Burned Bones
So Fast, So Suddenly
Somewhere in my mind, I had the slimmest hope that someone in the house had survived. And if they did, they managed to save all of themselves.
I could still feel my right hand clench and unclench, but not the same as it used to. Before, the warm skin would fold as my nails gently dug into my palm. None of that now. The metal fingertips failed to push down the cold exterior wrappings of the prosthetics.
“An experiment,” they said, “wielding man with machine.” They went on to explain that it was as close to my real body as it could get.
Tokio Hotel’s “Humanoid” ran through my head as I contemplated my situation. Memories of the fire began to fade, but still lingered, like a ghost. I had lost everything so fast, so suddenly. My mind became almost too numb to think. So I observed.
The IV in my left arm dripped fluids into my bloodstream. I could feel the framework of the hospital bed creak when I moved. The muted television stated the date on its screen. March 17, 2014.
I let my mind wander off, remembering the doctor explain the situation. I couldn’t believe it. It almost seemed as if this was someone else’s tragic story instead of my own.
In 2010, a house caught on fire, killing everyone inside. Except one. A girl named Alice was pulled out. Her right arm and leg were amputated, however, due to extensive damage that went right down to the bone. While in a coma, a family friend signed for her to be eligible to stand as a test subject for a new breakthrough in prosthetics.
After 4 years of being in a coma, she woke up, alone in the world. The family friend dropped off the face of the earth, and with the family dead, she will temporarily be put into an orphanage.
I am now 18, have missed 4 years of much needed schooling, and I feel almost dead. Not completely, but at least half way there.
~
I stayed a little bit longer in the hospital after I woke up, just to make sure nothing was wrong. Turns out one of the nurse’s husband pulled me out of the fire. Her name was Jasmine. I requested she tell her husband thank you for me.
I was visited by therapists trying to see if any disorders had come up, like post traumatic stress order. I checked out fine.
When I was finally free from the hospital, I was sent off to an orphanage. Despite being 18, I still had not completed school and was incapable of making of making a living for myself. I finished high school in 2 years, and am now homeless, begging for pennies in some unknown city.
I could still feel my right hand clench and unclench, but not the same as it used to. Before, the warm skin would fold as my nails gently dug into my palm. None of that now. The metal fingertips failed to push down the cold exterior wrappings of the prosthetics.
“An experiment,” they said, “wielding man with machine.” They went on to explain that it was as close to my real body as it could get.
Tokio Hotel’s “Humanoid” ran through my head as I contemplated my situation. Memories of the fire began to fade, but still lingered, like a ghost. I had lost everything so fast, so suddenly. My mind became almost too numb to think. So I observed.
The IV in my left arm dripped fluids into my bloodstream. I could feel the framework of the hospital bed creak when I moved. The muted television stated the date on its screen. March 17, 2014.
I let my mind wander off, remembering the doctor explain the situation. I couldn’t believe it. It almost seemed as if this was someone else’s tragic story instead of my own.
In 2010, a house caught on fire, killing everyone inside. Except one. A girl named Alice was pulled out. Her right arm and leg were amputated, however, due to extensive damage that went right down to the bone. While in a coma, a family friend signed for her to be eligible to stand as a test subject for a new breakthrough in prosthetics.
After 4 years of being in a coma, she woke up, alone in the world. The family friend dropped off the face of the earth, and with the family dead, she will temporarily be put into an orphanage.
I am now 18, have missed 4 years of much needed schooling, and I feel almost dead. Not completely, but at least half way there.
~
I stayed a little bit longer in the hospital after I woke up, just to make sure nothing was wrong. Turns out one of the nurse’s husband pulled me out of the fire. Her name was Jasmine. I requested she tell her husband thank you for me.
I was visited by therapists trying to see if any disorders had come up, like post traumatic stress order. I checked out fine.
When I was finally free from the hospital, I was sent off to an orphanage. Despite being 18, I still had not completed school and was incapable of making of making a living for myself. I finished high school in 2 years, and am now homeless, begging for pennies in some unknown city.