Changing Keys, Part 5

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Synopsis:

How extensive are Jill's injuries? And what will become of her assailants? Thanks to Karen J for her assistance in the preparation of this story.

Story:

Changing Keys, Part 5
By Jillian

Blinding light…pain…black…

Knock, knock! Came the sound from the door, followed by Dave’s voice, “Dude, you about ready?”

I began rushing around madly, removing my feminine articles of clothing in a flurry and pulling on a plain terrycloth bathrobe before opening the hotel room door. “What is it? I know it’s not time to check out yet.”

“Sorry, I just thought you might wanna go get some breakfast before we have to head out.”

“Thanks, but I’m not much of a breakfast person, ya know?”

“I hear ya. It’s way too early for me too, but Billy Joe figures if we can all force down a meal before we head out, we should be good for a solid four or five hours before we have to stop again.”

“I guess I can see that. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you guys down in the restaurant, okay?”

“Sure,” Dave responded before turning around and heading down the hall.

I watched him walk away for a few seconds before closing the door, leaning back against it, and sliding down to sit on the floor while letting out a huge sigh…

“Do you know where you are?” the voice penetrated the fog surrounding my brain. The pain was beyond excruciating, and before I could even form a thought in response to his question, I once again passed out...

“I wish this fit,” I said to myself as I removed the dress from its place in my sister’s closet so I could hold it in front of me.

“That probably would look nice on you, if it were big enough,” my sister’s voice startled me and I hurriedly hung the dress back up in her closet.

I blushed furiously, and without looking at her said, “Sorry.”

She giggled and said, “At least you didn’t stretch it out.”

I couldn’t help but join her in giggling…

The pain as I slowly regained consciousness was overwhelming. There wasn’t one thing that hurt worse than any other, because my entire body felt like I’d been run over repeatedly by a Sherman tank. I started to make out some of the conversation taking place around me.

“The injuries are pretty extensive. We really need to start treatment as soon as possible,” said a voice I didn’t recognize.

“Do whatever you have to,” I heard Jen say, then she started to cry.

‘Was I really hurt that badly?’ I wondered. I then let a groan escape, which got everyone’s attention.

“I’m Dr. James. You’ve been pretty severely injured, and we’re going to take you in to surgery to fix you up, all right?”

With all the energy I could muster, I quietly croaked, “Okay.”

Suddenly the bed moved and as we made our way toward what I presumed to be the operating room, I once again lost my battle with consciousness...

“Come on, ya queer. I know ya want it,” came one of the taunts being bombarded upon me as I made my way toward my locker.

“Stuck up faggot bitch!” came another barb.

I opened the locker, placed a couple of textbooks in and removed a couple of others, then slammed it closed as I prepared for my next class. As I walked toward my next class, the comments continued until I was seated in my next class, and probably well beyond.

I sat there as the teacher droned on about whatever…I was paying absolutely no attention…trying to think of a way to not continue being the object of everyone’s ridicule…

As I walked down the hall toward the boy’s room, a couple of football players grabbed me by the arms and dragged me into a supply closet. “We’re gonna give you what you want, sissy!” one of them hissed.

The other one, who was standing behind me, put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down into a kneeling position. The one in front of me undid his fly and pulled down his pants and underwear. “You know what to do,” was all he said, as he forced himself into my mouth…

‘Where am I?’ was the first thing I thought as I began waking up. Lying there, strapped down with tubes sticking in me all over the place, I started piecing together what had happened to me. The club! Who was that? “Ohh,” I let escape me. There were sounds of rustling papers, then footsteps, and I felt someone take my hand.

“Jill?” It was Sarah!

Then someone touched my other hand, and Jen said, “Welcome back, sis.”

I finally started to open my eyes, but was blinded by the intensity of the light in the room. “Ahh, bright…” I managed to utter as my eyes fluttered closed again. My visitors released my hands, as Sarah reached to close the window blinds while Jen tracked down the call button and used it to alert the nurse that I was awake.

Sarah retook my hand in hers, “There, that should be a bit better.”

