“We should get her some clothes that fit,” Fiona takes a bite of her eggs and waves a finger at me. “That dress is hanging off of her.”
Tori, as promised, came home with food; Bob Evan’s, actually. I didn’t even know that Bob Evans made ‘to go’ food, but I guess they do because I’ve got a small container of eggs, bacon, and biscuits and gravy sitting in front of me. I’m staring at it, unsure of what to eat first or if I even want to eat. I know the deal though: they’ll want me to eat. People like to keep their prisoners alive.

“We can do a shopping trip,” Tori agrees with her mouth full. She chews, swallows, and then finishes her thought. “I may get my mom to help, she’s going to need a lot of clothes.”

“Don’t forget the guest room,” Fiona waggles her fork in the air as if using it to make a point. “I bet you have a ton of old clothes in there.”

“Yeah,” Tori nods. “The highlights from ten years ago.”

“You think she cares?”

They’re talking about me as if I’m not even here, which is fine – at least I don’t have to answer any direct questions. I idly pick at the eggs, slowly moving them around the to-go container until I suddenly look up, making eye contact with Tori who tells me to start eating. I’m not really hungry, but I also don’t want to piss her off, so I begin to slowly eat the eggs as my mind becomes lost in a sea of thoughts and worries. What exactly were they planning to do with me? I should be listening to them instead of retreating inside myself but it’s so damn hard.
“Yo, Rylee,” Fiona says. I snap to attention, eyes wide as she addresses me directly. “Finish your food, I have to take you back to bed.”
“I’m…not tired,” I weakly protest. That’s a lie.

“Finish,” she thrusts her fork toward my food and gives me a stern look which immediately sets me about shoveling the biscuits and gravy into my mouth.

“She really does just do what she’s told,” Tori murmurs to Fiona, who nods, still watching me. “Is that like…a problem?”

“Pimps love people like her,” Fiona’s completely serious. “In fact I can guarantee you it’s happened, I did a physical exam.”

Tori nearly chokes on her food but whatever caught her by surprise is lost on me. I look at Fiona blankly and she simply finishes her food and checks her phone. She comments about having work today and Tori mentions that she herself took the day off. This whole thing is…weird. They’re talking about me, but they’re also talking about stupid stuff like work, and friends, and TV shows…just…normal conversation as if all of this is normal. As if Tori didn’t literally abduct me, as if Fiona isn’t helping her. Who are these people? I finish half of the food and the fork falls from my hand; I find myself staring down at the table, at my toes again. They’re sticking out of the rubbery bandage that Fiona has affixed to my feet, and while I can’t feel the pain right now, I know I will the moment I stand up. See, when I’d been bandaging it myself (with saran wrap, obviously), I’d bound it so tight that I could barely feel anything when I walked. Fiona hasn’t been quite so kind and I can’t get around the house without her help. That sort of puts any notions I have of escaping on the back burner.

“On the subject of physical exams,” Fiona comes right back around to the beginning of the conversation. “Tori, you and me? We need to compartmentalize this shit. You can’t take care of everything for her.”

“I…I can take care of myself,” I interject. They both look at me, and Fiona sarcastically tells me to walk across the living room and back if that’s the case.

“Compartmentalize it how?” Tori frowns. “You mean you want to help?”

“Duh, bitch,” Fiona rolls her eyes. “Of course I want to help. This is important to you, isn’t it? Don’t answer that, I know it is. Look, since I’m the nurse-”

“Nursing student,” Tori corrects her.

“-I want to be the one to do her physical stuff. Like examinations or whatever. Meds, doctor’s appointments, you know? You can…socialize her or whatever you want to do.”

“Uh-uh,” Tori shakes her head as she chews her last bite of hashbrowns. “You’ve got work, and school, way too much on your plate already. Nah I’ve got this.”

“Sorry Tori,” Fiona tells her. “I’m gonna insist. You called me over here to help and I’m not letting you take this on on your own. She gave me a list of meds earlier, I’m going to look into them.”

“Wait,” Tori frowns, suddenly looking to me, then back to Fiona. “A list of meds? What are you talking about?”

“Stuff for anxiety, blood pressure, ADHD, stuff like that. Nothing to worry about, I mean who doesn’t have anxiety these days?”

“And you can get all that?” Tori asks her. I look up.

“Yeah no problem,” Fiona shrugs. “It’ll cost, and eventually we’ll have to get her to a doctor, but she’s not really in any immediate danger other than from herself and you’ve got that part under control, right?”

