Burning

My mom gasped, then started crying. My dad sighed impatiently. The nurse gave my mom a warning look. The doctor smiled like he was at a picnic. He was really starting to annoy me.

"Come on, let her look. What could it do?" he said, actually laughing. Everyone in the vicinity, including several nurses and a few patients, gave him a death glare. He was obviously so used to working in the burn unit that the hideous, melted flesh didn't bother him anymore.

Letting a few tears leak out, my mom handed me a small pocket mirror. I took a deep breath and looked in it.

*****

I almost fainted. It was so…awful. Hideous. My skin was a horrible dark yellowish color, hard looking and raw. It had melted off in some places, hanging in twisted ridges and sunken valleys. My nose was crushed and twisted towards the left side of my face, recognizable only as a lump of flesh. My eyes were completely different; one was melted down, droopy and almost closed, while the other one was pushed over to the side, the eyelids held open. My top lip had burned away, baring my teeth, while the bottom one was fused to my left cheek.

****

It was a ghastly picture. I supposed that my family could stand to look at me because they had for a week. I'd heard somewhere that people who went to burn units for the first time usually fainted. I wondered if they had. If they hadn't been able to stand the sight of their oldest daughter…. I stopped suddenly. What about Melanie? She was only seven…what would she think of her sister? Would she be allowed to see me? Where was she now? How much did she know?

I knew I couldn't speak, but I wanted to ask all those questions so bad. I felt like Melanie's mother more than her sister, and I worried about her. I pretended to write on my palm, looking at one of the nurses meaningfully. She got the hint, handing me a pad of paper and a pen. I wrote out all my questions on the paper, hoping that they'd be able to read my scrawl. It was worsened by the fact that I couldn't hold the pen without pain, but it would have to do.

My mom took the pad when I was done, and I suddenly felt like a small child, unable to communicate my feelings. She read the list, probably wondering why I cared so much about my sister. She always thought it was strange that we had such a good relationship, but it had something to do with the fact that we were nine years apart. It was easier than if I was, say, two years older.

"Oh, honey, Mela's fine," my mom said, "We're going to introduce this slowly for her. She knows you were in an accident, and she knows you look different. She's over at Aunt Tiffany's." I let out a sigh. Melanie loved going to Aunt Tiffany's house. She'd be fine. For a while, at least. Besides, she wasn't the type of kid to ask a ton of questions about things that had happened. Mela was unusually wise for a seven-year-old, and understood that there were things that she couldn't understand. That didn't stop me from worrying about how she'd take my appearance, but I was set for a little bit.

"So," Dr. Moron butted in, "Danielle here has some treatment to go through. Standard for the severity of her burns," He spoke as if I couldn't hear him, "The dressings have been changed twice a day, and that'll continue. She'll also have ointment applied daily, and have the wounds cleaned every other day. Her IV has antibiotics and electrolytes, plus liquid to keep her hydrated and ward off shock. She'll have to take pain medication and protein supplements by mouth."

I hadn't understood half of what he had said, only that I'd have a hell of a lot on inconveniences. Just as I was about to open my mouth, my mom asked the question on my mind.

"How long 'til Dani can get out of here?" She never was one for eloquence…. The doctor considered for a minute before answering.

"Well…if you start reconstructive surgery immediately and have her stay here throughout, it could be around four months," I cringed at the number. I hated hospitals. "If you have her recover a bit more first, then she can be out in about two and a half weeks."

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, sure, but it was a very long tunnel. I would definitely opt to do surgery later. Hospitals creeped me out. There was something about the horribly sterile environment that just wasn't natural. Things were supposed to be at least a little cluttered.

It was strange that the atmosphere of the hospital still bothered me. It would be more logical to be almost worshipful of it. After all, the hospital had saved me. They would fix me. I guess I was still hoping that this was all a dream, that I was wearing some horribly twisted Halloween mask. I was jerked out of my thoughts by Dr. Dolt, once again.

"Speaking of reconstructive surgery…we need to discuss some things about that," he said, still completely comfortable, "What do—"

"We want her to look exactly the same." My mom said firmly, cutting him off.

"You have to ask Danielle, t—" he started. Unable to nod, I smiled widely, pointed to my parents and gave a thumbs-up. He looked slightly disappointed, as if wondering why I'd want my old face back. It offended me a slightly…I didn't think I was that ugly. Sure, I wasn't a model, but I'd gotten three offers for prom and I had a steady boyfriend.

My parents continued to insist that they wanted me the same. My own thoughts were going in different directions. I was confident that they'd be able to convince him. It's not like he could do anything without their permission.

I, being a sixteen-year-old girl, was thinking about the more day-to-day stuff. When would I be able to walk around? When would I be out of intensive care? Would I get my iPod, my books? Could I get internet access?

I decided then and there that my life wouldn't stop just because of one accident. I could keep on living.