Taking the other one Jen added, “The nurse should be here any minute.”

I slowly opened my eyes, and realizing that it no longer was causing any kind of discomfort to do so, looked at first my sister, then Sarah. “Wha…what ha…happened?” I managed to whisper.

“There was an incident behind the club,” was all Jen would tell me at that moment.

I looked closely at her, and realizing I was not going to get much more information from her, I turned my attention to Sarah. I stared into her eyes, and saw concern and fear filling them. I’m fairly certain she knew the answer I was pleading for with my eyes.

She finally responded, “You were jumped on the way out of the club. I don’t know who did it, but there are quite a few of us who would really like to find out.”

Just then the nurse came in to check on me. “I see you’re finally awake. I was wondering if we were going to have to bring in a Prince Charming or something,” she joked as she checked my vitals. After entering them in my chart she left the room.

“Fat lot of good that would do,” Jen offered, laughing as she said it.

“You were saying?” I whispered. I had actually tried to speak more loudly, but the whisper was the only sound I could make without it hurting…too much.

Sarah and Jen looked back and forth at each other for a minute, I assumed trying to figure out just exactly what to say, when a man in surgical scrubs entered the room, followed closely by the nurse who had just left.

He opened my chart, looked over it for a moment, then wrote something down in it before addressing me. “Good, I see you’re awake.”

“I see you’re observant,” I whispered back. I don’t know if he actually heard what I said, but when Sarah and Jen started laughing, he joined in with them.

Once that peel of laughter died down, he continued, “We had to do a lot of work on you, and we’re going to need to talk about a few things. Do you feel up to it now, or would you rather rest a while?”

I was tired, but I was also curious, so I whispered, “Now is fine.”

“Ladies, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?” he asked my visitors.

“We’ll go get something to drink and come back in a few minutes,” Jen said as she and Sarah gave my hands one more squeeze each before leaving the room.

Once they’d left, the doctor asked, “First, how long have you been taking hormones?”

“About a year and a half,” I struggled to reply.

He made a note on the chart, and then asked, “And who is the prescribing physician?”

I was ashamed to admit that I’d ordered them off the Internet and self dosed instead of going to the doctor to have things done properly. I managed to respond, “Not one.”

He seemed to understand what I had thought but hadn’t voiced, and said, “That would explain why your levels are all out of kilter. That was a very foolish move on your part. What were you thinking?”

I started to cry as I whispered, “Sorry.”

He looked again at the chart and said, “According to your blood work, I’d guess you’ve been taking estradiol and aldactone. Anything else?”

“No sir.”

“You were probably taking what you had read would be the normal dose for HRT, is that correct?”

“Yes sir,” I was still silently crying, I felt so ashamed of myself.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll order some more blood work to determine your proper dosage, then we can get you back on HRT,” as he said this I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

“I’m going to order a phych evaluation, and recommend regular therapy with someone who has some experience in the treatment of transgendered people.” I actually smiled when he said that.

He came over and sat on the edge of my bed. “Now, as for the reason you’re here,” he said, suddenly seeming much more serious. “The beating you took was pretty extensive. Let’s see, three cracked ribs, some abdominal bleeding, severe contusions all over, a fractured larynx with a tear in the vocal chords, and,” he continued the list of injuries, “two ruptured testicles.”

I lay there, stunned by the enormity of what had been done to me by my attackers. The doctor continued with his explanation of my treatment. “We found the bleeder and repaired the tear in your stomach, had to put in some extensive reconstructive time on your larynx and repaired the chords, so eventually you should be able to speak normally again, although you may sound a little different than you did before. Probably a bit higher pitched, and very gravel-ly,” he said, chuckling at his newly made up word.

“As for the testicles, we performed an orchiectomy to remove the damaged organs, and closed the scrotal sac, trying to preserve as much of the tissue as possible for any potential future ‘after market work’ you might have done,” again with the laughing at his own joke. I must admit, that one was kind of funny though.