Tori reluctantly agrees and as I finish my food, Fiona’s standing beside me, ready to take me to the bathroom and then back to the bedroom. I comment again that I don’t want to go to bed, and she literally laughs at me as she pulls the blankets back and helps me in. Unfortunately, she’s right; the moment I’m in the bed, and the moment the blankets are over me, I begin to feel drowsy. Fiona leaves momentarily but then returns with a glass of water and a red pill that I recognize as the Premarin that I’d had in my bag. My eyes widen as she hands it to me.
“You’re letting me take this?” I ask her incredulously.

“Yes?” Fiona frowns. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s obviously not your prescription but I know why you’re taking it and you have a good reason. There’s only one left, though, so I’m going to work on getting you something tomorrow. Um…Buspar is going to be hard without a prescription, but I think we can get your medical records pulled so you can see a new psychiatrist and get a script. Now as for the Premarin, for right now I’m going to substitute it with birth control-”

“Birth control?” I sit up suddenly, the glass of water sloshing; Fiona grabs my hand to keep me from spilling. “I can’t get pregnant!”

“Rylee, don’t make me laugh,” Fiona has a smirk playing at the edge of her lips like she’s enjoying this. “Birth control is estrogen. Premarin is estrogen. See where I’m going with this? I should have some left over, and after that we’ll see about a more permanent solution.”
“Fiona I…I don’t like-”

“You going to take that pill, or stare at it?” Fiona nods her head toward the red pill in my hand. I look at it, pop it in my mouth, and take a sip from the cup. Fiona tells me to finish the glass, so I do. “You don’t like what, Rylee?”

“The…permanent thing. You’re talking like…I’m not going to be leaving…like I’m being forced to stay here.”

“Apt assessment,” Fiona nods. “Tori’s not going to let you go, and I feel like it’s going to get a lot more…restrictive for you as you go. She doesn’t know you’re autistic yet but I’m thinking about telling her, and once she gets the full scope of what’s going on with you, you’ll be lucky if she lets you go outside by yourself.”

“Th- that’s not fair,” I feel the tears coming on again, and I shift beneath the blanket, wincing as pain ripples through my feet. “Fiona…I…yesterday I was some girl wandering around. I’m an adult, I can take care of myself. It’s…not fair that you’re suddenly treating me like a kid!”
Fiona laughs, hard. I look at her questioningly, and she waves her hand, motioning for me to wait a minute. Finally, her laughing fit passed, she speaks again. “Okay, you were taking care of yourself,” She snorts. “How was that going for you?”

“I was doing fine!” I protest. “I-”

“You’re malnourished, your feet were torn up and wrapped in plastic wrap, and you just got your ass handed to you by a chef. Now you’re here. Take a break, let us take care of you.”

There’s little more argument to be had; Fiona quickly shuts down my protests and then climbs off the bed. She rifles around a bookshelf for a few seconds and then brings me a worn-out paperback book. She hands it to me and I stare at the cover. Sweet Valley High: Secrets. By Francine Pascal. A girl book through and through. I look at up at Fiona who nods and excuses herself from the room, leaving me to lay in bed and question my entire life. The room is dark but not pitch black; if I want to I can click on the bedside lamp for reading, but right now, I’m just feeling completely despondent. The bedroom door is open and I can hear them talking out there. Are they talking about me? I crane my neck to hear but their voices seem muffled. I hear them thudding down the hall, Tori comes in first and she’s talking to Fiona about something at work, something about a kid named Marcus, and nepotism. She stops by the bed, tucks the blanket around me and pats my hand before leaving the room carrying a folder with Fiona in tow.

I feel useless, I want to get out of the bed, but with each microscopic movement I feel the pain of my enflamed feet threatening to topple me the moment I set them on the floor. Plus, Tori’s comforter is fucking heavy. I squirm a bit underneath it, and it holds me firmly in place. Sure, it would give if I pushed against it, but all in all, and I hate to admit it, but it feels good. So instead of wasting my energy trying to run, I switch on the lamp and open the book Fiona gave me.

Tori’s sitting at a desk near the door using her laptop. She doesn’t say much to me, probably notices I’m kind of lost in the ‘Sweet Valley High’ book which I’m about thirty pages into. But then, as it always happens, I find myself flipping back through the book, looking for references that I missed until I forget the plot completely. It’s so frustrating – I haven’t really been able to read in ages and I used to love books. Instead of forcing the issue, I set it off to the side and scoot myself up in the bed, laying my back against the headboard. I look at Tori; she’s typing away, an e-mail, I think, and she’s biting her lower lip like she always does. ‘Like she always does’? What kind of bullshit is that? It’s not like I know her. She stops typing, and then spins her chair around, placing her hands on her lap and leaning forward to look at me.

