Half-caste ( just a small part of it)

Chapter  1



The silence is a beast. A void the size of all the gods of men's imaginations combined. The silence could kill a man. Eradicate all hope he could still hold on to with his fingertips. I cry because I can not hold on to the little peace I have. Chase does not respond at all.

Chase smiles at me and wipes my tears away. I pull away from him and he pulls me close. His breasts rub up against me as I stare in his eyes. I scream and scream and scream just to push the silence away as he whispers to me.

"You are fine lovely," he says wiping my tears onto one of the knuckles on his right hand and kisses the spot where my tears are. I can see the smile on his face but his eyes tell a different story.

Some stupid guys ran up on him only a couple of minutes ago and started calling him a girl but he is a guy at heart. He claims to be too strong and too independent to be a girl. Yet, he cried when they called him a girl and i went off. His tears made me attack all those ignorant guys. By attack, I mean constantly punch them until none of them moved  at all. Until all my anger and fear was released on them.

Chase's real name is Annie. He is only about five feet tall and does not dress like a guy. As a matter of fact he dresses in a fashion most people would call emo. He used to cut himself and the scars are now long red marks on his arms. He and I have both been called half-caste because we are mixed and people seem to assume this will offend us but most people's favorite thing to call us is fags. This does not get to Chase as much as people calling him Annie or a girl.

It used to worry me that Chase despised being called a girl so much but now it is simply second nature to call him a guy regardless of his long hair and the way he walks. Even his low feminine voice does not throw me off my game. Nothing can. I think being in love makes me just go with the flow of what he wants.

When Chase first started saying he wanted to be called a girl I would still dream about him and wonder why it was that I had dreams about a girl who demanded passionately that everyone call her a boy. My dreams started off simple and innocent with us sitting around and pointing out all the reasons Titanic was one of the best movies of all time and then evolved into physical things.

A part of me thought my dreams would advance to sex but I could not wrap my mind around having sex with someone who is and was not okay with being a girl. This was reinforced by the fact that he cries when he is on his period and tries his best to stay away from me. He responds as if he has some deadly disease.

" Baby boy, I am okay. God knows those little pricks can not do anything to cause me any real pain," Chase says as if he had not just been crying his eyes out only seconds before as if he had seen the most harrowing thing of all time.

I smile at him and pretend I am giving him a hug. Instead i pull up his blouse in an attempt to hide his bra strap. If he noticed it he would have only gotten angry. A short Hispanic friend of his told him once about using plastic wrap as a way to hide or even eradicate his breasts but he had said no. I did not understand this until he glanced over at me. I wanted to hug him then. He would not get rid of something that overtly bothered him and caused him anger because of me. Did he think i would forsake him if he did not have breasts?

Chase's parents started sending him to therapy about three years ago when he was fourteen because this was around the time he started denying he was a girl. He would have full on fights with his father when he called him a girl but his dad would never hit him. His dad said he would not hit his little girl. His so called little girl broke two of his ribs and his nose.

Around this same time something even more relevant than all of this happened. All the pictures in the house disappeared in a matter of days and gave me a new found desire to go back in time. Not just to look at all those pictures I had not even glanced at but to fix whatever the problem was. Sadly i was dealing with the fact that my own brother had disappeared. No one in my family knew why he was gone but we grew worried. I just could not focus on Chase's problems during that time. I should have.

I was the first to give in to not calling Chase a girl and to calling him Chase instead of Annie. Everyone else who knew this little girl they had called Annie then could not wrap their mind around the idea of this beautiful girl wanting to be a guy. Within about the first month Annie was Chase o everyone and we all called him "he" instead of the feminine pronoun. No one asked why this change occurred except for me.

"Girls are weak and guys take advantage of that," was his only response after i took almost two days to muster up the courage to ask why she wanted to be a guy now. i knew Chase was lying then and I still know there is an untold story there that I have to hear. Whatever the problem is... I want Annie back.


