Dazed and Confused
A/N: Yup, you heard it right. I'm back. And I'm back in a big way, too-- this chapter is the longest I've ever written. I'm rather proud of myself. Personally, I think that it's the best chapter yet. But you'll have to be the judge of that, won't you?
First of all, I would like to apologize profusely for the delay in getting this chapter up. I know I said I'd try to have it done in less than a month, and I know it's been over three. I am really, really, really sorry. Just... things have been insane. Seriously. Remember how I said that hopefully the arrival of summer would bring more time? Yeah. So not true. Also, this chapter took a lot more time to write because it's so lengthy. And the reason that it's so long is because, for the challenge, the story can be no more than five chapters. Which means that I have to pack a lot of stuff into each one. Please forgive me for taking so long. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait.
Second, thank you all so much for the support you've given this story. I still can't believe the response that this has recieved, and I love every single review. I can't tell you how much it means to me. (And yeah, I know I sound like a weepy soap star, but give me a break, okay?) So I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed since chapter two:
raee, Silidons, CullenLove, Ella Cinders, Wings of Water- SKYE, o0Elizabeth Cullen0o, EdwardAddict, kaylormonkey, CrimsonScarz, .Dr1v3n t0 1n5aN1Ty., Myrah, icydragon14, Aqua279, Stephanie Pascal (formerly x Step on Me x), Edward brought sexy back, Venomous Angel 75, plainlyironic, Marie, Pyromaniac-Girl, Set.Me.Free.123, Mew-Sahara, nightline6, xx-fazzems-xx, XIII Dragon, Dreams-of-Oompa-Loompas, fireandice226, XIrishXDreamerX, Batgirl, paper-mate2, Crazyanimeluva, rebekahsc, RogueSummersLover, kanpai7440, Dark Emo Shadow, amberdark, scarily obsessed, kakadumitters, Winged kunai, and mockingbird22.
I don't know if anybody ever actually reads that blob of names, but I need to give credit to all the wonderful people who brighten my days somehow. Thanks, you guys!
Also, if you haven't already, be sure to check out my other MR story, a parody of The Angel Experiment. If you're waiting for an update on that, know that lately I've been devoting all my writing time to this chapter, but I do have plans to continue with it. Really, how could I not? It's way too much fun.
And about the next update for this story: I'm not going to make any impossible promises this time. But I do promise that I will get it completed as soon as I can, and although I'm not sure when that will be, I will try my best to make it fairly fast.
Warning: This chapter contains heavy references to certain feminine issues. (Sorry, boys. But hopefully you'll be able to handle it.) Also some mild swearing.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, etc. But I own my plot. Yay for me.
And now, on to chapter three. Enjoy!
Chapter Three: Steps and Stains
Well, there's a lot to be said for Chinese takeout.
Especially when the guy can't speak English to save his life. And gets all weirded out by us even though we restrained ourselves and only ordered three servings of pan-fried dumplings, two of lo mein chicken, three sesame noodles, one of those beef and broccoli dishes, one moo goo gai pan, two of the mu shu pork, and four extra servings of rice. And starts mumbling something in Chinese, probably something along the lines of how we're demon children come to get him. And practically refuses to give us our food until I literally take my money and shove it under his big, hairy nose.
Jeez. Only three orders of dumplings. Talk about overreacting.
Anyway, as I was saying, there's a lot to be said for Chinese takeout. Not all of it is pleasant, but I was mainly concerned about the fact that—even though it was a righteous pain in the butt to get—it was still a heck of a lot better than I would have done. Yes, we all know about my fabulous cooking skills.
"Look, I'm a walrus!" Gazzy cried as he stuck his chopsticks up his nose yet again. I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Nothing like an eight-year-old's sense of humor.
"Gazzy," I explained patiently, "it was funny the first time. It was not so funny the second time. It was even less funny the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth times. It's really not funny now."
"Okay," he said sweetly, extracting the chopsticks from his nose, before crying: "Nudge! Let's have a chopstick war!"
Sometime, amidst all the distraction, Fang came silently up to me and touched my shoulder to inform me of his presence. To my horror, my cheeks grew hot.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," I managed.
Fang seemed to be struggling. "Look," he said finally, "you've been acting kind of weird lately. What's up?"
