Sundance

15. New face (Izuna)

I'd read a lot of books in my days.

Most people didn't know. Honestly, nobody knew except Madara. And Tobirama. I had told him during one of our late-night conversations.

I read everything. Since fiction. Fantasy. Crime. Autobiographies. Books about space. I loved them all. But what really got to me was the drama books. 

I hated them. Absolutely hated them. Always the fucking hospitalisations. Always the fucking dramatic ins and outs of ICU's. What was a good dramatic story without a good and long hospital stay? So of course, my own drama story needed to include a good and long hospital stay. I was sick of drama stories. Especially my own. So if I ever became a book, I would spare the readers the details of my stay.

When I came home was, however, a much more interesting story.

It was two weeks after I had been hospitalised. I had my oversized hoodie on, the hood pulled far down my face, a scarf up to my nose to hide my new face. I knew they had done a skin graft but that it had rejected, and they hadn't tried a new one. I hadn't dared to look at my new face. Every time I happened to see a shadow in my phone screen I jerked and put my phone away.

The visits from the circus people had been amazing. I think what made then so good was the combination of them. They were all so worried about how they should behave, having different ideas in their mind as to what was the correct behaviour, but what really helped me was the combination of all of their different approaches. Some just pretended everything was as usual, including my appearance. Some talked about nothing but my appearance and how I felt about my face being melted into burn scars. Some couldn't look at me and were awfully shy. Some tried to distract me. And all of it combined worked wonders to make me feel loved, make me feel seen, like I mattered.

The only one whose reaction had damaged me, was the one of Hashirama.

Tears burned in my eyes when I thought about his reaction. It wasn't really anything he did, but the aura he emitted. He had gaped when he saw me, visibly shocked, even if he'd been warned before he came in and shown pictures. He had sat down next to me. I had looked down, my heart swallowed up in sorrow as I felt how he radiated regret, a sadness of having lost something. I'm not GONE! I had wanted to shout. I am still the same! On the inside!!

But to him, I wasn't. Which just proved what I had always believed; I was nothing but a body.

And I had no body left to brag about.

When Hashirama had left was the first time I had a panic attack regarding my situation.

I wonder how HE would have handled it...

I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know so I had refused meeting him. I can't handle it, I argued with myself inside my head. I hated arguing with myself inside my head because I was a fucking bitch which I loved, until my bitchiness was directed at myself. Just dropping him forever is so much easier than to risk his reaction being the same as Hashirama's. Or worse.

So I had refused to meet him.

And now, two weeks after the accident, I was careful so as not to meet anyone on my way to my little home. 

My second panic attack came just after I had entered my trailer.

The first thing I did was to just cast my head down and take down all mirrors. I had one little wooden one in the bathroom, and one full-body one in the main area where I had used to watch Hashirama fuck me. I put them on the floor underneath my bed, hoping I wouldn't be tempted to look at myself.