“Your penile tissue is extremely bruised, and even though the damage was rather extensive, we decided to attempt to preserve the tissue in the event you decide to pursue SRS. Your arms and legs are heavily bruised, but don’t appear to have sustained any serious damage. All in all, you were pretty lucky. If it hadn’t been for your friend finding you so quickly and calling the ambulance, you easily could have died from the internal bleeding.”

I smiled, knowing that I now owed Sarah my life. “Hopefully I’ll have a long life to pay her back for her efforts.”

“Now, I know your official ID says ‘Jack’, but I’m assuming from how your sister and friend address you that you would prefer to be referred to as ‘Jill’, is that correct?”

“Yes, doctor. Thank you,” I whispered, growing even more hoarse with each uttered sound.

He must have noticed the change in the sound of my voice, as he decided to wrap up this session. “Now then, Jill, it is time for you to get some sleep. It’s going to take several days at least before we can even talk about discharging you, so for now just lie back and relax, okay?”

“Okay.”

As the doctor got up from his seat on the edge of the bed to leave, Jen and Sarah returned, bearing flowers. Sarah took them to the window and set the arrangement on the sill, making sure it was secure enough that it wouldn’t be likely to be knocked off accidentally.

“Hi,” I whispered, sounding more like an overly exhausted Lauren Bacall with each passing syllable. ‘I could live with this voice’, I thought.

Jen looked at me and said, “I assume he told you about everything, correct?”

I just nodded, as my throat was starting to feel like it was on fire.

Sarah looked into my eyes and said, “You get some rest, okay? We’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

I obviously didn’t need much convincing, as I was quickly back asleep…

I am sitting on my bed, guitar in hand, with my headphone amp and portable CD player strewn in front of me. As I teach myself the guitar parts to Guns ‘n Roses CD “Appetite for Destruction”, it occurs to me that this is the one and only place in the world where nobody seems to want me gone from their world. When I’m playing my guitar, I am at peace.

Sitting here, doing exactly what I’m doing at this moment, is the one and only form of recreation allowed me by the outside world. The rest of the time, I’m looked down upon as being less than everyone else. So much so, that sometimes I start to believe the same thing. But when I’m playing guitar, all of that goes away. That’s why I do this same thing nearly every day after school, all evening long until mom says it’s bedtime, and then sometimes I’ll keep working past then. Maybe if I can become a good enough guitar player, people will accept me and start to treat me just like everyone else…

Every night, I sit down with a different CD and work until I’ve learned all the guitar parts on the recording. Some nights, I might even do two…

“Why did I answer that ad?” I ask myself for the thirteenth time since I got in the car to drive over here. After sitting in the car for a few minutes, unsure what to do, I get out, unload my guitar and amp from the back seat, and carry them up to the front door.

I knock, and when someone answers the door, the say, “You must be Jack. Come on in, the guys are set up down in the basement. Go on down and get your gear set up, then we can get started.

Once everyone is ready, someone calls out a song title…”Welcome to the Jungle”…and the drummer counts it off. I start in with the opening guitar part, then as the rest of the group comes in I discover a feeling I’ve never known before; that being the feeling of making music with other human beings.

As we work our way through song after song, all of which I know very well from my nightly practice ritual, I start to believe I’ve found what it is I’m supposed to do with my life. For the first time, I actually feel like I belong somewhere, and I decide that I like that feeling a lot…

I opened my eyes and saw that it was dark outside. In the faint light I could just make out Sarah asleep in one chair, while Jen was asleep in the other. I tried to move, but was immediately stopped by an intense stab of pain in my ribcage.

Moving as little as possible to avoid any further pain, I located and pressed the call button. A moment later, a nurse came in and asked, “Do you need anything?”

“Water please?” I managed to say it loud enough to be heard.

She poured a cup from the pitcher on my side table, inserted a straw, and held it for me to take a couple of sips, saying, “Here you go.”

Once I had swallowed a little water, my throat began to feel a little better and I said, “Thank you.”

She set the cup back on the side table beside the pitcher and asked, “Do you need anything else?”

