Artistic License

Part III: Ink

Warm water splashed and swirled against my body as I hummed a bittersweet tune. My right arm hung at my chest, shielded by a plastic sleeve. Doing everything with one limb was a true trial, but I was managing in some fashion. Droplets of water danced down my back as I turned, facing the shower wall.

I ceased my melody.

Why does something feel so off? I had convinced myself that I was coping well with my accident. I had forced myself to believe the gaps in my memory did not bother me, and that I was joyful. I could keep lying like this to protect myself... or face my reality. 

Instinctively, I balled up my right fist and–

My hand didn't budge. I gazed at it in heartbroken sorrow.

The truth is...

I fell against the shower door with a sharp breath of pain, allowing my body to sink downward with my heart.

                                                          ✎

The sun was painfully bright in the morning.

My days at home from then on until the first of school had passed without interest. I had spent the days entwined in the reassuring arms of cadaver literature found in my old bedroom. Arianna had doted upon me, her gentle, teasing touch filling me with thoughts of my mother.

I recalled my mother and father playing with me as a child, my hazy older sister lifeless in the background. A traumatic event somewhere along the way had taught her the crippling nature of fear, and it glistened in her blue eyes as she studied the games we enjoyed from afar. Those eyes were hollow– lifeless. Arianna's eyes were light and affectionate. She and this sister were certainly strangers to each other.

The stranger in question knocked on my door with a soft rap, opening it and peeping in through the crack.

"You're up. Good. How are you feeling? Today's the day."

I shrugged.

"Well, don't be too excited about it, Nannette.", she laughed, her pet name for me rolling amusedly off her tongue like a glass marble.

I wasn't yet sure of my feelings on returning to school. I couldn't be comforted by the thought of class– after all, it was likely to be filled with pitiful glances and curious faces. The daunting mountain of destined makeup work was also a formidable task to face. However, Arianna's enthusiasm was practically viral.

As I donned my jet-black uniform pants, I glared towards the bra draped over the chair with the evil eyes of an archenemy. There were simply some things that could not be done one-handed. Swallow your pride, Annette, swallow your pride.

I called Arianna into the room with much chagrin, my embarrassment painted across my crimson cheeks. I nodded towards the chair, and Arianna helped me pull on and fasten my clothes with a wordless giggle.

The blue polo was brand new; I had apparently never heard of short sleeves before, and long buttoned sleeves were not friendly with full arm casts. It lent even more of an alien feel to the outfit. As Arianna left me to my devices, I wandered over to the bathroom mirror and analysed the reflection. This one, at least, was unblemished.

I contemplated putting on makeup but quickly came to the obvious conclusion that left-handed eyeliner just might be a disaster. Instead, I splashed bitterly cold water across my forlorn features. With a brush, I tamed my long sable-brown locks, the soft waves of my hair pouring down my back. Judging the overall look to be sufficient, I swiped a pair of glimmering studs from the stand and popped them in my earlobes. There. I don't look completely hideous now.