I tried to act casual, tried to act as Iggy would, tried not to show that I was panicking on the inside. "Nothing," I said, but I couldn't help the slight wobble in my voice. "I'm fine. Really."
I didn't need to see his face to know that he was searching my face with his penetrating eyes, trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not.
"Okay," he said somewhat skeptically. "What about Max, though? She's been acting odd; you can't deny that."
I couldn't help it: I tensed. Fang seemed to notice it, because when he spoke, his tone was grim.
"What's going on between you two?"
"Touché!" Nudge cried as she poked Gazzy with her chopstick. Neither of us paid them any mind.
I knew that Fang's dark eyes were still probing every inch of my face, could feel the warmth of his closeness. "What do you mean?" I demanded. "There is nothing going on between me and Max. I—"
"What?" he pushed.
"Nothing," I said, standing up. "Just forget it."
"Ig," he called. I pretended not to hear him as I walked away.
I strode onto the front porch and sat on the steps. Under normal circumstances I would have gone flying, but I didn't quite trust myself with that yet. I'd already had an introduction to the wall; I wasn't exactly in the mood to socialize with the trees. I just needed to think.
I really had to crack down on this whole acting-like-Iggy thing. Acting as leader was not okay. Running into walls was not okay. Blushing around Fang was definitely not okay. Where had that come from, anyway? And what did Fang think was going on between me and Iggy?
I sunk my head into my hands. It was only then that I heard the sound of crickets chirping and realized that it must be nightfall. I panicked for a moment before remembering once again: I was Iggy. I didn't have to do get the kids ready for bed or anything. I chuckled, wondering what on earth they would think if Iggy came and tucked them in.
I stood slowly and felt my way inside. I inched over to the staircase and winced. As sad as it was, I wasn't sure that I could get up it without help. "Max?" I hissed.
There was no response. Groaning internally, I tried again, a little louder. "Max?"
But Iggy didn't answer. I swore inside my head, thankful that Angel wasn't around.
Well, I guess I had to start getting around on my own sometime. If I remembered correctly, there were sixteen steps. Sixteen. Okay. I could do this.
Wishing fervently for a handrail (it had collapsed long before we arrived), I put my foot on the first step and pulled myself up.
I allowed myself to crack a grin. This wasn't so bad. It seemed almost comical that ten seconds ago I had been far more terrified of a staircase than any Erasers that could bust our hideout. I lifted my foot again and repeated the process.
Two, three, four…
I was cruising now. Really, I think I was starting to get used to being blind. Of course, it still completely sucked not being able to see, but at least I could walk now.
Eight, nine, ten…
I laughed at how utterly out of proportion I had blown the whole staircase thing. It was a piece of cake. Sixteen steps were nothing.
Fourteen, fifteen, six—
And then my foot crashed through air, I completely lost my balance and landed flat on my face, and an explosion of swearing that could have woken Angel from a mile away erupted inside my head.
Fifteen. There were only fifteen steps. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. I pounded the floor ferociously. What? It deserved it.
I was not used to being blind; I suspected that I would never be. The "whole staircase thing" was not blown out of proportion. That staircase was terrifying. It was pure evil. It was out to get me.
Don't laugh—it'll be after you next.
With as much dignity as I could manage (i.e., not very much), I stood and brushed myself off. I could deal with the evil staircase later; right now I just wanted to sleep. It had been a long, long day.
Iggy's room was the third door on the left after the turn. And the turn… I paused, trying to remember the exact location of the turn that led to Iggy, Gazzy, and Fang's rooms. I was pretty sure that it was about fifteen feet from the top of the staircase. Gauging how long that would take to reach, I took a deep breath and walked forward. So far, so good.
I should have seen it coming; I should have expected it—because heaven forbid my life be anything remotely resembling easy, right?
I crashed into the wall. My face smashed against it; my hands came up by my side to push on it for support. Every part of me seemed to be shoved into that horrible paneling.
And I was completely, utterly, officially pissed.
"Oh, crap," I mouthed against the wall, hardly noticing and certainly not caring that I was talking to myself. "Crap, crap, crap!" My vocabulary seemed to have momentarily condensed to that single word. "CRAP!"
Stupid wall. Probably it was in a conspiracy with the staircase.
"This is absolutely ridiculous," I went on. My lips brushed against the dusty surface, but it hardly registered in my mind. "I hate being blind. I hate it, hate it, hate it! I need to get back. I need to get back."
