling body.
“I tried them a few nights ago. All they did was make the nightmare worse. I couldn’t move or wake up. The only person I woke up was my wife. I was screaming for hours.”
“I see,” he scribbled notes on his notepad, “how is therapy? Do you feel like it is helping?”
I met his question with silence. I went to therapy three times a week. Ruby almost caught me. I couldn’t risk her knowing the truth. I desperately wanted her to love me unconditionally, but she wouldn’t. I was pausing my life to avoid this part of my life ending. I was terrified of being alone, but angry that the love I wanted had strings attached.
“I need to schedule more sessions.”
Doctor White furrowed his brow as he tapped his pen on the page. I imagine his notes look like a masterpiece of pointillism at the end of the day.
“You need to do the steps, Ben. If you want to keep moving forward in the process, you have to start cooperating.”
“I know. I am moving as fast as I can. I have some details to sort out.”
The sigh of recognition was audible and intentionally leaking from Doctor White’s mouth. He knew I hadn’t told Rubes. Telling her meant losing my life and starting fresh. I don’t want to live in a world where she doesn’t exist, but I don’t want to exist in this foreign form. Be alone. Losing my home. Lose my dogs. Lose the only woman that ever saw me — the fake me.
“The waitlist is moving up. You are in fifth place. That means we are looking at six months or less to get your surgery scheduled.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to start hormone replacement therapy in the meantime? It is an option for you.”
I gulped. I felt sweat on my forehead as my head began to twitch. Fighting every instinct of self-preservation, I answered.
“Yes.”
The world was imploding. I was ground zero.
As I drove away from the pharmacy, my chest felt heavy. There isn’t anything wrong with her having boundaries, she has the right to be with me as a woman and leave me as a man. It doesn’t hurt any less. The bloody umbilical cord that bound us the day we spoke our vows will get cut, bleed down our bodies, and separate us forever.
The house was eerily quiet when I arrived home. The kind of silence that makes you check for stalkers and monsters in the closets. I wasn’t afraid, just cautious.
A rumbling noise echoed in my ears reverberating, penetrating — it’s too loud! It bashed the sides of me with waves one after another. This room vibrated surrounding me with sound waves of hell. This is what hell feels like — painful resonance.
“Beck, wake up,” Ruby with an annoyed sigh shook me.
I felt the cold touch of her grasp. The proverbial gaping hole that now sat between us. I was huddled on the kitchen floor — I guess I fell asleep again.
“You need to start sleeping, baby, in bed. Or at least take your pills regularly. What did the Doctor say?”
“Don’t worry, I know. I will. I will get better.”
Even as I hugged her I felt the disconnect. The hole was widening and I knew I would fall in.
I tucked my T neatly in a drawer. She wasn’t nosy, I was confident in its safe location. The bed was welcoming and warm like sitting on a beach in the summer. The smell of sea salt wisping its way through your nostrils — intoxicating. The bottle was like a good omen, I felt safe on my side of the bed. I was evolving, I was becoming the real me despite Ruby. I don’t resent her. I resent myself for choosing her over my happiness.
My eyelids touch my lashes as the darkness engulfs me. I wander in the dark looking for a tangible item — anything to ground me in this new reality. I heard crying. A high-pitched squeal-like tone came from the darkness. Not a child, but a woman.
I followed the sound only to see the back of a woman covered in strips of cloth. Hair down to her ass, long enough to sit on. The figure was rocking back and forth without pause. The tears turned to sobs as I approached.
“Are you okay miss?” There was no reply. My hand extended and touched the ice-cold shoulder of the entity.
“Are you okay?”
Her head turned crackly and didn’t stop until her blackened eyes met my stare. In an ear-piercing tone, the figure wailed.
“Why didn’t you choose me?”
Taken aback I pull away only to realize the woman is…
I can’t stay awake. No matter how hard I try, I feel the heaviness and the dread of that damn tape. I swear there are round little holes on its surface with tiny balls watching me cross the bed. I go left and the little goo dots do the same. Tonight, I was not going to sleep. Not again. It can’t keep torturing me with this violence. The onyx plastic glistened as I heard Ruby slam the front door.
“Guess what! I found a VCR at the pawn shop on Fifth Ave,” she yelled.
“Great, honey!” I faked enthusiasm, “I am so glad you found one finally.”
The dread welled up forming a lump in my throat. The monster was going to be set free. I knew it would destroy me, swallow me whole in one gulp. Its nasty bile digests me as I stare into the eyes of my lover — abandoned. The room around me began to swirl, no, not sleep, not now. My arms raised, I focused and screamed with all my might. Vibrations surrounded me.
“I am not going to fall fucking asleep!”
(Videotape Content)
“I don’t know if anyone will ever see this, I guess I hope no one will. Today is March 17th, 2023, my name is Ben Collins and this is my Last Will & Testament. To my wife, I leave everything. I want to say that I am sorry for leaving you this way. I know you never wanted to be with a man, but that is who I am. Without you, I don’t know who I would be, but I can’t continue living this lie. I can’t transition. I tried. I went to the doctor, and I asked for support, it was a yes at first.
I passed every test until it changed. The insurance got denied, my therapist was fired and I had to start things over. It would take another three years to get the processes done. I can’t live like this in the monstrous shell for another three years. I am tired of fighting Rubes, I am so fucking tired. Please don’t hate me for being this…please find love, please find hope again, please just don’t give up on life like me. It’s not your fault. It never was.”
Ben blew a kiss at the camera as the screen went black. Ruby sat with her jaw on the floor. Ben was next to her, a pale translucent tone to his skin.
“This is what you’ve been trying to tell me,” a tear fell onto her cheek, “you did this because of me?”
“No, it wasn’t your fault,” Ben touched his cold lifeless hand to her cheek, “it was never your fault Rubes. It wasn’t you.”
A crackling sound echoed in the silent room as Ben dissolved into speckles of light.
“It’s time to wake up now,” a soft voice whispered into Ruby’s ear. She felt a tingly sensation on her neck as the cold breath tapped her skin.
Ruby awoke still sitting on the couch. The sun was coming up, she was there all night. The VCR made a wiring sound even though the tape was resting on the edge of the little flap where it was inserted.
On the nightstand next to her lay a white paper dotted with tears. A photo of her husband in the upper right corner of the page, and a small paragraph written with a time and date of the funeral service.
The obituary read: “Ben Collins, loving husband, died March 17th, 2023. Loyal wife Ruby Collins laid her husband to rest at Evans Cemetery this afternoon.”
Ruby stared at the page. Breathing in deeply she smiled knowing that he knew she loved him. She inhaled and held her breath momentarily while rising from her seat. She grabbed the tape and unplugged the VCR.
“Ben, I miss you,” she spoke into the air surrounding her. It felt thick, but comforting, “I am going to wake up now, I love you.”
Ruby awoke in bed. It was a typical Saturday except this morning she woke up alone.
About The Author
The tale above comes from the mind of the author who is transgender. They aim to take their personal experiences and meld them into a fictional world of pain, triumph, and self-discovery. Please note that the stories, while including personal elements, are works of fiction.
Tas is an autistic, queer trans, nonbinary, disabled person of color, published author, and writer.
https://tasthoughts.medium.com/about-the-writer-6e42c0f04b5c
Tas The Artist 
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