"I may have saved her from the monsters that crawl through the dark, but she saved me from the worst monster of all. She rescued me from who I would have become without her, the monster that would have easily conquered my body."
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Reese Chambler...
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I HAVE TRIED to imagine what I would look like if I was normal. I used to wish that this never happened to me. Once, when I was young, I tried to force myself to believe that it didn't. But the rough, uneven skin stretching from my receded hairline to my collarbone on the right side is proof of what happened.
Just one little accident when I was a child. Just one moment of my parents not paying attention to the toddler reaching up toward the pot handle on the stove. In that one single moment, my entire life changed. From that day on, I was ugly.
Other little kids were scared of me. My parents were embarrassed to take me out for walks or to parks. I didn't leave that apartment much beside for school.
I was never abused. Neglected is a better word to describe how Meghan and I were raised. My parents fought a lot when I was little. They never paid attention to us between their relationship's turmoil and my mother's stress over nursing school.
Before Meghan was born, I was left home alone a lot. Most weeks, actually. I usually only saw my parents on the weekends or whenever I was seated by the living room window when my mom finally came home late at night. My grandpa took care of me more than my own parents did.
Before Meghan has born, I was sad all the time. But that all changed when my grandpa was diagnosed with lung cancer. That was around the same time that my mom found out she was pregnant again.
Meghan was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was the only person who didn't stare at me out of fear, even with my scarred face, because she didn't know any better. She only ever knew the maimed version of me. She was the only person who loved me regardless of what I looked like.
The only person, with the exception of the small child who sits splashing in the tub behind me.
My eyes travel from my own pitiful reflection to see my little baby sitting in the large tub, her hair wet and wild. I turn and walk over to kneel down to her level. Her eyes are wide. They have been that way ever since I placed her into the warm water. I doubt she has ever had a proper bath and she is loving every moment of the soapy comfort.
It's not long before I have her dried off and in a clean diaper. I let her keep herself busy on the tiled floor while I strip my own body and step into the shower. The water almost feels too hot against my skin, and the thick steam is suffocating.
I stand motionless for a few minutes, watching as brown ribbons of water rush over my flat chest, between my protruding hip bones, down my skinny legs. The yellow color of my hair whispers back to life as the mud is washed from the thin strands. A rough mixture of black, brown, and red pools in the water at my feet.
The fresh clothes feel soft against my skin, so different from the sweat encrusted shirt I was so used to. I tie my bandana around my face as Meghan unsuccessfully attempts to tie hers.
