THE ART OF MOVING ON ➳ S. STRANGE

One.

          Her eyes opened. She did not know where she was and she hurt too much but she knew she was alive; constant beeps of the monitors she had become familiar with over the years rang in her ears. Suddenly she began choking. Initially she had not realised there was a tube inserted her throat and that had been a dangerous thing to do. Camille drifted back into a sleepy haze as someone gave her more sedatives so the doctors could remove the tube before Camille could cause any damage.

          Once again her eyes opened. This time her eyelids felt much too heavy so stayed conscious without her sight.

"Sir, we cannot do anything until Ms Liu is conscious again and there is no guarantee that she will wake up again," the voice sounded foreign to her but so recognisable.

"She is breathing on her own," a male voice with a slight accent spoke.

"Her condition has not changed since she became conscious."

"At least she was conscious."

"-op it," Camille's throat burned as she barely managed the two words.

          Hours later a conversation began. Camille was now sat up and could see her body wrapped in bandages. Nobody would allow the woman to look in the mirror but the doctor had explained what had happened. The plane she was on a crashed and exploded and it was a miracle that Camille was still alive. She had been dragged out of the wreckage along with about ten others by people local to where the plane had gone down. Unfortunately, she had not got out unscathed. Camille's clothes caught on fire in the aftermath and she was now covered head to toe in burns. All Camille head done throught the explanation was sit and nod her head slightly. The only course of action now available was skin grafts and there no guarantee that it would work given the burns she had sustained. Camille just nodded when the doctor mentioned the plastic surgery and went back to sleep.

          "Hello sis," a familiar voice woke Camille up, "We are never letting Alexander near a doctor again."

Hearing her sister's voice cheered up Camille immensely however hearing Adelle speak English was a struggle. The only words coming to Camille's mind were those of her native language, the language her American born sister struggled so much to speak.

"What did he . . . ?" After a pause a few words managed to escape Camille's mouth.

"Let's just say he still doesn't believe in modern medicine." Adelle's sentence put an attempt at a smile on Camille's face.

"Some retreat in Nepal?"

"How did you guess?"

"It's the only cure."

The two sisters had an immense language barrier that was transcended only by Adelle's husband. Camille had come to America aged nine and had had to work hard to learn the language of a country she nothing about but Adelle was born in said country and struggled her family's native language. The pair could not have been more different yet in this moment they were closer than they ever had been. Adelle had never seen Camille so vunerable; to her Camille was an hero that worked so hard for everything she wanted. In Camille's head she was so happy her little sister was seeing her so vunerable because she hated being idolized by her. She had always just bottled up her emotions to seem so strong. When their parents had died Camille had not shed a single tear. The only thing she really knew how to do was leave everything behind.