How many selfies 'till I'm pretty?

The accident

Fire. Flames flickered all around Melody. She was 8 years old. She couldn't breathe, the air and moisture was being sucked out her. She felt drowsy and her eyes burned. Flames licked at her, threatening to get closer. They crawled up her fingers. 

Pain shot up her spine and trembled thru her fingers. She screamed, shaking at her hand. Her hands now felt icy cold they were so hot. She screamed and cried. 

Pain was still shooting and bouncing around her hands when she was pulled out of the wreckage. Her father was dead and her hands hurt. She blacked out from the pain. 

She opened her eyes and bright lights flooded in. Her vision was blurry. When her vision cleared she spotted a small vase with a cluster of dandelions inside. Her hands were bandaged.

(months later)

She got her bandages removed. The bandages clung to her skin as they pulled it off revealing her unnaturally white hands with pink splotches here and there, as shiny as plastic. They hurt with the slightest movement and the cold air felt like she was almost getting burned all over again. 

When she got home the first thing she reached for were her crayola markers. It felt like she was writing with the wrong hand and so she switched but she couldn't hold the marker right. Finally she settled with how it wiggled in her hands. She put crayola to paper and drew but all that came out was squiggles. 

She let out cries and screams but she could not control the marker as she had before her hands that were aged 30 years older were not working. She cried and cried until she ran out of tears. 

"Sweetie I'm sorry," her mother had cried with her.

It took months to get most control over the uncontrolled spasms. even longer for the shaking to subside. Her coordination had come back alot but it was still clumsy today. 

But in fear that she would never be able to do what she loved she never put crayola to paper again.