I had completely snapped. I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't know how Iggy got used to this, but it definitely wasn't working for me. "Crap," I said again, just to enforce the point.
"Um… Iggy?" my voice said.
"Hmm?" I mumbled, still fuming silently.
There was an uneasy pause, during which I could practically hear Iggy smirking. Crap, crap, crap. And then it came.
"…Why are you making out with a wall?"
"What?" I squeaked, tearing my face away from the wall. How did he come up with—
"Sure," he snickered. "Thinking of Fnick?"
My cheeks flamed. Like I was going to think of anything else, now. "No!" I cried. "How—how could you—"
"Aw, look," he crooned, "you're blushing! How cute… Hey! Ow!"
I grinned as my fist hit its target. Iggy so deserved that.
"What was that for?" he cried indignantly. I shrugged and smirked.
Iggy huffed in exasperation. "You two are so obvious," he muttered.
I blinked in confusion. What?
"Do you really not see it?" Iggy said wonderingly. "God, are you blind."
I snorted. "That's rich, coming from you."
Iggy snorted right back. "No," he said, "sometimes I think I'm the only one of us who can see." Then he brushed past me to retreat into his—well, my—room, shutting the door none too quietly after him.
Leaving me standing in the middle of the hall, still very blind and wondering what the h-e-double toothpicks was going on.
What had Iggy meant by that? "You two are so obvious." Who, Fang and me? Obvious about what?
A thought struck me, and I couldn't help but laugh aloud. It was absolutely preposterous. Surely Iggy didn't think that Fang and I… well…
Yup. Completely ridiculous.
But then what was the whole deal with the "thinking of Fnick" thing? Why would he suggest that I was thinking of Fang after accusing me of making out with a wall? And how about "Do you really not see it?" See what? What on earth was Iggy talking about?
I tried to think, but mind just kept coming back to the only answer that seemed to make any bit of sense. But why would Iggy think that Fang and I… loved each other? That's just…no, okay? No. Fang didn't love me, not like that. And I certainly didn't love Fang!
Fang was my best friend, my second-in-command, the one person I could always trust and depend upon. It was natural for me to feel something for him. But that didn't explain why I was always blushing around him, or why my pulse quickened whenever he touched me. Or why I'd kissed him at the beach that one time.
Then I thought of Fang, how his dark eyes would stare into mine and I would feel like he could see everything inside of me. How we would talk, just the two of us, and he would always understand like no one else could.
How his warm mouth had felt under mine…
I was having a heated argument with myself, and I was losing.
And then, all at once, my body seemed to tingle all over as I thought of him once more, and I finally realized what I had been avoiding for so long.
I was in love with Fang.
And oh, man, I was not happy about it.
"Why are you making out with a wall?" I heard Max say.
What? I thought. Iggy, making out with a wall? I've got to see this one…
I left my post at our laptop where I was composing a blog entry and inched towards the doorway. Peering out of the crack between the door and frame, I saw Iggy leaning against the wall as Max smirked.
"What?" Iggy squeaked, and I suppressed a smirk of my own. "I—I wasn't—"
"Sure," Max said, rolling her eyes. "Thinking of Fnick?"
Thinking of—wait, what? Why Iggy be thinking of me? Especially while allegedly making out with a wall?
What was Max implying there? Surely she didn't think that… Iggy…
All right, I know Iggy's not gay. Many past discussions, mostly during the time we were at Anne's, had shown this. That girl—what was her name? Trish? Tess?
To my utter confusion, he began to turn bright red.
"No!" he cried indignantly. "How—how could you—"
What was up with all this stumbling over words? Iggy had been doing a lot more of that the past few days, and I had absolutely no idea why. He was just acting so odd lately.
"Aw, look," Max said, taunting, "you're blushing! How cute…"
Okay, what the hell? Did Max really think that Iggy liked me or something? I shuddered at the thought. And why was she acting so… I don't know, supportive, even? I'd thought that… maybe she…
"Hey! Ow!" Max exclaimed as Iggy dealt a strong blow to her shoulder, and even though she probably deserved it, I still had to restrain myself from yelling at him for hitting her. Max was tough; Max could fight her own battles; besides, I highly doubted that she would want me interfering. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at anyone who attacked her.
"What was that for?" she asked, a look of mock hurt on her face. Iggy merely grinned.