“No thank you. I’ll be okay,” I told her as my consciousness began to fade yet again…

I’m approaching the rehearsal hall when I hear people speaking inside. For some reason I decide not to barge on in, and opt to stand just outside the door where I can listen in on the conversation.

“Dude, we gotta cut him loose. It’s embarrassing, man.”

“But he’s the best we’ve found, period. How in the Hell do we go about replacing him?”

“I don’t know, but the guy is such a pussy. Nobody’s gonna take us seriously with a wimp like him around.”

“I hate to do it, because the guy really can play. But you guys are right. He makes all of us look like fags or something.”

Standing outside the door, I start crying silently. I decide to not even acknowledge them, and I turn around and leave, never to return…

The sunlight was streaming in through my hospital room window, shining directly in my face as I awoke again. Jen was sitting up, rubbing sleep from her eyes, while Sarah was still slumped, asleep in the other chair. Before I had even had a chance to wish my sister good morning, a nurse came in to check on me.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she said with far too cheerful a voice to be allowed near me before noon, “How about we try some breakfast this morning?”

Without even waiting for a response she left, and a moment later returned with a tray of food for me. It consisted of a cup of chicken broth and a small bowl of jello. Upon surveying the morning’s offerings, I nearly told her ‘no thanks’, but realized it was going to be baby steps on the way back toward eating real food, so I took the offered tray gratefully and began sipping my broth.

As Sarah began waking up, Jen said, “I need to go tend to a couple of things, now that you’re awake. I’ll be back in a bit, all right?” She came over to my bedside, bent over, and kissed my cheek.

“I’m sure I’ll find some way of keeping occupied,” I said to her.

“Okay, then,” as she returned to her full upright position, then continued, “I’ll see you later. Love you, sis.” She then turned around and left the room.

I turned toward Sarah and said, “You know, you really don’t have to stay with me all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but…”

“Don’t be silly. So tell me, do you often profess your love for someone, then dismiss them like that?”

“I suppose I did sort of just do that, didn’t I?” I began to blush furiously. “I didn’t mean it like…”

She cut me off, “It’s okay.” She moved her chair closer to the side of my bed. Once settled again, she reached out and took my hand in hers. “Jen filled me in some on what was going on as far as your injuries, but I wonder what your take is?”

“I’m grateful things weren’t a lot worse than they could’ve been, and I think I owe some of that to you.” I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed it lightly. “I hope you don’t mind?” I added as an afterthought.

As I returned her hand, still clasped in mine, back to it’s previous position, she reached forward with her other and then was holding mine sandwiched between hers. “A couple of days ago, I might have. Now, I think I’d mind if you hadn’t,” I felt my heart leap at her words.

“From what the doctor just told me, in a way they actually did me a favor. I had done something very irresponsible that very easily could have threatened my life. Now,” I continued, “I’m going to get the chance to correct my mistake.”

Thinking about the rather vague nature of my last statement, I don’t think she felt like it was the time or place to pursue more in depth information, so instead she simply looked into my eyes and smiled.

“I know I’m not the person you envisioned being with. No doubt, things are seeming a bit strange for you about now.”

“Like I said, I’m starting to become comfortable with things. I look at you, and I see the same person I met so long ago and felt such strong feelings for. In some ways, maybe being the way you are has actually helped me get past some of my own demons.”

She then leaned down, lifted my hand, which was still clasped in both of hers, and kissed my fingertips. Once she had lowered it she continued, “Don’t get me wrong, things will no doubt still feel sort of strange from time to time. But I think things will work out.”

“I hope you’re right, because I really do love you,” I told her. “Maybe it seems strange to say that, given the circumstances, but I do.”

She smiled at me, “I love you too.”

Just then my sister returned. As she entered the room she saw us and asked, “Do you want me to come back?”

We all began to giggle at that, but I had to stop immediately as the pain returned in both my throat and ribcage.

Sarah looked at Jen as if she knew exactly what she had been doing and asked, “So did you get everything taken care of?”

Jen pulled her chair closer to the bed and sat down on the opposite side from Sarah, then replied, “Oh, yes. Everything is set.”

