Pain

(1) Normal

I can't feel. It hurts, but it doesn't hurt my body, just my mind. My mind is a storm of sorrow, confusion, rage... people call me inhuman, an alien, a freak... I wish I could be normal.

I have something called congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis (CIPA), and it means that I can't feel pain. I don't ever get 'hungry', I don't know what 'pain' feels like. Sometimes I think that people are messing with me by calling those terms real. I'm not able to understand what other people go through, and I so wish I could.

Some people might think that it's an amazing thing to have, but it isn't. I can't cry, I can't feel anything, I don't know if I were on the verge of death or if I'm completely healthy. I've learned to recognize when I should feel pain though, the red stuff called blood is bad. If I see it, I'm supposed to get help. But how do I know if it's all a lie? I don't. 

I've stayed alive for 16 years though, what's a few more decades? I know that clear chunks called ice are cold, and that I should stay away from them in colder months (or at least not touch them for long periods of time), and in winter, I shouldn't be in snow too long. In summer, I mustn't be outside too long. I should stay in my room with a fan on, or sometimes even get in water which my parents put ice in, since I can't sweat. Sweating helps cool down the body, but I can't do that. It's even impossible for me to bathe without some assistance, I still take baths and my mother washes me. Once, when I bathed myself on my own, my skin turned red and broke into blood from scrubbing too hard, and the rest of me was red from the hot bath water. I don't know how much pressure to use so that I'm cleaning my body sufficiently while not hurting myself. I had to stay in the hospital for a bit, it wasn't fun.

I've adapted to it though. I have alarms for when to do things. I don't know when I'm hungry, so at 7:00 is when I have two eggs and a piece of toast that my family prepares (since I'm not allowed to go near the stove or toaster), at 13:00 is when I eat a turkey sandwich and some sort of snack, which my mother prepares, and at 18:00 is when I eat whatever is made for me that day, but I have to wait until my parents say it is okay.

The only people who know about it are my family, my best friend Gray, and teachers and staff at school. It is hidden from students at school, but a few have their suspicions. Gray always covers for me though. If I stub a toe or bump an elbow, Gray will show our secret sign that lets me know to say, "Ow". 

I'm a Junior in High School, we are the Calleywheat Crushers. Even though I really shouldn't be, as told by my doctor, I am on the girls volleyball team. Gray is also on the team. His assigned gender is female, but he is a transgender. Things are tough for him at home with his homophobic dad, but I always help him out by letting him stay at my place often. 

***

I woke up to my alarm that was set for 6:00. Gray was lying next to me on the bed; he slept over last night because of a fight with his dad. He told me yesterday that he has a bruised left arm. To wake him up, I get up and walk over to the fridge. I take out a bottled water and walk back over to him, taking off the cap and using the uncapped bottle to pour on him. 

He is a really dense sleeper, unlike me, but he has a super sensitive body when it comes to temperature and pain. He has everything I wish to have, and I have everything he wishes to have. Strange, right?  

He woke up with a start. I did not poor much water, but it was enough so that his face was wet. I know not to pour it on his chest because it might get his chest-compressor wet (even though he has nothing to compress with his unusually small chest size). 

"Good morning, did you have nice dreams?" I ask in my usual monotone voice. 

A grin forms on his face. "In fact, I did. In my dream, I asked out Harry and he said yes, I just wish you hadn't woken me up before we got to the good stuff." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. I laugh at this gesture; he is a real big flirt that always gets me to laugh.

"You're welcome. At least I saved you from your lewd imagination."

"Hey, my lewd imagination is all I have. Take that away and my mind will be filled with nothing."

"What about food?"

"Besides that..."

"Volleyball?"

"Also not including that!"

I giggle and walk to my closet. I take off my pajamas and replace them with a cropped black hoodie with a large gray diamond pattern going vertically downward, a pair of dark blue ripped jeans, white socks and black and white checkered converse high tops. Gray says that this style is in. I decide to trust his fashion taste.

I don't care about changing in front of Gray, and he doesn't care about changing in front of me; we have no romantic feelings for each other. He is my overprotective big brother and I am his little sister, that is how our relationship has always been and how it will always be. Plus, he is gay. He has a crush on a guy named Harry.

When I say overprotective big brother, I mean that he watches over my every move. My parents trust him to watch me when they aren't with me, and he gladly does so. He isn't like my babysitter, however, because he says that hanging around me is like a gift. He says that I'm like his sixth sense, and I believe him when he says this because he somehow always knows when something has happened to me, and always takes on the pain that I can't feel mentally. I feel like I hold him back, like I am a burden to him, but I can't seem to let go of him even if I'm the source of his stress. I'm selfish like that.

Once he gets dressed in his baggy and black ripped jeans with chains on the sides, and his white shirt that has the Rolling Stones written on it, we both go to the bathroom. He puts some water on my face and then a quarter size of a blue facial scrub and washes my face with it. I can't do this myself because I scrub too hard and make myself bleed, so he does it for me. Once he washes it off of my face, he does so to his own face, making sure to avoid his nose and eyebrow piercings. Then he combs his black hair so it swishes to the side and brushes out my silky blonde hair. Or at least I'm told it is silky. I can't tell since I've never felt it, but it is straight and looks similar to images I've seen when I have searched up the word. 

Whenever he sleeps over, my parents sleep in. This is because he makes breakfast for me. He is like a second dad, and he helps my family a lot when my parents get sleep deprived from worrying. He is welcomed as part of the family, no matter what his sexuality or gender is.

He cooked up some chocolate chip pancakes. He knows that I can't taste things, but he always says, "Someday, my food will bring life to your tastebuds. It will be as if the angels above had blessed my cooking with divine power, the power necessary to bring back the impossible." It always makes me laugh.

I eat the pancakes while he watches intently. I shake my head, signaling that I can't taste it. He sighs. "Better luck next time! I'm telling you, someday it will work."

I giggle and continue to eat, making sure to keep my tongue away from my teeth. I fold it like a taco and press it to the roof of my mouth so that it is nowhere near my teeth. 

When we are all finished, we pack up our things, get on our bikes, and head to school.

End of chapter. (1459) words.

Authors note: To those who are reading my other story, I'm using this one to try and correct my usage of present and past tense verbs. I'm doing my best, but please let me know if I accidentally use a past tense verb when it should have been present tense. Also, I personally do not have or know anyone who has this disease, so some of my facts might be off. If they are, it is because they are assumptions of what happens based on educated guesses. I have done my research, but some studies have not been fully tested yet so the information is unknown.