When China Breaks//Ed Sheeran #Wattys2016 #NewVoices

I promise that I will never miss you

"I can tell right now that you're a very confident young lady."

I looked up from the window. I had been finding windows in every room and looking outside of them. It wasn't that I was restricted from going outside, but even if I was outside, I was always only looking in. I figured I would save myself the heartache and just look outside.

My new doctor, a lady with rather big eyes and pixie cut to match, was holding a clipboard. "What do you mean?" I asked her. She smiled and took a seat in the swivel chair in front of her computer.

"Shorts?" She pointed out. I looked down at my bare legs. My stump was covered with a thick layer of bandaging, so it wasn't completely bare.

"They're less of a hassle to put on," I tell her honestly. I ran my hand over my stump for about the millionth time. It didn't hurt, not today.

"Most people have a hard time showing their amputations."

"Is this a check up or a psych evaluation?" I chuckled but provided very little humor to be the backbone of my joke. My doctor shrugged and smiled at me innocently.

"Have you talked a therapist?" She asked me.

Now I'm crazy, I think bitterly, looking at my leg. "No, and I don't want to. I'm okay. I accepted that this was going to be my life a few weeks ago before they even cut my leg off." I tell her. She stood up and began to run through her doctor's checklist, checking the inside of my mouth, my eyes, and my ears as if there were things wrong with me there.

"Well, maybe deep inside you're really hiding your true feelings. Maybe you're sad and you just want to have everyone believe that you're okay." She pressed. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm fine, honestly."

She stepped back and examined me. "Who are you trying to fool, Aaliyah?" She asked me seriously.

"I don't even know you, and you don't know me! So let's stop talking to each other like long lost friends connecting on some emotional level that doesn't exist. You would never understand what I'm going through because--"

"I still have both my legs?" She finished my sentence for me. "Will you never connect with anyone because you'll feel too different from them?"

I looked down at my knees. "I don't know who I'll connect with. I'm not worried about that right now."

The doctor wrote me out prescription antibiotics. "Talk to a therapist. Or maybe even join a support group."

"No thanks," I say, scooting forward on the table until my foot touched the ground. My chair was only about a foot away. Mary Ella was outside, as she wasn't allowed in, but I was too impatient to wait for her to help me. Besides, I had gotten on and off my bed several times alone without hurting myself. I braced myself on the arms of my chair and carefully turned around and sat down. "How long do I have to wait before I can get a prosthetic?"

The doctor thought. "It all depends. You'll have to be able to put pressure on your residual limb without feeling any pain. Sometimes that takes a few weeks or a few months. You're not ready yet, but soon. Ready to get walking again?"

"More than ready," I smiled.

"What about dancing? Excited to dance again?"

I frowned. "No. I don't want to dance anymore."

"Okay, okay." She shrugged. "You'll have to occupy your time somehow. "

"Well I have tons of school work and I'll have to do summer school to catch up. I think I'll manage to fill my time."