“What?” I asked.

Jen quickly responded, “Oh, nothing really. Just some band business.”

“You found a replacement for me already?” I was disappointed, but knew that this was a business and they needed to continue working.

“Not yet. I don’t really want to, if you must know. Obviously, we had to cancel Saturday night.”

Having just occurred to me that I had no idea even what day it was, or how long I’d been unconscious, I decided to ask, “How long…?”

“It’s Monday,” Sarah offered.

So I’d slept through the weekend. “When’s your next gig booked?”

“This Thursday, Friday, and Saturday back at TC’s,” Sarah jumped in.

“In a way, I’m glad I’ll be missing that one,” I said before I realized it. It was true, I wasn’t looking forward to returning to ‘the scene of the crime’, but I didn’t mean to let them know that.

“Not to worry, they’re putting on a little extra security, and besides, by then the problem will have been dealt with,” Jen said with an air of confidence that made me wonder just exactly what she meant.

“What do you mean? Dealt with?”

Sarah quickly jumped in before I could ask any more, “Never mind, all right?”

“Does this mean I’m out of the band?”

Jen snickered as she said, “Well no! You’re easily the best guitar player we’ve ever had. We’d have to be stupid to do something like that, and even Shelly’s not blonde enough to be that dumb. Besides, I kinda like having my sister around all the time.”

At that moment a police officer entered my room, “Are you, uh, Miss Tucker?”

I looked at him and was pleased by how good it made me feel to be addressed as ‘Miss’, and said, “Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you officer?”

“Just following up on your case, uh, ma’am.” It was obvious he was aware of my condition, but to his credit was trying to be polite about things. “Now that you’re awake, can you tell us anything about your assailants?”

‘Well yeah, I can tell you exactly who it was’ went through my head, but to him my response was, “It was dark and I was hit as I came out the door. I was so worried about trying to protect myself I didn’t even bother trying to see them. I’m afraid I’m not going to be of much help.”

As I said this, I could see Jen pleading with her eyes to not tell the police anything. I finally began to understand her earlier exchange with Sarah, and since I didn’t want to get either of them in trouble, I decided the best course of action was to tell the police nothing useful.

“Well, if you happen to think of anything that might help us find the persons that did this, please give me a call. Here’s my card.” Professional all the way, even in the face of dealing with someone he probably had nothing but distaste for.

“Thank you officer,” I replied.

Jen took the offered business card, “Yes, thank you.”

Sarah didn’t even look at him. Instead, she stared into my eyes. I could think of a lot worse things in this world.

The officer then turned around and left without another word. I suspected he knew that we weren’t telling him the whole story, but by the same token, I don’t think he was all that concerned about getting to the bottom of things in this case. At least he hadn’t been a complete jerk to my face.

Once he was gone, Jen spoke again, “Well, it looks like we may need to find a sub for you for this weekend. I guess we’d best head out so we can get busy on that front.”

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, then turned to leave. Sarah said, “I’ll be out in a minute, all right?”

Jen replied, “Sure,” and left the room.

Sarah bent over me and gave me a kiss that sent my heart flying loop de loops around Venus before finally returning to my chest, then simply said, “I’ll see you later.” She then quietly walked out of my room, leaving me alone for the first time since my beating.

Notes:

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Comments

Lions and tigers and bears - oh my!

Hope Eternal Reigns's picture

Dear Jill,

Please write more soon. Waiting for the next chapter is always the most difficult part of reading serial stories.

Glad Jill is 'on-the-mend' as it were. Hmmmm, vigilantes huh? Should make for some fun.

Thank you.

with love,

HER

with love,

Hope

Once in a while I bare my soul, more often my soles bear me.

Lots of Decisions...

This chapter opened a lot of new directions for Jill and her life. I cannot believe how easy and allowing the doctor was on Jill in prescribing. I need that doctors name and location! :) Most doctors in US very skittish on prescribe HRT without SRS imminent soon. Jill is very lucky!