Max exhaled heavily, rolling her eyes. "You two are so obvious."
What? Who was obvious? Surely not me and Iggy? I'm pretty sure that Iggy's straight, but I'm absolutely certain that I am. God, I do not like men! I like…
No, I'm not going to go there. Not now.
"Do you really not see it?" Max was saying, but I had heard enough. I withdrew back into my room, back to my blog. But as I stared at the screen, I couldn't think of a single thing to say. The only thoughts I managed flicked back to the conversation I had just heard.
Why did Max think that Iggy and I…? Nothing could be farther from the truth. I would never, ever, in a million years like Iggy like that.
No, there was only one person who I liked, and it sure as hell wasn't him.
I sat back and let the inescapable reality flow over me once more: I was in love with Max. Sad? Yes. Hopeless? Also yes. Yet there was no way that I could change it, even though I knew it would probably never happen. Max was too strong, too stubborn, too amazing.
But over the past month or so, I had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something there.
…And now here she was, basically stating that Iggy and I were gay.
Great. Just freaking great.
I admit, I'd wondered why Iggy had been acting so odd. He was always flushed around me; he appeared unsure of what to say; he almost seemed like he didn't know who he was anymore. But I'd never thought that he was gay. I'd even wondered if he liked Max, which had seemed semi-logical. They were spending so much time together lately. There was something going on between the two of them, I was sure. And the way they were holding on to each other earlier tonight… I felt my fists clench involuntarily.
Oh, God, I was so confused.
I loved Max, Iggy might also like her, Max thought that Iggy liked me, and Max herself… I wasn't sure about Max's feelings. Ever since that bomb went off, nothing seemed certain anymore.
Not even, it appeared, Iggy's…erm, orientation.
As I finally sank into sleep that night, my dreams were troubled and confused. Max and I were flying alone, soaring through the clear, open sky, and she looked at me with a gaze full of pure love. Then we were on an island, frolicking in the soft white sand; everything was perfect; I leaned in to kiss her…
And suddenly Max was Iggy, eyes closed and lips parted, and when I started to backpedal he leaned in himself. I tried to pull away, but it was too late. Max was standing on the sand beside us; she was yelling something and I began to explain, but then I realized that it was Iggy she was yelling at, not me. Iggy tried to apologize, but Max was storming away, fiercely wiping tears from her eyes. I called after her, but it was useless; she was already in the sky by then, zooming far away with her superspeed.
I woke with a start, jolting upright in bed. Sweat dripped down my forehead. I lay back with a sigh, but when I closed my eyes the images from my dream swam before me: Iggy leaning in, Max's tearful face. I rolled over and stared at the wall. There was no way I was going to be able to get back to sleep.
Just what, exactly, was going on with everyone?
I yawned and stretched as I woke, relishing in the warmth of the sunlight on my face. I squinted happily against the sudden brightness. Yeah, being in Max's body was weird and I had no intention of remaining like this, but it was just so awesome to be able to see again.
After a moment of reflection, I threw off the covers and clambered out of bed. Today would be a great day. Today I could enjoy my sight, mess with Fang's mind a little more, and maybe start to work out how to switch back.
I thought about my plans for the day, revising and switching things around where necessary. And then I realized one, very important thing.
I really needed to pee.
My cheeks grew hot as I contemplated this action, but there was no alternative. I needed to pee, and I needed to pee now. I just… I just wouldn't look, that was all. Easy.
Crap, this was going to be awkward.
With my face still flaming red, I shuffled towards the bathroom. Mentally steadying myself, I shut the door and pulled down my pajamas.
To find my underpants completely drenched in blood.
Oh, my God.
I couldn't think, couldn't do anything. Even the pressing urge to pee was shoved to the back of my mind. Max was bleeding… er, there. That was not good. At all. I knew vomiting blood was a sign of death; I'd never heard about bleeding there, but what if it meant the same thing? Or… was this a sign of her expiration date? Could Max be dying?
And—oh, God, my brain was paralyzed—if Max's body died, would I die? Or Max? Or both of us?
Yanking my plaid pajama pants upward, I strode out of the bathroom and down the hall towards my real room. How could I tell Max about this…? But she needed to know…
"Iggy!" I called frantically as I neared the door. "Iggy!" I pounded on the wood, but there was still no response. Throwing all caution to the winds, I flung open the door.
