Scars (Short Story Version)

One

"The accident lost me half my limbs, not half my brain," I tell the doctor again he treats me incapable of, well, anything.

Doctor Richard sighs. "The patient who isn't patient is harder to treat," he states, quoting one of his favourite science journals. He keeps bringing them for me to read. I don't.

I open my mouth to protest, but Doctor Richard silences me and continues speaking.

"I'm certain that you want to get out of here as soon as humanly possible. However, you have to know we're doing everything we can."

I lay back down on my bed. The hospital is boring at the best of times; however, I get to spend extra time on university schoolwork. Yay. Like completing a degree in mechanical engineering wasn't hard enough. Try learning to write again while you're at it.

The doctors tell me after the car accident, I was rushed into Emergency. My legs were crushed, and in bad condition. I've seen the x-rays-not that I understand them much. While one of my legs was saved with minor breaks, the right one had to be amputated, as well as my arm. The whole right side of my body is pretty much crushed. I'm continually reminded how lucky I am that it wasn't my head. Like my life losing all sense of direction is something to rejoice.

Doctor Richard wraps new bandages on the stump of my arm.

"Also, I got some good news for you." The doctor's words interrupt my thoughts. I sit upright, upsetting my balance. Doctor Richard chuckles. I glare at his smiling face, but he doesn't see.

"No, you're not getting out yet."

I slump back down in my bed. A small yelp of pain escapes my lips. Doctor Richard writes something down on his clipboard he takes everywhere. More pain killers for me. Aren't I lucky.

"Stop moving so I can finish this and tell you the news."

I settle back down, not caring about what he had to say since I wasn't getting out of here, yet.

Doctor Richard starts looking at my leg. What's left of it, anyways.

"You're getting a new roommate."

I shoot a glance at the other bed in the room. It is currently empty but I had been told that somebody had stayed there while I was still unconscious from shock and anesthetic.

I shake my head to clear my cloudy thoughts.

"He'll be arriving later this afternoon. He is transferring from another ward."

I nod listlessly as my thoughts wander again. I'm numb, completely void of emotions. The doctor talks, but I don't hear. My thoughts and eyelids are heavy.

Doctor Richard finishes up with the bandaging. He tells me he will come back later.

"In addition, you need to practice your writing. Do that before lunch." He waves and walks out. Like I need to be told.

The thought of holding a pencil exasperates me. I am, no, I was, right handed.

I have schoolwork, which is so kindly sent to me. Instead, I procrastinate. I lay back on my bed. Sleep is the only point to my life now, the only thing that feels good anymore.

"I'll do my work closer to lunch," I tell myself, my gaze shifting up toward to the ceiling. My eyes became unfocused without my glasses. I don't have them anymore.

My bed is close to the windows, so I close my eyes to block out the sunlight reflecting off the white washed walls. Unintentionally, but totally intentionally as well, I fall asleep.