Beautiful: Truth's Found When Beauty's Lost Part 9

I nominate Erica Howe for Outsider Homecoming Queen. She's a pianist at the senior center.

You can't nominate yourself, Erica.

I went to Stasia's memorial. It was really sad.

Where's the Outsider?

I don't know, but on Redding Higher blog they have a bunch more info.

The beep sounded again. Annoying, rhythmic, constant. Like Chinese water torture. A clock made a tick, tick sound. Voices came through the fog like poison darts. .h.i.tting her unsuspectedly, bringing a dull pain that grew so sharp and heavy she wanted to scream.

"She's awake. I think she's awake."

"No, she's not awake."

Then a familiar woman's voice was whispering, but was nearly hysterical. Was it Mom?

"Her eyes are moving. Ellie, can you hear me? Does that mean she's dreaming? Dreaming must be good. It means her brain . . . is okay."

"Jane, she's going to be okay. All of her will be."

The conversation might have been entertaining, except that each word spoken by whoever was in the room was too loud, too painful against her body that felt ripped into a million tiny shreds. She couldn't get to them either, to hear who they were talking about, to tell them to be quiet, someone was trying to sleep here.

Go away, Ellie tried to say.

"She is awake!" someone said, and there was movement and rustling that echoed away like a slow falling down into darkness.

Time had pa.s.sed. Ellie could sense this as she tried to open eyes that were weighted down with something. But where was she? What were the sounds she heard but couldn't see?

Ellie and her sister were playing in a blue plastic swimming pool. Ellie liked to lie flat on her back under the water and open her eyes. She could see the trees and sky through the s.h.i.+mmering water. Then her sister brought the hose, and water gushed from the end, erupting her sight into a whirling scene. And again, she was being sucked from that light toward darkness.

PAIN . . .

PAIN.

PAIN!.

It screamed in her ears, a white-hot light in her eyes. Her brain was on fire. She was on fire. The world was on fire. G.o.d, help me . . .

It woke her again like a raging bull with its horns on fire.

Pain.

Fiery hot, searing, screaming, mind expanding and contracting. Everything in her was on fire. A car was burning, and there were people around her now, doctors and nurses with masks over their faces and their eyes staring at something below her, and then also above her. And they wouldn't put her out. She tried to scream and flail around, but they held her there, pouring liquid fire, cutting with molten tools, searing off her body.

"We have to do this, Ellie," someone said.

The pain was eternal. The lake of fire for all eternity. All her praying, her life for G.o.d, and she'd gone wrong. It was all wrong. She was in h.e.l.l, and people just watched her. She was in h.e.l.l for believing the wrong G.o.d or for being a failure or for something she'd done wrong.

Jesus, Jesus, where are You? G.o.d, somebody, anybody, help me. Make them stop!

"Mom!" she cried, and Mom was there with a mask over her face, and she was crying too.

"Sweetie, you'll be okay. They're going to make you better."

"Don't let them hurt me anymore."

The cycle continued. When she was not in the depths of darkness, pain filled her being. It woke her and coursed through her like acid in her veins.

There was something going on outside. Pain was there, eating at her, ripping away her body. Ellie could feel every bit of it, and yet, strangely, she was somewhat safe deep down in this place she'd found. She'd been in an accident. She was in a hospital; she'd figured that out from the brief pa.s.sing times of consciousness that brought her voices and blurred images.

Sometimes in her head Ellie thought of funny things to say to people. Finally she had the chance to think them up in advance. People would laugh, she knew. But then later, she couldn't remember them, or the memories, or anything much at all.

Then Ryan was there, and Ellie realized he'd been there before. Mostly it had been her parents and nurses and doctors. But right now, she was sure of it, Ryan was there with her. She could hear his voice.

There was no hand-holding, touching her chin, or leaning her head on his shoulder. Ellie could only open her right eye for some reason, and that took such effort.

A chair was pulled up by her bedside. But a screen divided them. He was s.h.i.+mmery behind plastic, like she was once again looking at the world from beneath the water. She put her hand to the plastic, and Ryan appeared anxious and happy but worried suddenly.

She tried to tell him something. He came closer, pressing up against the plastic until it distorted his face.

"Remember . . ." Ellie said.

"What?" he asked with a look of panic.

She formed the words in her head, seeing the letters of each as though she were typing a text message. With the greatest effort, she said the words again. "Remember. No or-gan music."

She thought he might laugh, which she wanted before falling back to sleep. The darkness was pulling her back down like a feather falling gently to earth. But there was no laughing. He was crying. He was sobbing with his hand over his mouth and his head on the edge of the bed. If only she could lift her hand and set it on his head, tell him she was kidding, that she was fine.

Why didn't he laugh? she wondered halfway down inside the deep place. And it struck her like a wicked blow that sent her toppling end over end. She was worse off than she knew.

He didn't laugh because it wasn't a joke.

Chapter 7.

Megan tied the mask that covered her mouth, completing her surgical outfit before the nurse motioned her toward the door. She paused a moment, then forced her feet to move forward.

For the past two weeks she'd avoided this moment. When her turn to go into Ellie's room had come, she'd let Ryan go instead, even if only family was supposed to be allowed. They'd said he was her brother. She wanted to see her sister, and she didn't want to see her.

Mom always came out crying. She'd been given little white pills to get her through the days. Dad hugged Megan constantly now, and it was driving her crazy.