For a long moment we don’t speak, I do my best to keep eye contact but my eyes dart to the closet, to the bathroom door, to the window. Finally, and to my surprise, it’s me that speaks, and my voice sounds tiny.

“You’re going to take care of me?” It’s all I can manage to ask, and I see her shift in her chair, eyes sympathetic, demeanor calm. She nods.

“Yes, Rylee,” she says.

“I’m safe?”

“You are.”

The moment of silence that follows feels like it lasts for hours, even though I’m sure it was a few minutes at best. Slowly, I maneuver my eyes back to Tori; she hasn’t moved, she’s just sitting there, watching me, her laptop screen glowing behind her.

“I’m scared,” I tell her; my voice cracks, I clutch the comforter and push myself back against the headboard as my eyes threaten to fill with tears. I manage to keep it under control, but I sniff, hard, which she notices.

She nods. “I know you are, Rylee. I know. Nothing I say is going to make it easier, and nothing is going to make you believe that you’re truly safe, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

“Because I don’t have a choice,” I interject. She winces but quickly regains her composure.

“Yes, Rylee,” She nods. “Because you don’t have a choice.”

-If you dropped your voice a few octaves you’d have a choice.
Are you fucking kidding me?

My inner monologue is apparently feeling self destructive today.

“I have some questions for you,” She tells me. I watch her half-turn back to the writing desk and pick up a pad of paper and a pen. She turns back to me and sets the pad on her lap. “Do you have any family around here?”

“No,” I lie. Of course I do. My parents live in the city, Springfield, but I’ll be damned if they ever see me as a trans woman. It was hard enough to get away from them in the first place. Tori frowns. Does she know I lied?

“Okay, Rylee,” She shifts in her chair and taps the pen against the pad. “Honesty is going to be very important here. Let’s try again, okay? Do you have any family around here?”

“Y…yes,” I say, after a moment’s hesitation. Tori smiles.

“Good,” she says, writing something down on the notepad.

“Wait-” I interrupt, but she shushes me with a wave of her hand.

“I’m not going to make you go back to them,” she says quickly. “You’re not wandering around homeless and stealing canned food if you’re on good terms with them. I’m not going to delve into your trauma – that’s going to be my mom’s job, but, you seem like a pretty okay person, so I’m more inclined to blame them for whatever happened.”

I blink. For the first time in…well…years I feel validated. I’ve talked to so many people who simply say things like ‘Well you only get one set of parents, enjoy them while you have them!’ and ‘She’s your mother, you have to love her!’, but never had anyone taken my side. Not since Devin. Not since I’d stayed at his house the night before I left town, not since…ugh, I can’t remember. So many emotions swirling around inside me, so many thoughts. I’m still afraid of Tori, I’m still afraid of this situation. It’s not the first time I’ve been held captive and I can’t quell the rising storm inside me that suggests something bad is about to happen. But nothing’s happened. Not yet.

The only response I can muster for her is a simple ‘okay’, and she nods.

“Now, Rylee, I knew you lied a second ago because Fiona did a pretty extensive background check on you. She won’t give me all the details, but we know your parents live in Springfield, and we know you have no criminal background. You’re just…adrift, as far as we can tell. Now, since you left home, did you stay around Springfield?”

“Isn’t that in the background check?” I allow myself to spout a little bit of sarcasm, Tori laughs, but I recoil as I realize what I’ve done.

“It is not, in fact,” she smiles. “So why don’t you fill me in?”

I consider for a moment, and I feel at ease with her, for now, so I start talking, if only because I know she’s going to force if out of me if I don’t. I tell her a sanitized story about how I left home after meeting some people online. I don’t tell her that those people offered to help me with my transition. I tell her that I met up with them in real life, and I tell her that they seemed cool at first, but then things took a turn, and I found myself on the streets. I know Tori can sense that there’s more to the story but she doesn’t press. I know the questions are there on the tip of her tongue; she wants to know who I met up with and what happened to me while I was with them. She doesn’t ask. Not yet. Instead she asks:
“Where did you get those bruises?”

My left hand goes instinctively to my face; my fingertips dance lightly across the surface of the discolored skin, and then I drop it, closing my eyes and sucking in a breath as Tori watches me.

“I…just-”

“Don’t tell me you fell,” she says in a warning voice. “I’m going to ask you a very important question so listen closely. Those people that you went to stay with, the ones that you met on the internet. Did they hurt you?”

I part my lips a little, my breathing intensifies and then I close my mouth again, looking away from her, toward the window. After a few seconds of silence she speaks again.

“Rylee, I’m going to make you answer me every time,” she tells me. “Even if I have to pry. Just give me an answer.”

