Chapter 286
Daphne
What is a woman?
What makes a woman?
Do I still count as one?
No. If womanhood was reduced to nothing but genitals, it would invalidate those who've lost them—to trauma, to illness, to circumstance. My mind knows that.
But I have a fucking dick.
I remember intersex people, strong and beautiful, who identify as women regardless of what they were born with. Their womanhood isn't a debate. It's a fact.
But at least they always had something. Some form, some foundation. My own foundation has been ripped out and replaced.
Mind is gone. The thought echoes, hollow.
[Host. You have company.]
The System's voice cuts through the spiral. I don't answer. I just lean back in the chair of my too-fancy high-rise apartment, staring at the ceiling.
The buzzing of the door is so annoying and consistent, I end up standing and walking to the door, my robe loosely tied.
I open the door and come face to face with someone who looks like me.