My body sat up in bed at the sudden noise. "What the crap?" Max said incredulously.
"Er… Iggy… I've got to talk to you," I said. Max was still giving me a blank expression. "Now," I added forcibly.
"Okay, okay, I'm up," she mumbled, shaking her head. "What's wrong?"
I shut the door behind me, not sure if I wanted the others to know about Max's predicament just yet. "Listen… Max…" I began. "I think there's something wrong with you."
Max's expression changed from one of confusion to one of slight hurt. "Well, gee, thanks. Glad to know I'm so appreciated."
"Not like that!" I said, somewhat irritated. "You're a great person. I meant… your body. I think there's something wrong. Something serious."
Max raised her eyebrows. "Besides being a mutant freak with wings?"
I huffed in exasperation. "Max, this is serious," I reiterated.
"So we've established," she muttered.
Now I understood Max's frustration at sending me all those death glares that I couldn't see.
"Well," she said, apparently trying to lighten the mood, "what is so seriously wrong with my body?"
I gulped. "I... I think… you might be dying."
"What?" came her cry. Clearly, that had gotten her attention.
"I think you might be dying."
"No, I heard you," she said, shaking her head, "but… what?"
I didn't know how to respond.
"How can you tell? How do you…" she trailed off.
"I—well, it's—you're bleeding." My face flamed again. "A lot."
Max seemed to be contemplating something. "Where?" she asked.
If I had thought that my face couldn't get any more red, I had been so wrong. "Er… well…"
Max quirked an eyebrow.
"…Down there," I finished.
Max's expression began to shift from a mixture of confusion and fear to one of something else that I couldn't quite detect. "Down… there?" she repeated.
"Um, yeah," I said, grateful for her newfound blindness. I squirmed.
Max's breath came out in a whoosh. "Ig, that… well, it happens every month or so."
I stared, uncomprehending. Every month or so? Then…
"How long has this been going on?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach.
She shrugged. "I dunno. About a year."
A year? A year? Max had been dying for a year and she hadn't told us? We could have helped her, could have done something… How long did she have? Oh, God…
"Why didn't you tell us?" I blurted, my built-up fear and frustration threatening to explode. I paced the room. "A year, Max, a year! God!"
"Does Fang know?" I asked, and she shook her head. "You didn't tell anyone?"
Max sighed. "Ig, this isn't really something that all you guys needed to know—"
"Oh, no," I spat, "the fact that you're dying isn't important at all; why should you bother us with a trivial thing like that?"
Max was silent.
I took a closer look at her face then. She seemed to be struggling… against what, I couldn't tell. Her expression contorted; she seemed to be fighting a losing battle. A choked sound escaped her throat. Could it be… tears?
I could count on one hand the times I had seen—or, rather, heard—Max cry. And yet here she was, about to break down in front of me. Why was she so upset? Was it guilt at having kept this from us for so long? Fear of what could happen to her?
Another strangled noise, and all my anger evaporated in an instant. I knelt beside her. "Oh, Max," I murmured. "It'll be okay. You'll—you'll get through this."
And then Max dissolved into laughter, and suddenly I realized that it hadn't been tears she was struggling against after all.
"You… thought… dying…" she barely choked out. Tears, not of sadness but mirth, streamed down her cheeks and dripped onto her neck.
I stared incredulously. "You mean… you're not?" What else was I supposed to think? It was the only logical conclusion!
Max gave another howl of laughter. I began to fear for her sanity.
"Ig," she gasped, "I'm not dying."
My brain struggled to grasp this concept. "Then… what…"
"It's normal," she said, still not fully containing her amusement.
Normal? Normal? Look, I'd seen the stuff, and that did not look normal to me. People just didn't bleed there, okay?
Although Max couldn't see my blank stare, she seemed to sense it, because she sighed. "It's a woman thing, all right?"
A… woman thing?
My face felt hot enough to fry bacon. I think I had heard of that somewhere, after all; I just never thought about it happening to Max. That's a rather disturbing thought about someone who's practically your sister.
But sheesh. She could have just told me straight away, instead of making me think that she was dying!
"So," I gulped, still digesting this new development, "what do we do now?"
Max muttered something unintelligible.
"What was that?" I asked as politely as I could manage.
She briefly closed her eyes. "I said, 'pads.'"
