When the Sun Begins to Die

Chapter 1

Cadence P.O.V

It's funny how the universe works. Sometimes I feel like it has it out for all of us. We are all meant to die and suffer, but some people think it is possible to escape that. My parents are people like that.

"Cadence, pack your things!" my mother calls up to me.

I'm not sure why she bothers to tell me to pack. I know I'm being shipped away and won't be coming back. It's not like I can fit my entire room in my backpack.

I take some essentials: some spare clothes, my phone and charger, my sketchbook, and my testosterone pills. I chose the pills over the injections because the pills would be easier to conceal once I'm sent to live in a government bubble.

I walk downstairs. My sister and mother both have tears running down their cheeks. This upsets them more than it upsets me.

I knew that the sun was dying and that this would happen. I had been keeping track of its activities for years. My family chose to ignore it in hopes that it would pass. Now comes the time when the dying sun can no longer be ignored.

As of now, I am not on good terms with my parents. I am their son, even if I'm still working on my transition. I will never be their daughter, they already have one.

The Oasis, as some call it, is very expensive to enter. My parents had just enough money to get my sister a ticket, but not me. That's where the resentment begins. To get me into The Oasis they promised that I would produce a child within two years after the sun's blast. They promised that I would do this because we discovered my sister was barren and could not have children. I would give her my uterus if our parents would let me.

I lean against the staircase while my parents cry and hug my sister. It is upsetting to know that they won't be coming with us, but it may also be a relief. They won't be able to pressure me into reproducing into a dying world.

"Cadence please, this is our last day together as a family," my dad urges, gesturing for me to join in their hug of sorrow.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. They would expect me to be sympathetic and come crawling over, but I'm the only one with a steady head on my shoulders in this family. I'm not going to get myself emotionally attached to anyone during times like this. There is no point.

My mother cries harder than before, seeing my resentment for the first time in months. They saw it as a way to save my life, but I see it as a way to force me to stop my transition. My parents always claimed that they were fine with me becoming their son, but the walls are thin and closed doors can't hide everything.

Finally, it was time. A large vehicle honked outside of our house, telling us it was time to leave.

'To The Oasis we go.'