She was sick of this place with all the hushed discussion, hugging, tears, and sterile, harshly lit halls and waiting rooms. She was sick of hospital food. She'd gotten so sick of the disgusted looks of pa.s.sersby when she had sneaked out to smoke that she'd tossed her cigarettes into the trash. Now her hands felt shaky, and she realized that she really had become hooked on the stupid "cancer sticks"-as Grandfather had called them as he lit one for her.

She stood at the door. The room was cold and nearly empty of furnis.h.i.+ngs. There were machines, wires and tubes, a pumping noise and beeping sounds. Everything was focused on the body on the bed draped with a plastic cover. The body that wasn't moving, only lying there like something from a sci-fi movie. The body that was her sister.

Megan took careful steps forward, as if she might wake Ellie, or as if she were approaching a corpse.

Ellie wasn't conscious, whether from the pain medication or the accident, Megan didn't know. She hadn't been fully conscious since the accident.

And then Megan saw Ellie's face, but it couldn't be Ellie-it looked nothing like her. Her hand went to her already covered mouth. She'd come to talk to her sister and to tell her that everything was okay and that she'd soon be back to her old self again.

But Megan couldn't say anything. She stared, with her hand near her masked mouth. This couldn't be her sister. They'd made a mistake. Her face was swollen, and one side was covered in thick gel. That side was the worst, with blisters and cuts and fierce wounds so disgusting Megan thought she might vomit. But the other side, though swollen, could be recognized as Ellie when she really looked. And the hair was the right color.

There was a lone chair by the bed. She forced her feet to it, one step after another. Sitting down, Megan decided to look at her sister's right arm and hand that had only a few sc.r.a.pes and Ellie's perfect skin. She breathed deeply to calm herself, but the smell in the room made her ill. It was medicinal and smelled of burnt flesh.

"Hey, Ellie," she whispered. "It's Megan. Bet you didn't expect me. It's true; they called in the big sister."

Tears were falling from her eyes as she carefully reached for her sister's hand. She remembered how, as a little girl, Ellie always wanted to hold her hand, but Megan didn't like it. Ellie liked to watch TV with her head on Megan's shoulder, and she'd sneak into bed with Megan, too, which was something Megan did like because she was a little afraid of the dark. Mom had pictures of them as two little girls curled together asleep.

"You're going to be okay. Before you know it, you'll be back to school with your schedule all organized, planning some fund-raiser. So keep fighting, okay? I'll come back soon."

And she hurried out.

Megan couldn't breathe, but pushed her feet to move past Dad, who called after her, and all the way to the first exit she could find.

She closed her eyes, bent down as she gasped for the fresh air to fill her lungs.

Someone once said that Megan was more of an exotic beauty, while Ellie was fresh faced and natural, whatever that meant. Guys often found Megan attractive and her sarcastic demeanor intimidating or intriguing. Usually guys who expected things went after her.

But what would it be like to really be naturally beautiful? To go running or wake in the morning and still look pretty? Megan wouldn't know, but Ellie lived that every day. Or had. What would it be like to have your beauty taken away?

"We thought we lost you," Ellie heard her dad say.

The sound of someone crying came from farther off.

"Mom, you can't keep crying when you come in here. It's not good for her."

Megan's voice. So that would be her mother crying.

The more she woke, the more pain pulsated through her. Ellie wanted to go back to the safety of sleep or unconsciousness-it didn't matter what it was, just anything away from the pain.

"Let her rest," Mom said between sobs.

"The doctor said to start waking her up. Talking to her."

Megan again, scolding Mom with her tone.

The room came into focus. White everything, then shapes, then faces. The people wore medical gowns and hats. The people were her family. Her mother was sobbing from the corner. Her sister stood near the door, biting her nails and staring at her.

Don't bite your nails, Megan, she wanted to say.

"Do you know what happened?"

Dad again.

She remembered seeing an accident on the side of the road, a truck in the river. Maybe that was a different accident.

"You were in a car accident."

Her father spoke clearly and with confidence.

Then she remembered. Their accident after the truck accident.

"Stasia?" Ellie tried to say. Her father was there beside her, sitting on a chair. He leaned in close to hear her. "Where's Stasia?" she tried to force out.

"She's asking about Stasia," her father said, turning away from her.

Mom burst into more tears and hurried from the room.

Megan shook her head toward Dad. "Not yet. Wait till she's better," she said softly without coming closer.

But Ellie realized she already knew. That night had been with her, playing over and over in some corner of her brain. Ellie hadn't been able to get out of the car. Her legs were trapped, but she wasn't in pain. It was all so surreal, the world was messed up, and yet she knew they'd been in an accident, they had to get out of the car, and they had to get some help. Her head was throbbing, or maybe her eye. She tried looking around and calling for Stasia. And then she saw her, right beside her and yet hardly visible. The front of the car had smashed into the driver's seat. Stasia was pushed partway to the back. Ellie tried to reach for her hand. She could see a little ring on her pinkie finger. Ellie called to her. Stasia wouldn't answer her. Stasia wasn't moving.

Stasia was dead. She was dead beside her before the fire began.

Fire. There had been a fire in the car.

Now it was making sense. Now she understood her mother's continued crying. And Ellie wondered why they hadn't just let her die.

Chapter 8.

THE OUTSIDER.