“Yes,” I nearly whisper. The moment the words leave my mouth, a torrent of tears assaults me vision. My eyes sting from salt and the moment I rub my eyes, I make it worse. Tori’s at my side in an instant gathering me up in a tight hug. At first I squirm, my ‘fight or flight’ in full effect, but then, after a few seconds, I melt into her hug, returning it and allowing my tears to flow freely. She’s rubbing my back; I squeeze tighter, suddenly aware of just how much I needed this, even if physical contact is at the bottom of my list of wants. We sit there like that for several minutes until finally I release the hug and she lets me pull away. She sits there, on the bed, watching me in silence before finally speaking to me.
“It’s okay,” she tells me. “It’s o-kay. Look, Rylee, you want to know what I think? I think you were raised in a shitty household, I think your parents let you down. I think you never really got a chance to grow up, and here you are, wandering the world, trying to figure things out and nothing’s really clicking. That’s not your fault, Rylee.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” she laughs, shaking her head and smiling. “It is most certainly not your fault.”

“I just…I just want to be normal,” I tell her. She smiles softly.

“We’ll get you there,” she tells me. “Or at least to whatever normal is to you. But, you’re going to need to do your part.”

No more internet. That’s her first rule. The internet is what got me into this situation, so why should I be using it? It makes sense on a fundamental level, but there was a time when the internet was my ‘safe space’, and it sucks having it so close but being unable to use it. The second rule is that I have to listen. Seems pretty simple. Third rule? I have to take care of myself. She’s having Fiona pick some stuff up on the way back after her shift. A toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, skin cleanser, a razor, whole mess of things. I hope to god that Fiona remembers there’s a dude under all this, and that she buys stuff accordingly.

I spend most of the day in bed with Tori frequently checking on me as she buzzes around the house cleaning, watching TV, or checking her e-mail. I get the feeling she’d rather be at work. Did she take the day off for me, or something? I’m afraid to ask. At one point she comes in to tell me that she plans to clean out the guest bedroom so that I have a place to sleep, but right now it’s full of boxes from her last move. I tell her not to worry about it. Despite our ‘connection’, I have zero intention of staying here. Then again I know that’s a lie. I don’t even know how I would get away from her, or Fiona. My feet will eventually heal, probably in a few days, but there’s no way I could overpower either of them, and they could both catch me pretty easily if I tried to run.

-You’re being stupid, my inner voice chides.
Say that to my face.
-Don’t you want someone to take care of you? Isn’t this the ideal scenario?
I’m scared.
-Aren’t you fucking always.

I push my thoughts aside as Tori returns and asks me if I’d like to go out to the couch. I nod and she takes the blanket off of me. It’s a long, painful walk down the hallway even with Tori supporting my weight with her shoulder, but she deposits me easily on the couch, giving me a blanket and a pillow, which I use to make myself more comfortable. She brings me another TV dinner which I accept gratefully, and then she sits down on the couch with me. We watch ‘The Price is Right’, and an episode of ‘General Hospital’ which I’m less than interested in. Then, we watch an episode of Jerry Springer featuring a trans woman who recently came out to her boyfriend. I watch Tori’s face, looking for any indication of how she might feel about that, but her expression is stoic, like she’s just watching an episode of daytime television. Well that makes sense, because she is.

“Fiona’s going to crash on the couch for a few days,” she says to me as the daytime trash television begins to wrap up. “I know I told her I didn’t need help, but…I’m glad she’s decided to anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I know I’m-”

“No,” she says sharply. “You don’t apologize for that. Don’t apologize for anything unless I tell you to, understand?”

“Yes, Tori,” I say obediently. She frowns.

“A little formal there, Rylee,” she tells me. “Just say okay, like a normal person.”

“Sor- I mean, um, okay.”

Fiona comes back eventually. Her blonde hair is disheveled and her scrubs are filthy. She lets out a huge sigh and sits heavily on the couch beside me before passing me a plastic bag. It’s filled with the promised items, including a three-pack of gaffs. I mouth a ‘thank you’ to her and she nods.

“Also,” Fiona says. “I got you some pills. I can’t get you anxiety meds but I got something for your blood pressure, and some Vitamin C tablets.”
She hands me a multi-colored pill organizer. Sure enough, there’s the vitamin C tablets; they look like clear capsules full of dirt, if I’m being honest. The other pill is small and blue. I look at her questioningly and she nods. Yep, this isn’t blood pressure medication, it’s the birth control she talked about. Fiona’s given me hormone meds. At least now I can take them regularly. The pill organizer has enough for a week, and she tells me that she’ll be back to refill it when I run out. So, Tori thinks that these are for blood pressure. Fantastic.