Chase smiles at me as we walk away from the school with one million accusing eyes on us. All of their glares ask different questions with the same backdrop of total and utter hatred. They all want our blood or at least or silence. They can not stand us because we are different. The reality of the matter is that i can not stand us sometimes because we are different. I wish i knew what it was that troubled Chase so much and why he occasionally goes to hide in his basement even when i am sure he is not on his period. It is very well known when Chase is on his period. His anger seems to grow drastically and all of a sudden everyone is the enemy instead of just those attacking him.

He leans into me and I smile kissing him on the cheek which makes him blush. By the time we get to his house he is practically running from me and laughing. He jets through the front door with his shoes flying off his feet. I stop at the front door and listen for only a moment before chasing him upstairs. By the time i reach his room he is sitting on the bed as still as any statue in a museum.

The whole world seems to stop with the sole purpose of admiring his beauty as he finally smiles up at me. I can tell he is nervous. He does not move except to push his hair out of his face. He smiles up to me and then stands up as if deciding on something.

"I am ready," he whispers and pulls me close to him. The lie that he just told is bigger than almost all of them ever. As soon as I touch his side and pull him close to me he flinches away as if I hurt him with my benign grip.  I try to stop him but I can see him retreating into his little turtle shell.

" Stop being such a fucking bitch," I say not stopping to think. I can not find the words to say how sorry I am before Chase turns around with what I think is a soda can and throws it at me in anger or sadness.

" Go fuck yourself you jerk. I never ever said anything like that to you. Go away you gay mother fucker," she says actually laughing now and I just stare at her . Could she be insane? She screams at the air before turning toward me and running straight at me. She stops right in front of me and puts her hand up my shirt holding onto a very serious expression even when I burst out laughing. I only laugh with the hop of figuring out what is going on but my laughter gets no response.

"I am glad that you are not really gay love," he says staring into my eyes. " I am not a girl or anything and i think this is different from a boy and a girl relationship. It is obvious that we belong together until we figure out what and who I am."

I stare at Chase and I want desperately to call him by his name. The name his mother gave her little girl the day she was born. I want so badly to say the name of the sane and unbroken girl I met and wanted to be with so bad. I can barely stand here and watch the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen in my life give up on being who she was meant to be. I had heard of girls who wanted to be guys before and I was fine with that but this is so different. Chase does not want to be a guy but really seems to just want to be seen as one.

I just stand there and stare at her for almost three minutes which happens to feel like a couple of decades of torture under the Inquisition. It feels like my body is being pulled apart as slowly is humanly possible. The pace does not change and it seems that the many people pulling the levers are calling me everything other than my name as if i am so much less than they are.

I pull Chase close and kiss him hard on the lips. I pull his shirt up over his head and he whimpers pulling away from me as if i am trying to kill him. He struggles away form me and pulls himself across his bed in an attempt to get away. I stare at him as he shakes in the corner. I walk up slowly and pull him close holding him still.

He sits there with me for a while before his hands fly up and punch me over and over again as if i am some sort of mass murderous. His body flies up next to me and w=away like a butterfly as he jumps up and runs out of the room in an attempt to escape me. I jump up and run after him into his sister's room. The room is exactly how she left it. He collapses on his bed which is a terrible attempt to get away form someone standing right behind you.

He screams the same word over and over and aver again as if it is the last thing she will ever say. I just stare as he rolls out of the bed and bolts out of the room with tears streaming down his face like the Angel falls or some other large waterfall. I sigh and slide down the wall of the room and wonder why Chase's sister did not have any pictures of herself anywhere. It seems strange for a girl to not have pictures of their self.  I made the assumption that all girls have pictures of themselves.

I stand up and look through the room for a picture of the girl by pulling open every drawer in the room. I finally find one about seven minutes later in the dresser close to her closet. Chase's sister looks as if she is being swallowed into hell itself in the picture. He hair is unkempt and she is slightly hanging her head. Her smile can not even be called struggled because her face is the face of defeat. All of this does not shock me as much as the next picture i find. The only person in the picture is holding a crimson rose and wearing a smirk I can not forget no matter how long it has been since the last time I saw him. My brother.

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