Second Life

She doesn't remember. Nothing comes to mind when someone says her name; the name itself doesn't stick once they stop speaking. The nurses don't understand, can't understand this pain. Yet they smile and say, "you're getting better". Well, what is better, anyway? Is it just a second-best to the real thing, since she'll never be whole again? Just a word? None of it matters anyway. The routine begins again as the sun rises, pulling with it the pain. She was born into this Hell on Earth, and this Hell on Earth is what she will die from.