What’s the darkest thing a family member has ever done to you?

The Ghost of a Son

My parents forced me to live as their dead son for 15 years, so I escaped and never looked back. A year later, my mom showed up, begging for the daughter she threw away.

My parents chose my gender for me, and now I want to switch back. It all started when I was 5, and I noticed them calling me Andrew instead of Amelia.

They started dressing me in polo shirts and other boys clothing. Since I didn’t have any siblings, I thought it was normal. In fact, I played along.

I let them cut my hair super short and corrected anyone who used she her pronouns. My parents decorated my bedroom walls with NBA posters and action figures.

It was around this time that I learned that getting my parents to love me was infinitely more important than what I wanted. So, when I wanted to play with Barbie dolls and have sleepovers with my female friends, I didn’t care.

I figured eventually those worldly desires could be extracted from my body and eventually my dream could come true to be the son my parents always wanted. So, even when I started elementary school, I used the boys bathrooms.

I even remember attempting to use the urinal. Naturally, this led to a few questions arising, but I’d always shut them down with authority and tell them this is just how things are. Or at least as much authority as a 7-year-old can humanly possess, lol.

Eventually, I think my teachers actually started believing I was a boy because the questions faltered and somehow I managed to join the boy’s football team.

I hid myself in secret whenever I heard any girlish giggle or tone come out of my mouth because the more masculine I became, the more my parents loved me.

I remember being in the peak of my boyhood when literally anyone I interacted with told me I was the best son a parent could ask for. My parents practically treated me like a king.

Every day I’d wake up to a home-cooked breakfast in bed with homemade strawberry lemonade and a surprise toy that I’d circled in my catalog. It was the best feeling ever.

Fast forward to when I turned 15 and got my first period. I genuinely thought I was dying because no one had ever introduced me to the concept of female puberty before.

I frantically ran into my mom’s room to tell her what happened, expecting her to call an ambulance or something. Instead, her face turned ghost white, so I lunged at her for a hug.

“Get away from me!”

she screamed before curling up into a ball and having a mental breakdown. That’s when my dad barged into the room.

“Honey, what the f is going on? Andrew just got his period.”

As soon as she told him, he grabbed my wrist, dragged me into another room, and locked the door.

“Amelia, I need to tell you something.”

It was the first time my dad had ever called me Amelia, so I knew it was serious.

“You may have noticed by now that you aren’t exactly a boy.”

I nodded in relief. It was a truth that I had waited to be acknowledged for a very long time. And that’s when all the pieces of the puzzle finally came together.

Turns out I did have an older sibling, a brother, one that my parents were extremely excited to raise. But there were complications during his birth, and my mom had a miscarriage.

My dad tried to convince her to take some time off work and let herself grieve, but she refused. And instead she kept pushing my dad to put a baby inside her.

So when they found out I was a girl, all the grief that my mom had suppressed resurfaced and the only way my dad combed it was by raising me as Andrew instead of Amelia.

That’s when my dad broke down in tears. It was one of those extremely painful sobs and I could tell he was just letting everything out.

I froze, the truth hitting me like a punch to the chest. My entire life had been built on the ashes of a brother I never knew existed.

Still, I was somewhat relieved that my facade was finally over because I wanted nothing more than for my parents to love me for who I was until my dad proceeded to take my silver lining and shut all over it.

“Son, I need you to keep being Andrew for a while, just until you move out. Think of it as a favor to your mother.”

“A favor?”

I snapped.

“I’ve been living my entire effing life hating myself for who I was. All because of you.”

My dad’s eyes were instantly filled with sorrow. I knew he was just trying to keep the peace and make everyone happy, but enough was enough.

I barged out of the room and that’s when I was faced with my mom.

“Andrew, are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m not doing this anymore, Mom. This isn’t right. I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t keep suffering.”

She looked like she had just been slapped in the face. I immediately left the house and went on a little shopping spree with the money from my babysitting job.

For the first time, I bought exactly what I wanted: dresses, skirts, heels, and I looked damn good, too. Unfortunately, my mother disagreed.

I tried to be quiet when I got home, but still, she heard me. She grabbed the nearest pair of kitchen scissors and started cutting through the dresses.

“This is not who you are. I will not allow this.”

This time, I didn’t even feel sad or angry, just scared.