by: Laura Browne-Lambert
A thick, meaty elbow clasped around Nell’s throat and yanked them deeper into the darkened alley. Their fingers scrabbled for purchase, nails tearing at the softer flesh around the man’s wrist. A fist connected with their stomach. Nell would have coughed if not for the arm that closed off their airway. Their feet dangled, and they kicked outward. A heaviness settled into their limbs and their vision tanked, black spots floating across the alarmingly pale, bearded face in front of them. The dumpster on the other side of the alley grew dim.
CW: violence, transphobia, homophobia
Image Description: A simple watercolor painting of a purple stiletto shoe. The backdrop is a field of yellow and white. The painting incorporates the colors of the nonbinary flag (yellow, white, purple, and black).
Credit: Laura Browne-Lambert
Nell flung themself onto their twin-sized mattress and tugged the duvet over their head at the sound of heavy, clomping footsteps on the stairs. They tugged the hem of their sparkly skirt under the covers just in time for the door to crack open. Yellow light flowed in from the hallway.
“Nelson, you in bed?” Through the air pocket they had left in the covers, Nell glimpsed their mother’s thinning hair and laugh lines.
“It’s Nell, Mother,” Nell huffed back.
Nell’s mother rolled her eyes upward in a gesture that silently said, Heaven help me. “That’s not an answer to my question.
“Yes, I’m in bed, Mother.”
“Did you finish your homework?”
“Yes.”
“Study for your test tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Pack your lunch?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Alright,” Nell’s mother said with a sigh. “Sleep well, Nell. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” Their chest constricted at the words, and Nell curled in tightly around themself. The light blinked out as the door clicked shut and their mother’s footsteps quietened.
Nell waited until they heard their mother’s door close before they threw the covers off. Jumping up, they flicked on the desk lamp and pulled a makeup kit from the duffel bag under their bed. Pocket mirror in hand, they lined their eyes in kohl and added a sultry gray to their eyelids that crept up to the outer edges of their brows. The light of their cell phone gave their pale skin a ghostly tint, but under the right lighting, Nell would look F-I-N-E. They dabbed a rosy flush onto their cheekbones and lined their lips in orchid pink. Exaggerated false eyelashes and a pair of chandelier costume earrings finished off the bold look. Just one last finishing touch. Nell pulled a wig with loose, flowy curls from the duffel, brushed out the tangles, and slid it over their head. Perfect.
With a pair of shiny, purple stilettos slung over their shoulder, Nell slid open the window. They had one leg hanging into the garden when they heard a creak. They stilled, readying themselves to race back under the covers. Muffled footsteps clopped closer. The door creaked, then slammed shut. Nell held their breath until their mother’s footsteps drew farther away. Damned door. It had a habit of swinging open with the draft.
Nell slipped into the hydrangeas, the spheres of bright blue blossoms dulled by darkness, and shook petals off their dress. They tiptoed all the way to the end of the driveway before brushing the dirt from their feet and slipping into their heels.
Like this, even under the cover of night, Nell felt beautiful. They shivered in the cool air. Beautiful was not a word they had grown up hearing as their mother’s only son, but it was a word they craved. They had learned to live that word in the nighttime by flashlight and the glow of their phone screen reflected by a borrowed hand mirror.
Nell threw their shoulders back and lifted their chin. Their heels click clacked deliciously against the pavement as they strode down the street and around the block. Their toes were beginning to feel the pinch, but – whatever. The euphoria that came with living their beauty for one night made up for the pain.
A block from their destination, Nell felt the hairs raise on the back of their neck and goosepimples form on their arms. A shadow grew beside hers in the light of the lampposts. Keep walking. Other people are allowed to be out after dark. Nell picked up their pace.
The words came first, ugly, hateful words that bit and tore at the beauty Nell had spent the evening spinning around themself. Hands and fists came second, digging into their sternum and splitting their lip. Nell tumbled into a sparsely lit alley followed by face they vaguely recognized from the doorways of neighborhood shops.
A wide, meaty hand clasped around Nell’s throat and yanked them deeper into the darkened passageway. Their fingers scrabbled for purchase, nails tearing at the softer flesh around the man’s wrist. Another fist connected with their stomach. Nell would have coughed if not for the arm that closed off their airway. Their feet dangled, and they kicked outward. A heaviness settled into their limbs and their vision tanked, black spots floating across the alarmingly pale, bearded face in front of them. The dumpster on the other side of the alley grew dim.
Nell lifted their knee and kicked outward. Their stiletto made contact with something soft and fleshy. The man behind them yowled into their ear. The force of his breath caused the crystals of their dangly costume earrings to clink as they swung back and forth. The grip on their arms loosened, and they twisted one arm out of his grasp. They spun outward, hacking their free arm down into the crook of their assailant’s elbow. Dirty fingernails scraped their skin and skittered off as the man tipped into the sooty brick wall behind him. Nell spun around, rushing from the dingy, garbage-strewn alley into the dim light that illuminated the sidewalk. They stumbled into the lamppost and balanced against it as they pulled off their heels.
Footsteps scuffled behind them and they spun around, nailing the man in the clavicle, the shoulder, the back of the neck as he turned away. One more for good measure. Nell twisted from their attacker and sprinted around the corner, without looking back.
Gasping for breath, Nell stumbled to the steps of an entrance that gave little indication of its purpose except for the short line of people dressed for disco.
“Nell!” The sound of Tina’s voice rang sharply in Nell’s ears. Oh, thank God. “Nell, what the hell happened?”
Nell choked around their labored breathing, “Some asshole.”
“Damn, girl,” Tina wrapped her arms around Nell’s shivering frame. Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense tail and thick glasses sat on her nose. “Alright, everybody, get inside.”
“Sandy, keep the door shut when you’re not letting our people in,” Tina said to a light-haired, bronze-skinned girl by the entrance. “Nell, come with me.” Tina tugged Nell by the arm to a brightly lit restroom, filled with bodies pressed against the sinks where painted faces were touched up by practiced hands. “Make room, people.” Tina pushed a few girls to the side and tore paper towels from the roll. She wet the paper in a sink and wiped Nell’s lips. “Are you okay, honey?”
Nell nodded. “I think so.”
“Are you sure?” Tina’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to go to the hospital?”
Nell took stock. They felt the bruises, but was almost certain nothing was broken. They shook their head. “Nah, I feel better just being here.”
Tina tugged Nell into a hug. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Ready to leave the bathroom?”
Nell crooked a smile. “Yeah.” As Tina lead Nell onto a dance floor, they felt the strobe lights and the pounding music and the movement of the dancers fill them with a sense of calm. Finally, they had made it. Nell was home.
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