Embers and Sparks(Short Story)

Being burnt alive is one of the most painful ways to die, they said. Hope should just be glad her daughter survived, but that wasn't enough for her.

Hope stood at the door of the room mentally preparing herself for something she will never get used to.

"Sam, I got coffee."

Her daughter turned towards her, completely emotionless. "Hi mom."

Sam always looked different from her. Brown hair instead of blond, coal-black eyes instead of blue. Dressing in jeans than the dresses Hope always preferred. But you could always tell she was her daughter, just by looking at her bright eyes.

Confined to her bed, Sam stared at her, face disfigured and covered with bandages, with one milky-white eye and another ashy-black without the flame she was so used to seeing.

Hope sat by her bed quietly as she had done the past few days, supporting her daughter, pretending nothing had changed after the gas leak that exploded her daughter's apartment.

Sam's hands twitched, skin stretching painfully as she tried to lift her hand to receive the cup. Hope steeled herself as she carefully helped her daughter to drink.

She couldn't do this any longer. She could not look at her beautiful daughter become a shell of who she was, like a puppet being controlled with mechanical replies and hollow eyes.

Hope knew her daughter. She was fiercely independent and incredibly stubborn. Hope was told several times to wait, to let Sam come to her. But Sam just grew more and more distant, closing up even further. And Hope couldn't sit silently and watch as her daughter crumbles from the inside.

"You should talk to me, Sam. You can't bottle up all of this." She said bluntly, getting straight to the point.

No response.

"I am your mother, please don't push me away," she said, her voice cracking. "Let me help you."

"I am getting better," Sam said suddenly, in a monotone voice.

"I know you are, sweetie. But I can't just sit here and watch. You don't have to do this alone."

"The doctor said that in just a week or two they can remove the rest of my bandages. In another month or so I can go around in a wheelchair."

"That will be amazing, honey. But I still want to help you. Just someone you can talk to at least."

Sam's eyes hardened, something dark swirling in its depths.

"In 6th grade, you said I needed to make friends. Someone to talk to. But it just made me feel worse. I was never included in anything. They all just treated me like a pet they adopted out of pity. I turned out just fine on my own." Sam said abruptly, looking at the mirror in the room seemingly in a distant haze.

Hope flinched. She didn't know this, but this wasn't the time.

"You still had me," Hope said instead.

"I never told you any of this," Sam said coldly.

Hope sighed. This wasn't working. She needed to switch directions.

"When I was 17, my dad got into a car accident. We didn't know that he would survive back then. My mom and I bottled it up for a few days. For a small reason I don't remember anymore, my mom started screaming at me and I screamed back. After both of us devolved into tears, we felt so much better. You really have to let go sometimes. So , please let go. Scream. Yell, cry. You need it. Please."

Sam froze at her tone, something snapping within her.

"When I first looked at the mirror when I had my bandages removed, I couldn't recognise myself. It took me a minute to realize that the woman with burnt hair, blackened and deformed skin, with half a proper nose and a milky eye was me," Sam began after a moment of silence. "I wonder sometimes, if I couldn't recognise myself, could you recognise me as your pathetic bedridden daughter?"

Hope bit her lip, swallowing the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. 'Not now,' she reminded herself. 'She isn't asking for a response right now.' Instead, she just gripped Sam's clothes tighter.

"Do you know how humiliating it is to not even be able to move the slightest without pain? Not being able to do anything on your own. Not even something as simple as going to the bathroom? Do you know how disorienting, how vulnerable it feels to not be able to see out of one of your eyes?" Sam's voice filled with despair, anger, and hatred. "Do you know how hard it is to accept that I will be a burden for months? Do you know how it feels to look at your sagging skin and wounds and feel repulsed at yourself?" Sam looked at her, her eyes filling with desperation.

Tears welled in Hope's eyes, sorrow filling her at Sam's venomous thoughts.

"My daughter is a kind, strong and dependable woman, with an aura of steel. How could I not recognise you at first sight?" Hope started, "Last summer when I broke my leg, I wasn't able to walk. Was I a burden to you?"

"Of course no-"

"Then why would it be different for you?"

" I AM HALF BLIND! MY SKIN IS HANGING OFF MY BODY. I CAN'T EVEN LIFT MY ARM! EVERYTIME I LOOK IN A MIRROR I HATE MYSELF!" Sam screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"You are not a burden," Hope said firmly. "I want to do this, let me."

Sam paused and sobbed silently for a minute, finally letting it out, crying freely with her mother. Her shoulders sagging with a burden lifted.

"You will have to do everything."

"How do you think it was when you were a baby?" Hope joked with a watery smile, relief coursing through her body as she looked into her daughter's eyes.

The fire she was used to was still missing, but now she could see a spark.