I remained silent, still confused. What was she going on about now? "And by that you mean…?"
"Pads," Max hissed, looking as though on the verge of hysterics again. "Go into my bathroom. In the drawer beneath the sink you'll find a packet of pads. You peel off the paper and put the sticky bit on your underwear, okay?"
I shook my head. "I'm sorry… what?"
She groaned, but couldn't completely hide the chuckle that escaped her lips. "This is so awkward," she grumbled.
I rolled my eyes in response. "You're telling me."
Max let herself laugh fully now, although I still couldn't see what was so damn funny. "Just do it, all right? It'll absorb the blood."
I winced as the sickening mental image of the stain once again invaded my brain. I was no stranger to blood, but when it came from there it was enough to make any man feel nauseous. "Okay," I gulped.
The sound of Max's laughter rang in my ears even after I shut the door behind me.
I entered the bathroom, closing the door soundly. Steeling myself, I opened the drawer below the sink and pulled out a pink package with the word Tampax splayed across it. I swallowed nervously.
I'd battled Erasers. I'd built bombs. I'd flown cross-country, escaped from the School, and invaded Itex. And here I was, cowering in terror because I had to deal with some… feminine issues. I was a man, for God's sake. I should be able to handle this.
Or maybe that was just it: I was a man. A six-foot-three, testosterone-charged, male almost-human. I shouldn't have to deal with this. It was cruel and unusual torture.
But there was nothing I could do about it yet, so I merely sighed and resigned myself to the task. I pulled one of the "pads" out of the package and ripped off the paper surrounding it. I stared at it in surprise. It was shaped like a cylinder with a little string on the end, and it was pretty small. How was this supposed to absorb all the blood? I shook my head, but figured that Max probably knew what she was talking about. I looked for the sticky bit that she had mentioned, but I couldn't find it.
"Crap," I muttered.
With the pad in hand, I marched towards my room. "Max," I called, knocking on the door, "I need some help."
Max beckoned me inside. "What is it now?"
"I can't find the sticky part," I said, frustration seeping into my tone. "How am I supposed to get it on?"
She sighed. "Hand it over," she ordered, and I complied.
As Max twisted the object in her hands, I noticed a familiar expression of struggling creeping onto her face. I cursed mentally. This couldn't be good.
"Ig," Max said, clearly restraining herself, "this isn't a pad."
What? But it was where she said they were! And what else was it supposed to be, anyway? "Then… what is it?"
Max let out a chuckle that she quickly tried to disguise as a cough. "Well… it's for more or less the same thing, but it doesn't go on your underwear."
I stared at her blankly. "Where does it go, then?"
The tips of her ears smoldered a bright red. "Er…"
There was a brief moment of silence, and then I blanched as I suddenly understood. "You mean… it... oh, man, that is just sick," I spat, feeling like I was going to hurl.
"The… other package…" Max managed to spout through her fits of laughter. I shot her a glare as I left the room, wishing she could see it.
True enough, there was another package in the drawer. I scowled as I opened this one to find what was, apparently, a pad. The sooner I'm done with this, the better, I thought as I slapped it haphazardly on my underwear.
It was rather uncomfortable and I found myself walking awkwardly. Perhaps I hadn't put it on carefully enough, but honestly I couldn't bring myself to care. How girls dealt with this every month was beyond me.
When I thought I had regained my composure enough, I started downstairs. "Um… Max?" Fang said as soon as he saw my clumsy gait. "Are you all right?"
I narrowed my eyes. I wanted to say, "No, Fang, I am not all right! I'm stuck inside a girl's body, forced to have you drooling over me all the time, and I have just been more humiliated than ever before. Not to mention that I'm probably scarred for life. Yup, things are just dandy." But since I am (generally) a nice and sensible person, I merely ground out through my teeth, "I. Am. Fine."
Fang's expression indicated that he thought otherwise, but I ignored him and plopped down at the kitchen table.
Things had gotten way out of control. I was done. Completely. Suddenly I no longer cared about being able to see—I just wanted to be back in my own body, sight or no sight. And the more I thought about it, the more it cemented in my mind.
I wanted out of this body. And good God, I wanted out now.
Well, if you've gotten this far, I must congratulate you-- I know it's pretty long. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway. As always, I would love to hear your opinions. Thanks for reading!