Sunrise

Disclaimer: The characters featured in the following story are over the age of 18.

SUNRISE

With the door locked, Kiki was free to be herself. The sanctuary of her room afforded her a place to pretend for a few short hours that the outside world didn't exist. Her mother and father, her brother, none of them existed here. This was her Le Marais, her Schöneberg, her Haight, and her Soho. Even though she kept it nondescript and as ordinary as she could; inconspicuous; with the door firmly shut and the lamp casting its soft shadows, with a scarf over the shade it became her palace of secrets.

She looked into the mirror at her reflection. Her hair was finally long enough now that she could tie it up while at home. Months and months of wetting it and wearing it slicked back, disguising it, ignoring the requests to get it cut, had come to fruition. She freed it from the elasticated hairband and felt a rush of relief as it covered her face. She brushed it slowly, relishing the sensation. She loved that she was able to bring it to her nose and absorb its smells now. That she could put it in her mouth and nuzzle it to help her sleep.

Kiki thought for a few long minutes about the nail varnish. Not the colour, it was always going to be black, but the effort required, the commitment. She loved painting her nails, and desperately wanted to tonight, but the lacquer would have to be removed before she left her room. Which made it seem like a waste. De la merde, she needed the practice.

With slow, deliberate movements, shaky and sloppy at first, she ran the small brush over her nails. By the time she started on the fingers of the second hand her strokes were more assured and even, not even needing a second coat.

Waiting for them to dry she pecked at the keyboard of her computer carefully. The machine was old, a hand-me-down from her brother, but it served her well. When she'd first gotten it she didn't know what to do, finding herself staring at the monitor vacantly with a sense of desperate need, an itch, but no way to satisfy it.

Eventually she explored. Solitaire became her lifeline, a way to mentally calm her after a particularly long and excruciating day at school. Notepad became her diary, and a place to write poetry and stories. With experience came bravery and she discovered the internet, and her world slowly changed.

Music was suddenly there for her in a way it had never been before. At first she would spend her time tracking down songs she remembered from her youth, then artists she had always wanted to hear, then as her tastes developed, into more dangerous territory. Music her parents had forbidden her from listening to.

Likewise for movies and television. When she picked up on the means of pirating media she suddenly had access to everything she could ever desire, and threw herself into an ocean of information, wanting to drown herself in it all.

With discovery came realisation. The nagging sense of otherness that had hounded her since the age of six was given the means to grow. The understanding that within her was another person, a whole other being. Her trueself slowly began to rise to the surface.

She opened up her social media and looked for updates from her friends. Several of the community she belonged to had posted new Instagram pictures, and she opened them one by one to marvel over, diligently clicking the little heart icon under each to leave a like. She had her own Instagram naturally, but never posted her face. The few pictures she'd had the courage to upload were fully clothed shots from the neck down, taken with a decades old digital camera. She hoped one day to be in the same place as the more confident girls, but for the time being she was happy just having somewhere to belong.

Activity on the Discord server was slow tonight, so Kiki left the music playing and went back to her dressing table. As she applied some eyeshadow there was a knock at the door making her jump. Even though the music wasn't particularly loud she turned it down, hoping that was all it was about.

"Samir? Madha tafiel?" The voice of her mother was like a bucket of cold water down her back.

Despite living in England where her family had moved to several years ago, her mother still spoke her native language whenever possible. Even in France where she had lived since moving from Algeria she clung to her roots. Kiki couldn't even recall her speaking a single word of French. Now she haltingly used a few words of English, finally, reluctantly, adapting, but in this house it was strictly Arabic.

"What is it, mama?" She replied, with a sick, rolling sensation unfolding in her belly.

"Can you come to the door please? I want to speak to you."

Kiki quickly used a pad to undo the small amount of make-up on her eyes, and tied her hair up into a bun. She couldn't do anything about the nails so elected to keep her hands out of sight.

"What is it, mama? I was just getting ready for bed," she opened the bedroom door to find her mother's stern face waiting for her.

"Tomorrow you must visit the pharmacy and pick up my prescription."

Her mother had been repeating the same request about fifty times a day for the last week. "I know, mama. I remember."

"Do not forget. I must have my medication. And wear a mask please."

