the louse

ive been reincarnated twice.

This is my idea of it, after analyzing everything i could about what happened and how it happened.

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Cymothoa exigua.

I was born as a theriform tongue-eating louse in this life. Female, around 1 inch in length. I took my first victim. He was a California grunion.

He had nothing going for him anyway, at least that's how I rationalized it. It was okay because he too had a choice. Up or Down. It was okay because my choice was hunger. Vampire. A Parasite.

I don't remember how I died in this life. Only that I met many faces, swam places, infesting groups at a time with others, destroying lives for.. food. To survive. That's all it was. To survive. I did what I had to do in order to survive and that was it. I was happy that way because I was alive. That's all that ever mattered. 

I was a parasite, that was my job. So I am not surprised to see how it morphed over time into my next life.

Homo sapiens.

I was born a human in this life. Male, 5'10, around 180 lbs. I wasn't raised to be a wuss, or to cry, but I wanted so badly to. Poor, down on luck, forgotten by a lot of society. So I distanced myself and got worse. Of course I did.

Leaving behind social creatures because they're not "right" or because they're not "mentally well" causes problems. You begin to hate yourself and your own kind.

You begin to think of yourself as nothing. But he came to me. It seems so clear, we were destined to be together. 

He called me "Jim," I called him "Curly". I kept it straightforward because I knew his history. JROTC in Highschool, wannabe American, British freak of nature. I knew what he wanted to do. Fit in. And he fit in more than me. He was better, he was cooler, he was everything that everyone wanted.

So I told him that I'd talk to him later. And we didn't talk for 13 years after school. By then, I had gotten a piss poor job. I had eaten myself bags of blood and needles, making HRT in my kitchen, hoping that transition fixes whatever fucked up idea I had in my head to be someone I'm not. So I took my first dose of Estrogen. I didn't want to be a girl, I wanted to be soft. To be able to cry. To be able to have a body that was so.. weird that I could finally find a reason for people to hate me so much.

But I never wanted to be a boy either. So much so that I tucked everyday and I kept my growing chest out. I wanted to pass as one of those gymbro girlies that simply looked masculine and doesn't shave. I used my ethnicity as a reason to why I have more hair than my cisgender white counterparts. I wasn't a woman or a man and I didn't like being seen as something I wasn't. So when I heard the term "nonbinary", I had.. I had to use it. But it was always a secret then.

After 13 years. I got money and I got Curly back. Midnight. He's thinking "I miss him". And my phone rings and I pick it up and I pick it up and because I picked it up, I'm here.
He told me he hates his job.

That we should drink at that bar we used to sit in the back of.
He tells me that he keeps trying to get fired but they won't let him go.

Tells them that he needs breaks. Takes real long ones without notice. Still scheduled to work.

He is not reprimanded.

He is a hard worker. That is all they want.

So we go drinking.

And we party.And we reconnect.We talk about our decade absence. I talk about being 5 years on estrogen. I talk about my hair, make excuses to why I'm not a woman or a man.

No, he doesn't care. He's been talking about space and the stars. He talks about how he was given an opportunity to ride into space for the first time.I tell him to do it.

He tells me he hates his job.I tell him the same too.
We almost hold hands. We almost touch.Hell, he drunkenly dances with me in a bar we know is for the gays. Why else would he bring me here?

It's safer than a straight bar. He's not even gay, he's not even interested in anyone besides an object he can't let go. That damn stuffed animal. The one with holes in it from his father's dog, Veterok. He'd tell me they're not that bad and fixed them up. Though, I'm sure I've seen him do worse.

He'd say, "Jim, you look nice", and I'd tell him that I'm not wearing my best. He'd say that he can take himself home. He call a cab. We both take to his place. I tell him that he's too much for me. I make sure he's inside. And He tells me, "Jim, I need you on that ship."

He wakes up in the morning to tell me the same thing. He wants me on that ship. I can't comprehend it. Being wanted. Being able to heal someone. Being able to comfort him so much that he'd want me to go there.

He says I have years to train. He says the trip is not for some time. He tells me that he might keep the job if it means I'm there. He says "it's a great opportunity. easy money, just a trip or two."

He's been working there for 10 years. Roped in.

I just started.

Every little thing I did, every mistake and every win, I blamed on Curly. Not on purpose, because he already took the responsibility of taking me here.

It was our first trip. There was a lady there. She was just like me. He bounced off each other so well. We were inseparable. Curly hadn't bothered me once. So we got close. Anya was her name. She liked it when I called her bluff. She was competitive, strong-willed, loving, and had fire in here. The only people she suppressed that for was Curly.. and me. So she was nice. She let me sneak my HRT on the ship. She let me sneak myself into the medbay at night. She let me.

Our second trip was pleasant. Years apart from each other only to return. Anya had.. gotten worse. Lack of funds. She confided in me. I swear she laid her hands there first. She told me she wanted to be a man so she could get paid more like Curly. She told me she was a boy and a girl but she wanted so badly to be a man first and foremost. That she was a boy always and a girl second and that she tells me this to tell me that she wants to be stronger like me. Like me.

Anya wants to be like me. Anya wants me.

On and off, outside of work mainly, we chat more and we get dinner at places we can afford - her apartment.

She says, "Jimmy, you look nice," I tell her, "I just washed these."

Her eyes forget to close when I kiss her and she leans into me and we forget how much of this looks like sin, our transsexual bodies completely meshing. We don't find each other appealing outside of the intimacy. She likes things I don't and I wouldn't want to hold her back.

Curly is worried about our flings. He says they'll get me in trouble. I dance with him at that same bar just before we get launched into space.

Our third trip. Our last.

I was in this position for years. Training to be copilot. Trained as copilot. Trained to take the captain's hold if need be. I refused to learn all the steps. The handbook will help.

So when, after all these years, no one on this ship saw success or money or something better, when the company killed itself - I couldn't think of it as anything other than his fault.

From day one, he never liked this job. He never wanted it. I wanted it. I took it. He brought us down with him! It's his fault!

So I got myself a drink. I got her a drink. I got Swansea and Curly and Daisuke out of my face and I told her that I was going to lock myself in the bathroom and think about how I was to afford transitioning and food and a house and a car. I told her that I was going to think and that's what I did.

It was quiet. She was thinking about how she failed again. I was in the doorway. 2 hours in that bathroom. I came back at midnight to blow off steam.

We were supposed to be keeping it out of the ship. But she snuck the pills on board and thought it'd be funny to see how long we could last without using them. I broke that streak pretty quickly.

She said no, I said I needed it. She said be gentle, I said she didn't need to tell me.

The walls were thin. Pillow over the face, crying and trying to breathe. Fawn. Fawn. I know what I did was wrong, she told me she didn't take the pill.

She didn't take it. She can't swallow pills while I stick needles in my belly to realize I am else other than my flesh. Bigender Anya can't be a man if she's pregnant.

And I tell her that we'll get through it together, as a team.

I tell Curly that I'll deal with it.

I crash this ship hoping that all our futures are aligned because if I can't get my real body and I can't afford a home, no one else can. Let me into society, and none of this would have happened.

I wouldn't be the parasite as your tongue replacing your skin and blood with mine. I wouldn't have done it to anyone at all if I was just... told the truth. If I was told to stop. If I was hit, if I was slapped, I would have stopped. I know its all in my head now, I had power over all of them but with this gun in my hand and my teeth sharpened at her words, I aim and take out the gears so wildly in motion. 

Me.

I only cared about Curly in the end because I thought he'd save me. I was his friend.