2 Weeks After:
"She doesn't need her pain medicine anymore," the doctor says. He looks at me and smiles. "You're healed. In fact, you don't need your bandage anymore."
I look at the white bandage. The one the woman changes each day before bed. Am I ready to see what it looks like? Or will it just give me longing to have it back?
The doctor moves forward and starts to peel the bandage away. I back up.
"I don't want to see it!"
Hesitation. The doctor's hand still holding the bandage. His fingers twitching. "Mandy, you don't have to look."
An impatient look from the woman. A gentle look from the doctor. A look of terror on my face. My emotions are getting the better of me. Anxiety. Surprise. Shock. Fear. Disgust for what is lost. If life gives you these emotions, I don't want to stop taking pills.
Previous to this appointment, the doctor told the woman to hide the pills. That way, when I came in, I would be off of them and he'd get a better look at how I was dealing.
The doctor starts pulling the bandage again and I scream. I don't want to see. I don't want to look. I don't want the bandage off. I tear my shoulder away from him, which ends up leaving the bandage behind. I stare down in shock.
A stub. Skin covering the bottom of it. A purple bruise where the bandage laid. Nausea. A fainting sensation. Stars. Blackness.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Hearts and a Small Glass of Lemonade
Short StoryMandy Gavala suffered from a broken heart before, but it was never compared to this. After her best friend, and boyfriend, die in a car accident that SHE caused, Mandy has to figure out a way to get back on her feet.
