Capítulo 1: The Weight of Expectations
The ball thudded against the wooden court with a rhythm that should have been comforting. Each bounce echoed like a heartbeat, the only sound in a world that had long since turned its back on me.
I spun the ball lazily in my hands, feeling the rough texture graze my calloused fingertips, the cool air of the gym clinging to my skin like a damp reminder of how little space I truly occupied here.
Sweat clung to my forehead, the sharp scent of it mingling with the faint smell of floor polish and the rubber soles of sneakers. It was late.
Everyone else had gone home, leaving me alone with my thoughts, my insecurities, and this court my sanctuary. Here, in the faint hum of flickering fluorescent lights, I could breathe, if only for a moment.
I glanced down at myself, my baggy sweatpants hanging loosely off my hips, the oversized hoodie doing its best to hide the lean muscle underneath.
My hair, cropped short, was plastered to my scalp, beads of sweat running down the back of my neck. It was a far cry from the expectations others had for me the vision of what a "proper" woman should look like.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glossy surface of the court, distorted by the faint haze of perspiration.
Strong shoulders, sharp eyes, a jawline that had always felt too angular for comfort. In this body, I was powerful. In this body, I could leap, sprint, and fight. But outside this court? It was different. Outside, I was nothing more than an oddity.
The taunts still echoed in my mind, as if the walls themselves had absorbed the words, letting them seep back out whenever I was alone.
"Ren, why don't you wear something that doesn't look like your brother's clothes?"
"You're pretty… for a guy."
"Why can't you act more like a girl? No wonder no one wants to hang out with you."
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, gritting my teeth. It didn't matter how many times I heard it; it never stopped cutting deep.
The truth was, I didn't fit in never had, never would. No matter how fast I ran or how high I jumped, I couldn't escape the expectations that dragged me down like weights tied to my ankles.
I dribbled the ball again, the motion automatic, each bounce a sharp punctuation to the anger building inside me. My muscles ached from practice, but it was a good pain, one that made me feel alive, even when the rest of my life was crumbling around me.
Here, on the court, I was strong. Here, I didn't need to conform to anyone's standards. But as soon as I stepped outside those doors, everything would come crashing back. The stares, the whispers, the constant judgment for not being feminine enough, pretty enough. It was exhausting.
I could still hear their laughter from earlier that day, my classmates in their neat uniforms, their hair styled just right, their perfect smiles hiding the poison in their words.
They looked at me like I was some kind of alien, an intruder in their carefully curated world of beauty and grace.
The fact that I didn't care about makeup, that I didn't spend hours in front of the mirror trying to look "presentable," made me an outsider.
My heart pounded as I remembered the looks they gave me in the locker room, the way they whispered behind my back when they thought I couldn't hear. But I always heard. Every. Single. Time.
The ball slipped from my hands, and I let it roll away, coming to a stop against the wall. I stood there, my breath coming in shallow gasps, the cold gym air doing little to cool the heat rising beneath my skin.
Why did I keep doing this to myself? Why did I care what they thought? I was strong. I was fast. I was everything I needed to be… but it never felt like enough. Not to them. Not to anyone.
I sank to the floor, my legs splayed out in front of me, the cold surface of the court pressing against the backs of my thighs.
My chest heaved as I stared up at the ceiling, the dull hum of the lights above buzzing like the noise in my head. I could almost hear my parents' voices now, layered with disappointment.
"Ren, why can't you be more like your sister?"
"You could do so much better if you tried harder."
"Your grades aren't good enough. You're not good enough."
It didn't matter that I was top of the team, that I pushed myself harder than anyone else. All they saw were my failures the classes I didn't ace, the feminine image I didn't present, the expectations I failed to meet.
The air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I could feel the weight of everything of everyone bearing down on my shoulders. I wanted to scream, to tear at my skin until the pain on the outside matched the hurt inside.
But instead, I just sat there. Silent. Numb.
After a while, I pulled myself to my feet, every movement stiff, my muscles protesting. My limbs felt like lead, but I didn't have the luxury of rest. I had to go home. Had to face them. Again.
I grabbed my gym bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I trudged toward the door. The gym was quiet now, the echoes of earlier games and shouts faded into the background hum of late evening.
Outside, the sky had darkened, the city lights blinking like distant stars. The world moved on, indifferent to the turmoil swirling inside me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I didn't have to look to know who it was. My mother, checking if I was coming home soon. Always checking, always expecting. With a sigh, I pulled it out, glancing at the message.
"Don't be late again, Ren. We need to talk about your grades."
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket, my heart sinking. There was always something. Always another way I was falling short.
I turned the corner of the gym, heading toward the crosswalk, barely aware of the cars zooming past. My body moved on autopilot, my mind elsewhere, drowning in the suffocating weight of everything I could never be.
And then, in an instant, everything changed.
I didn't see the car. I didn't hear it coming. One moment, I was crossing the street, lost in my thoughts, and the next, there was a screech of tires, the blinding glare of headlights, and the deafening sound of metal smashing into flesh.
Pain. Blinding, white-hot pain shot through my body, searing every nerve, every muscle. And then... nothing.
I was on the ground, staring up at the sky, the cold pavement pressing against my back. My chest heaved, the breath rattling in my lungs.
I couldn't move. I couldn't feel anything but a distant, throbbing ache. My vision blurred, the edges of the world fading to black.
But for the first time in my life... I felt relief.
It was over. The expectations. The pressure. The constant need to be something I wasn't. It was all fading away, slipping through my fingers like sand.
As the darkness closed in, I let out a long, shuddering breath. The tension in my body melted away, replaced by a strange, numbing peace. I was free.
Finally, I was free.
And then... nothing.
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