"Okay, mama." Kiki spied that her mother held something in her hands.

Noticing Kiki's gaze, it was suddenly thrust at her. Unfurling it nervously she saw it was one of her t-shirts. Not paying attention during the last pile of laundry gathering, Kiki must have picked up the Nine Inch Nails shirt accidentally.

"You will not wear such things in my house."

If only she knew, thought Kiki. "Yes, mama."

Her mother pursed her lips. "Take that smile off your face. You are lucky I didn't throw it in the-"

Suddenly the silence became deafening. Kiki looked up, and with dawning panic noticed her mother was staring into her room. She had left the computer monitor on, and Instagram was still open on one of the pictures of her friends.

"Is that pornography?"

Realising honesty would probably serve her better this time, she risked a glance over her shoulder and shook her head. "No, mama. One of my friends is a model. She likes to show off sometimes." Kiki hoped their femininity was passable enough in her mother's eyes to not raise even more difficult questions.

"I do not want you looking at such filth. I shall be having words with your father. If this disgusting behaviour continues you will have no computer." With that said, she turned and left Kiki standing in shock in the doorway. "And no more locked doors, not in my house."

The words were in her throat, burning to escape. Kiki wanted to scream them out. Instead she swallowed them. Again and again she pushed them down, transforming it into a hot ball of resentment in her belly.

Turning to retreat back into her cocoon she saw her older brother looking out through the crack in the door to his own room, smiling cruelly. He saw the image on her screen and laughed quietly to himself. There was no fooling him. He was mouthing a word to her, probably something derogatory, but she didn't want to know what it was.

She closed the door quietly and went back to her dresser. Screwing her face up, with her eyes tightly closed she refused to cry. With a sweep of her hand Kiki pushed the make-up into the waste paper basket. It didn't feel anywhere near as stress relieving as she'd hoped.

The PM notification on the screen pinged and flashed. Her friend Adrienne had sent her a message. They'd never met, but had been in contact with each other for many months now, and though she could never tell her, Kiki thought she was in love with her.

The message was another request to meet up. This was impossible, Kiki was unable to leave her room, how was she supposed to go out into the world as herself?

She looked at the collection of little glass bottles, pencils and brushes in the bin and felt guilty. They were so lovely she couldn't bear to throw them away. She fished them out with a sigh and rearranged them on the dresser.

Feeling braver, angry at her mother, she typed a response to Adrienne agreeing to meet.

After hitting 'send' she pushed away from her desk and stood up. What was she thinking? Kiki held herself in the middle of the room and wondered how she was going to pull this off. Merde, She'd make up a last minute excuse, she wasn't feeling well or something. Adrienne would forgive her.

Double checking the door was locked she got undressed, examining her thin, boyish frame in the mirror. She wished she had curves, hating her androgyny. Covering her chest and squeezing her thighs together she tried to pose and smile, not quite pulling it off, and feeling terribly fake.

Under the bed Kiki kept a locked suitcase. Locks were important to her. Inside she kept her nice clothes. As she got dressed she started to feel like she was climbing a hill, out of breath, the crest in sight, a feeling of complete accomplishment that only comfort of this kind could bring.

This wasn't sexual. Perhaps it had been once, in the sense that teenage exploration would inevitably lead to some place arousing, didn't it always back then? but this was a different kind of release. This was pure, and true. And it was hers.

Complete, she lay down on the bed in her dress and stared up at the ceiling of her room. Beyond it she imagined the stars. The same stars were visible in Algeria, in France, and here in the UK. The same stars were visible for everyone, but right now, in this moment they were her stars alone.

As Kiki sucked on her hair, she drifted into a relaxed doze. She fantasised about being greeted at the pub by all her friends, swimming in the compliments, buoyed by their acceptance. She smiled at the thought of escaping, living in a place of her own with a wardrobe full of clothes. Free of her mother. She knew there was a future ahead. It looked as distant as another country right now, but she could see it when she half closed her eyes. A job, a home, a boyfriend, a life. All possible, there was a place for her if she could endure the wait. The sun would rise.

Kiki dreamed.

'If I believed the world were to end tomorrow, I would still plant a tree today.' - German proverb.