The Clean Ones

Chapter 20

"Cale, sweetie, are you alright?"

I peeled my eyes open, slowly, and gazed straight into a pair of piercing green eyes. They seemed to be scanning my face, searching for any form of life writhing within me.

"Perri?" I murmured groggily.

"No, she's not here right now. It's just me." I pulled myself up to my elbows and looked straight at Lilliana's withered face. Her eyes were wide and sympathetic as her hand stroked the side of my face. "Thank goodness you're alright."

"What do you-"

"Your leg wound was pretty bad. It took us a while to get it all healed up. Thankfully, it's looking better now. But your shoulder..." She trailed off.

I gulped, slightly out of nerves. "What happened to it?"

"It looked infected. It also wasn't healing properly. That is most likely due to unsanitary care of the wound. We tried to take care of it, and we did. But... Well, maybe you should just see for yourself."

I nodded, and stretched out my limbs, which ached with soreness and dulled pain. Lilliana pointed in the direction of a small, cracked mirror in the corner. I got off of the cool, metal table that I was laying on and walked over to it. I pulled the thick black shirt someone must have put on me off over my head and turned around so my back was facing the mirror. Even within the cracks, I couldn't deny the massive scar that ran from just above my chest, through my shoulder, and down to the center of my back. It looked absolutely horrendous.
It wasn't that it was just one, clean cut scar. No, this was much worse. It was jagged all over, and oozed a white and green puss in the places that were not masked by blood. The sight of it made me want to vomit. It wasn't just that I was concerned with my self image. That had never been of high concern for me. You looked how you looked and there wasn't much you could do to change that. It was more the constant reminder it would bring with it. Every time I looked in the mirror, I would be reminded of how I was weak. How, in one instant, I allowed myself to be fragile and breakable, almost like glass. And, just like the glass, I was shattered.

A shaky hand pressed against my uninjured shoulder. "Are you okay, Cale?" Lilliana asked me. Her voice was gentle and warm, yet there was a sharpness hidden underneath it.

I swallowed. "I think so." I sighed. "It's just... Going to take some getting used to."

"I understand." She said. "But don't think for a second that it makes you any different than you were before, okay? Life is not a perfect scenario for anyone. Certainly not for us," she chuckled. "And because of that, we are faced with scars. Sometimes they're mental scars, or internal wounds, if you will. Placed upon our hearts by the mere stroke of heartbreak. Sometimes, our internal wounds are caused by the severity and harshness of text or speech. I know what you're thinking- how would I know that? Just keep in mind, I too have a life outside the Cleanse." She paused, but I didn't dare to fill in the gap. "Anyways," she continued on after a long moment, "often, scars are physical, and place a mark on our appearance. But they don't define you. They don't make you weak or any different than they were before. They are just a sign of the battle you fought, the triumph you went through. And it's something a lot of us have to life with. So while the right side of your body may be scarred for forever, you're still you. You're still Cale." She concluded. I couldn't speak, even if I had wanted to. She was completely, 100% correct in her statement.

After a while of the two of us standing there with our faces in the mirror, I spoke. "You're right." My voice came out much thicker than I anticipated. "Thank you, Lil."

"My pleasure." She replied, and pulled me into an embrace.

"No," I said. "Not just for that. For everything. For what you've sacrificed to help me. I thank you. And I owe you my life for it."