Branches Book

BRANCHES

looking for is a human donor for his skin and ribs to leave minimum scarring. ” “Take mine.” I said, “I’ve already given him my foot and my index finger, his body didn’t reject it, it will work.” The nurse looked at me and asked if I was sure I could handle it. I told her I could handle anything if it saved his life. She took me to Eric’s room where I removed two of my ribs and the skin on the left side of my body and gave them to Eric. He woke up after, and looking healthy. I felt myself getting weaker. The ugly synthetic skin and ribs they had put on me to replace the skin I gave him made me look different. I didn’t feel like my body was mine anymore. But it was all worth it. He was healthy. The exhaustion of the day and all the wounds that were trying to heal on my body made me very tired. I needed to rest, so Kevin brought me home so I could rest before seeing Eric again. Kevin woke me up a few hours later. He had a serious look on his face. He told me that there was more damage than they initially thought and he needed another skin graft. I told him I would do it. He told me that it was a brave sacrifice I was making and I told him I understood the consequences. That was a lie. Next thing I remember I was waking up in my bed alone, once again. I stood up, and slowly walked over to the bathroom mirror with my crutches. I burst into tears. There was a huge scar in the middle of my face going from my hairline to the side of my neck. One side was fully synthetic; it was a light pink color. The other side was swollen and red from the cutting and gluing. My left ear was missing. My lips were gone. It hurt to cry but there was nothing else to do in that moment but cry. I hated the synthetic parts of myself. My ribs, my skin, my finger, my face and my foot. I was hideous. I ripped off my dress and observed the rest of my body. I traced the outline of the synthetic parts. I needed to talk to Eric. I grabbed my phone and pressed it to the ear that was still my own. It rang for what felt like forever. He didn’t pick up, so I had to leave him a voicemail. I asked him to meet me at the coffee shop next to the clinic at 5pm. He messaged me a few hours later telling me he’d be there and that he had something to tell me. I got to the café before he’d arrived. I sat down at a little table and tried to think of what he would say when he saw me. Would he thank me for giving him everything I had? Would he still love me? Had I changed too much? And then, the questions stopped pouring the moment I saw him walk in. He looked around for a bit, something was wrong. he couldn’t see me. I was right there, and he didn’t see me. He turned around and walked out the door. I followed him out the door with my eyes, and I realized that he hadn’t recognized me and left.

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