My eyes slowly adjust to the dull light overhead. I extend my arms while taking in my surroundings. I try to remember where I am when Nurse Edith enters the room smiling.

“It worked!”

“It worked?” I reply confused.

“We successfully removed most of your penis.”

I bring my hand towards my pelvic area and alas, no longer feel a bulge.

“It worked,” I say, smiling with relief.

“We just need to finish up some paperwork as well as issue a new order of prescriptions. After that, you should be on your way. What would you like us to call you?”

Ahh. My name. Even before considering surgery, I imagined all the feminine names I would enjoy being called.

Michelle, as in Michelle Obama or Michelle Williams

Sasha, as in Sasha Fierce, my true spirit animal

Daenerys as in Queen Daenerys, Lady of Dragonstone and Protector of Seven Kingdoms from Game of Thrones

Truth be told, any name would do except for Anthony, the title I have been bearing for the past twenty years. I get it, it was my deceased grandfather’s name but from what I have heard, I don’t think he would approve of his grandson wearing dresses or… becoming a woman.

My parents, on the other hand, have been very supportive. They swore that they knew from the moment I insisted on being a cowgirl for Halloween because I wanted to wear a dress and a wig. It’s only been two years since I told them, despite having these feelings for as long as I can remember. I feared they would dismiss my feelings as childish if I had told them any sooner. When I mentioned wanting surgery, the only worry they seemed to have was the price. And I couldn’t blame them. Between the medicine and the actual procedure, the cost would be around $50,000.

But my desire for this was not like the way one wants a new computer or car. I needed this surgery to survive. For so many years, I had waken up upset and disappointed. When I was still in elementary school, each night, I prayed to God that I could wake up as a girl. That way I could play dolls without being laughed at and sit at lunch with the girls who also liked Icarly. As I got older, the feeling of not belonging intensified. Every time I tried to express myself, I would tell myself that I shouldn’t. My clothes didn’t fit, I tensed up when someone referred to me as “bro”. I walked through the hallways lacking a purpose and didn’t see why the world even needed someone so abnormal as me.

So, when I first read that surgery was possible, I cried. It had only taken ten years but God had answered my prayers. I told my parents I’d get a job and dedicate all my savings to undergoing the procedure. I also chose to attend a state school even though with my 1560 on the SAT, I could have attended a private, but much more costly, institution. My wonderful parents chipped in a decent amount and one year later, I sat with Nurse Edith for my consolation.

A lot of estrogen and anti-androgens later, I am here. I’ve already ordered plenty of underwear from Victoria Secret and different dresses to hopefully compliment my curves.

“It’s a tough choice, isn’t it? I’ve always loved the name Lily. I was going to name my child Lily but he came out a boy!” Nurse Edith chuckled.

“He could still be Lily, right?” I winked.

Edith gave an endearing smile and as though she was taking my order at Mcdonalds asked, “So, what will it be?”

“Annalise.”

“I love it” Edith grinned. “Any reason why?”

“Well, to make it a little easier on my parents I wanted to keep the “An”. And, Annalise Keating from “How to Get Away with Murder” embodies all that I want to be in my new life. She is confident, intelligent, and makes me proud to be a woman.”

“Ok Annalise, I will be back for you in a moment.”

I put on my lacy underwear, my pink training bra, my Forever 21 dress, and a wig (as my hair has not yet fully grown). I use my iPhone front-camera as a mirror to apply lipstick and mascara.

“Here is everything you need. For the first few months, you are going to need to return to the hospital so we can ensure the surgery went okay. It will be a little annoying but”

I interrupted. “I don’t care. Yesterday I was in a body that wasn’t mine. For the first time in twenty years, I am excited to take a walk. I don’t mind coming back to the hospital especially if I can wear a dress.”

“Where whatever you want. See you in two weeks” Edith chirped.

I slowly exited the hospital, taking everything differently. I am now living my life as a woman. Will my dress pull a Marilyn Monroe and fly up if there is a rush of wind? Will I be the victim of the hideous cat-call? Will I get to strut the streets like Beyonce in her truest form?

I reach in my bag to call my mom.

I hear a man exclaim, “Excuse me, miss” and keep walking. “Excuse me, miss.” Wow, whoever he is talking to must be clueless.

Then I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn. “Excuse me, miss. You dropped this.” He hands me a crumpled dollar bill.

My eyes begin to water. “May I hug you?” I stammer.

“It’s only a dollar ma'am” he admits as I wrap my arms around him.

If only he knew.

I spun the knife over my fingers, seeing only a flash of metal every few seconds. I watched it intently. The girl whimpered. The small sound broke my focus and sent the knife flying towards my face. I ducked and heard the thunk! as it lodged itself in the wall. I slowly turned to it. Up to the hilt.

I pulled it out and spun around to the girl. Her eyes widened as I stalked closer. In a flash, I had the knife to her throat. She made a small sound that I can only describe as a squeak. My grin grew wider as I put my mouth to her ear.

“Beg for your life,” I whispered. She remained silent, tears rolling down her face. I slid the knife closer. It was touching now. Silence. I pushed deeper, a single drop of blood beading on the knife.

”Please,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. I smiled and drew the knife away, licking the blood off. She looked at me, eyes still wide. I paced around her for a few seconds and drove the knife home without hesitation.

I fell to my knees and sobbed, wondering why I’d done it. But my actions were a broken record, on an endless repeat. I sobbed harder as I looked at her limp body, still tied to the chair.