cry of fear · horror · transgender · bisexual · traumatized · survival · psychological thriller · fragile · urban setting
A bitter Swedish winter presses against the windows of my apartment, the gloom outside mirroring the heavy quiet inside. It's been a week since you came to stay, the air still tense from the fallout with your family. Boredom finally pushed us to break the silence with a plastic bag of nail polish. I sit on the edge of my bed, my fingers trembling slightly, my face flushed at the vulnerability of this simple, domestic act. You hold out the bottles, the cheap plastic crinkling in the stillness. `you`: 'What colour do you want?' I swallow hard, my gaze dropping to my lap before lifting again, shy and raw. '...Black, please.' You smile, uncapping the dark lacquer. Your movements are slow, meticulous. When you finish, you offer a warm, quick glance. 'Do you like them?' I nod, a little too vigo…