Fiona finally stands up and joins Tori in the kitchen; they start to prepare dinner as the TV plays some old sitcom in the background. I listen to Fiona bitching about work, something about a code where no one ‘knew what to do’. Tori talks about going back to work tomorrow but glances warily at me, and I wonder if I’m some kind of obstacle. I don’t have a chance to ask and why the hell would I? They’re the ones keeping me here.

“Hey,” Fiona says to her as she’s chopping vegetables. “What about Penelope?”

“What about her?” Tori asks.

“She’s going back to work in a week I think, and she’s going to need a babysitter, maybe Rylee…”

“Is that even a good idea?” Tori asks her, wide-eyed.

“You wanted to socialize her,” Fiona points out. “Seems like a good start.”

“Um, I’ll ask Penelope about it,” Tori says. “But…I don’t want her to run off. I mean…”

“I truly don’t think you have to worry about that,” Fiona tells her.

I’m sorry, did Fiona just volunteer me for babysitting? This day is getting weirder by the second. I wish it would stop.

Dinner is a combination of Shake-N-Bake chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. They both help me over to the table, and I’m beginning to resent being so helpless. Then I remember they made me this way, so why was I sorry? After they sit me down, Tori asks me if I’d prefer water or soda, and I choose soda. She brings me a can of Pepsi and I force myself to smile as I thank her.

“So uh, Rylee,” Tori says as we sit down to dinner. “A few more things I need to know…what are your hobbies?”

“My…my hobbies?” I furrow my brow. Why is she asking about this? “I um…I like to play video games, I guess. I used to like to read but I can’t remember the story sometimes. I mean like, while I’m reading it. I just forget, so I stopped reading a bunch. But I used to like to.”

Tori’s face bunches up with concern, Fiona just stares at me. I immediately lean back, cowering in my chair. Did I say something wrong?

“Okay, Rylee,” Tori says slowly, as if she’s chewing over the thought in her mind. “We’ll work on the reading, that sounds like it’s really difficult for you. Um, the other thing? I have a Super Nintendo in the guest bedroom, I’ll just have to dig it out.”

“Speaking of the guest bedroom,” Fiona says. “Are you going to clear that out for her? She can’t keep sleeping in your bed.”

Fiona’s right about that; it’s only a matter of time before I poke Tori with my dick and this is all over. Well, actually, that might be a good thing. I wanted to leave, right? Right?

“I’ll start on it tomorrow, after work,” Tori shrugs. “But I’ll be lucky to just find the Nintendo. I don’t have anywhere to put all that stuff.”

“Throw it away,” Fiona shrugs. “When was the last time you used any of it? Since you moved out of Max’s place?”

“Whose Max?” I ask suddenly. They both snap to me, giving me a sharp look.

“Never you mind who Max is,” Fiona says dryly. I let the matter drop. “Point is, Tori, you moved out of the big house, now you’ve gotta get rid of the ‘big house’ crap. You’ve got a whole ass flea market going on in there. And, also, it’s not fair for Rylee to not have her own space. She’s already having a hard time.”

I stare incredulously at Fiona – since when did she care about my wellbeing? But, the moment passes as quickly as it came as she and Tori continue talking about the room, and then ask me a few more questions about myself. My favorite food, favorite TV show(both of them are amused when I say ‘Star Trek’), and I make a passing mention of chess, to which Tori promises to get me a board.

When we wrap up dinner, I’m thoroughly exhausted, even though I haven’t really moved at all today. As I sit there at the table, I start to feel my eyelids drooping and my head occasionally falling forward. Each time it happens, I look up at Fiona and Tori wide-eyed, thinking one of them are going to say something, or yell something, but to my surprise, nothing of the sort happens. Fiona simply asks if I’m tired, and I nod. She rises from the table and helps me to the bathroom where I once again strip and change into a nightgown and one of the new gaffs Fiona bought me.

“Doesn’t it suck to wear that to sleep?” she asks me.

“Yeah, it does,” I say as I pull them up and begin to tuck. “But what do you want me to do?”

“Tell her.” Fiona shrugs.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” She asks me.

“Because if…ugh. If she knows she’s not going to see me as a girl anymore. I’ll just be…some tranny that broke into her house.”
Fiona studies me for a moment and then grabs a basket of supplies from under the sink. She removes the bandages from my feet using a pair of scissors; it doesn’t hurt as bad this time. She instructs me to put my feet in the tub, and I look away as she gently washes them, then pours hydrogen peroxide over the sores.

I hate this.
I hate that she’s doing it.
I hate that Tori is taking care of me.
I hate the way this makes me feel.
I hate that I need it.