“There were all these people talking on the way here, I think they were looking at me or they noticed me or something. I could feel this searing pain on my neck and my back and my big ass forehead. The sun and their eyes twisted together and stabbed me over and over. I’m only feeling more and more every second. I don’t wanna get used to how this is, I just wanna… I can’t think anymore. I wish I could go back to not thinking at all. Like a baby or a sea urchin or a rock.”

She shuddered to a stop, her mouth hanging open in a grimace betraying the empty hole where fear once was. I wasn’t sure how I could fill that. She was dumbfounded by what she had just spoken into reality. I squeezed her hand, bringing her back to my mellow kitchen.
“Jess you're going to be fine.”
Her eyes tore into mine for something reassuring. After a moment she swallowed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean… I’m probably just crazy is all.”
“I know you’re not crazy. I know your dad would believe you if you told him too. I’m sure he could take care of you better than I could.”
I felt bad telling half truths like that and the discomfort cracked a hole in my presentation of resolve.
“Are you… are you sure? I can just leave if you’re-”
I quickly shut down that worry.
“If he can’t tell you’re genuinely upset and this is serious, he’s an idiot.”
I stood up and walked to her side of the table, keeping my hand on hers.
“And you can stay over tonight if you’re not ready to talk to him yet. I just know it’s not gonna be fun trying to hide that you’re… something’s changed.”
I shuffled through every word I could think of before stopping on something vague.
“Thank you…"
A slight smile pulled at the corner of her lips as sun beams pooled on the table between us. The gray wood felt a little warmer. For a moment, wrinkles of stress and age disappeared in the light. Again I felt a twinge of guilt, but quickly turned to the door before she could notice. A knot began to form in my stomach.
"Give me a moment, I need to go to the bathroom."
"Oh, sorry, of course."

I stepped quickly out of the kitchen and caught a glimpse of my sunken eyes in the mirror; without someone to look after, they appeared empty. I lifted my shirt and looked at the scar tissue, disappearing back into normalcy with each passing day. The look on her father’s face would be the same as my father when I told him, or my mother when he explained to her what had finally happened. I was growing into purity, as they had described the process at the town hall meeting. I couldn’t explain to Jess why this had happened, because I still felt shame creep up on me when I thought of people seeing that my scar had yet to fade. I was imperfect. The rest of the world was full of people who had never been cut open, and none of them understand the way we think. They seem unaware of the size of the woods, of the weakness of the people, of the frailty of our bodies. It can be scary at first but it’s worth being born here, Jess, I promise. That’s what I figured someone else would tell her. Until then I couldn’t hold still. I collapsed, squirming on the bathroom floor, holding my stomach.