With a start I wake, I still see the billowing smoke, still feel the pain, although it's not possible, ever again to feel, pain or no pain in my non- existent leg. I wipe away the bucket-load of sweat that lines my forehead, but I still feel hot, sticky and restless, so I opt for a long, cold shower.
I call for a nurse with the button beside me. Mel quickly appears, as if she was waiting for me to summon her assistance. With a soft expression, she proceeds the well-established routine that I abide by. Might as well, not as if I can protest with the state I'm in.
* * *
Under the flow of the slick, cool water, I relax. Showering is the best part of my day now. Nothing can harm me. Fire can not get me here. I can scrub myself clear of all of the past. A clean slate. I let the water cascade over my body, caress my puckered skin and take me far away from this life. But I'm pulled back almost as soon as I've left. Mel inquires, yet again, about how much longer I need. Reluctantly I let her assist me out of the shower and dry me down. When she first did this I protested, I was 17, I didn't need a stranger patting me dry, or even seeing me naked. But I soon relented after her persistence and the stern talk from the doctor, explaining the importance of caring for my borrowed skin.
YOU ARE READING
Two Left Feet
Teen FictionThe crash took away her confidence, her independence, her best friend and a third of her right leg. One stupid decision on one stupid night has left Meg struggling to rebuild a shattered life. Although, like her ability to dance, she might as well...
