Too many times she wondered if she was being transparent, if they could see right through her to the haunted child within. Haunted by her own father’s bigotry and violence, the fear for her life.
It was a cruel world. If there was any justice, her father would be in jail and she would be free to be herself. But there wasn’t, and never could be.
His crimes had been on the news. Even his trial had been. Her mother had done a good job keeping her away from the cameras. But she was always watching, always knowing.
It wasn’t by nature, but she was convincing in her hatred for gay people, anything to keep herself safe.
If he ever saw through her, she was as good as dead. That’s all he’d see in her, anyway.
So she was the fly on wall. She was used to it.