Not sure what Jen has in mind for revenge but it must be nasty. Bounty Hunters? Mob? Maybe give each of Daves Band same treatment Jill got? Be very interesting and can barely wait for the next chapter to tell!

Wonder if Jill's voice changes enough from the beating to allow her to sing better?

Please hurry with the next chapter Jillian! You have us aching for more right now!!!!!

Sephrena

Disagree somewhat.

It is my experience in the states that HRT isn't that hard once you find a good therapist that has good relations with a doctor. Also, from what I have heard, they want you on HRT for a year before even doing the simpler things outside of laser hair removal and trachea shave. It is true that getting a doctor to prescribe without one being in therapy with a gender specialist is close to impossible.

Somebody is Dog-meat

What do Jen and Sarah have planned for the assailants?

Given the Kipling line about the woman being deadlier then the male, what is she setting them up for? Will they be beat to death by other red-necks as suspected gays -- poetic viciousness --, does she have mafia friends,will they trick them into confessing, drug them and castrate them. It must be something nasty that Sarah and Jen won't say -- plausible deneighablity comes to mind.

Is the club or the police liable for the attack? There had been serious trouble before and only after what could have been a fatal attack is the security being beefed up.

It would be ironic in a good way if the attack, which has led to Jill's HRT being medically supervised and the injuries to his'her voice, that she may end up a more sucessful performer than he. Sarah is showing real growth as a person, I am interested in how their romance will progress. It can't be easy for either of them as they are both 'damaged goods.'Sounds like -- since the HRT was self-administed -- unless you can pull off a Tayna Allan or they use some kind of advanced genetic/cell manipulation technique, there is no chance of a little John/Jill. He's unlikely to have banked any sperm. Sarah and he/she would make the best of parents, truely caring souls.

The flashbacks were instructive and make me hate/pitty his mom more. Were was she when he was being bullied into withdrawning from the world into his music? I hope Jen had time whem mom was on her death bed to say "half of what you left to me I'm giving to Jack/Jill you uncaring bitch. I'd like to think of mom dying knowning both her children dispise her or better yet regretting her action, but I doubt her last minute conversion.

Sorry, but parents who abuse their children or let them be abused and do nothing are contemptable.

Stop making me care for your characters, that's very mean of you.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

A little well-earned revenge!

It's my personal opinion that Jen and company have a couple more male friends then the just the ones responsible for the replacement van window and the new bedroom furniture. A little quid pro quo and POW! What's the old biblical phrase - An eye for an eye! If the attackers get done to them what was done to Jill. . . .

As for Sarah, I'm guessing she got a wakeup call when Jill was attacked. It suddenly dawned on her that she could lose what might be the best thing that ever happened to her. Nice to see she has come around.

I'm afraid I can't find much room for pity for Jen and Jill's mom. If even Jen couldn't stand mom, there must have been a serious flaw in her makeup, over and above her intolerance for transgendered people. I imagine her opinion of Jack as a pervert meant she didn't have much sympathy for him, being harassed and bullied. All in all, except for the fact that she bore two wonderful people, she pretty much sounds like a waste of space and air.

Hopefully Jillian will get another chapter finished soon.

Hugs!
Karen J.


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

The Vigilante Problem

Easy to take it out on the three band members. But we don't actually know if all three were involved -- I'm still wondering about Terry possibly ducking out before the fight last time, since he wasn't on the bounce list -- and whether the primary assailant(s) had help. Given the way Jen's handling it, I doubt that anybody's going to care much about guilt or innocence.

Not sure about where things go from here with Jill's songwriting, but I don't think Lauren Bacall would have been much of a harmony vocalist.

Eric

But she was a great singer, or her ghost was

In her first film -- To Have and Have Not(?) -- a teenaged Andy Williams was her ghost singer.

Wow, accidental Hollywood TG!

I hope Jen gets the people who did this despicable act but not someone who is inocent of the crime. I like to see them get caught up in the jutice system -- how many of those gay-bashers will end up some hardened felons prison bitch?

Geeze I have a mean streak, but then I always hated those who picked on the weak. Words are one thing but violence?

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa