what she wanted to hear. “The guy who was here before you, he was burnedreally badly—that’s why he was in a coma. It was a medically induced coma; they were trying to fix his skin with grafts and stuff. But I guess he got a bad infection….” She trailed off. “Anyhow, it was gross reading his medical file. I just thought maybe you were dreaming about him, about that, about a fire or a burned guy?”
I blinked no. I could tell Olivia was disappointed. She thought she had a ghost story on her hands, and that she had solved it, and here I was letting her down. But then I started thinking, what if this guy had done something terrible to someone—what if that’s why he was burned? What if he attacked that girl, and then … who knows? Her boyfriend or her dad came and did something terrible to him, burned him? I motioned with my eyes to the drawer where Olivia kept the whiteboard.
“Oh, sorry, of course, I’m having a one-sided conversation here.” She pulled out the board and slipped the pen into my hand. I wrote
How
.
“How what?” Olivia said. “How did I find out? I looked up his records in the office. Trust me, it wasn’t easy. The nurse—”
I motioned to the board again and Olivia stopped talking and placed it by my hand.
Burn
, I wrote.
“
How. Burn.
How was he burned? I don’t know, it didn’t say … or maybe I didn’t look close enough. Should I try to find out? You think this is connected somehow?”
I blinked yes. It had to be. It made no sense that I would be having these violent dreams about this guy; there had to be a connection.
I looked at the board again, and Olivia wiped it off for me.
Photo
, I wrote this time.
“You’re a genius,” she said, smiling and touching my shoulder. “There were pictures in his file, pretty gruesome stuff, but I’ll get you one. If you recognize him …” She shivered visibly. “Creepy, right?”
I blinked yes. She was on to something, I could feel it.
Olivia sighed and closed her eyes for a second, like she was thinking. “There’s something else. While I was in the office, I looked at your file, too.” She paused, her face revealing nothing. “Do you want to know?” I blinked yes, and she went on.
“It’s not good news, I’m warning you,” she said sadly, taking the pen from my hand and holding my fingers in hers. “It looks like this doctor, Dr. Louis, wants to do this experimental surgery on you, but …”
I waited for her to tell me the stuff I already knew: it was risky, my mom didn’t want to do it, I had to wait two weeks, what?
“No one seems to think it will work. According to the files, he’s done it on only a few patients, and I guess it hasn’t gone that well.” She looked down at my hand, like she was inspecting my fingers. “I guess a few people have died, too.”When she looked up, I could tell she was genuinely sad for me. “I’m sorry.”
This wasn’t really news to me; I had gotten the feeling from Mom’s attitude that this wasn’t a hundred percent chance at recovery for me, but I guess I also hadn’t known my chances were so bad.
“I only had about two minutes to look at both files, but from what I saw in yours, the doctors here think you should go a more natural route, see what sensation comes back on its own, try getting by with the wheelchair for now. They think the surgery is radical, and the risks aren’t worth it.”
I looked to the board and she put the pen back in my hand. I wrote one word:
You
.
Olivia took in a deep breath. “What do I think?” she asked, and I blinked yes. “I don’t know, to be honest with you, about the medical care here, about the doctors. Heck, I don’t trust
any
doctors anymore, I’ve been in hospitals for so long.” She sighed. “I mean, is it so terrible to wait a month or two and see what happens? You haven’t been here that long.” She looked at me with a small smile. “If you wait a few months and you’re still like this, have the surgery. But
I blinked no. I could tell Olivia was disappointed. She thought she had a ghost story on her hands, and that she had solved it, and here I was letting her down. But then I started thinking, what if this guy had done something terrible to someone—what if that’s why he was burned? What if he attacked that girl, and then … who knows? Her boyfriend or her dad came and did something terrible to him, burned him? I motioned with my eyes to the drawer where Olivia kept the whiteboard.
“Oh, sorry, of course, I’m having a one-sided conversation here.” She pulled out the board and slipped the pen into my hand. I wrote
How
.
“How what?” Olivia said. “How did I find out? I looked up his records in the office. Trust me, it wasn’t easy. The nurse—”
I motioned to the board again and Olivia stopped talking and placed it by my hand.
Burn
, I wrote.
“
How. Burn.
How was he burned? I don’t know, it didn’t say … or maybe I didn’t look close enough. Should I try to find out? You think this is connected somehow?”
I blinked yes. It had to be. It made no sense that I would be having these violent dreams about this guy; there had to be a connection.
I looked at the board again, and Olivia wiped it off for me.
Photo
, I wrote this time.
“You’re a genius,” she said, smiling and touching my shoulder. “There were pictures in his file, pretty gruesome stuff, but I’ll get you one. If you recognize him …” She shivered visibly. “Creepy, right?”
I blinked yes. She was on to something, I could feel it.
Olivia sighed and closed her eyes for a second, like she was thinking. “There’s something else. While I was in the office, I looked at your file, too.” She paused, her face revealing nothing. “Do you want to know?” I blinked yes, and she went on.
“It’s not good news, I’m warning you,” she said sadly, taking the pen from my hand and holding my fingers in hers. “It looks like this doctor, Dr. Louis, wants to do this experimental surgery on you, but …”
I waited for her to tell me the stuff I already knew: it was risky, my mom didn’t want to do it, I had to wait two weeks, what?
“No one seems to think it will work. According to the files, he’s done it on only a few patients, and I guess it hasn’t gone that well.” She looked down at my hand, like she was inspecting my fingers. “I guess a few people have died, too.”When she looked up, I could tell she was genuinely sad for me. “I’m sorry.”
This wasn’t really news to me; I had gotten the feeling from Mom’s attitude that this wasn’t a hundred percent chance at recovery for me, but I guess I also hadn’t known my chances were so bad.
“I only had about two minutes to look at both files, but from what I saw in yours, the doctors here think you should go a more natural route, see what sensation comes back on its own, try getting by with the wheelchair for now. They think the surgery is radical, and the risks aren’t worth it.”
I looked to the board and she put the pen back in my hand. I wrote one word:
You
.
Olivia took in a deep breath. “What do I think?” she asked, and I blinked yes. “I don’t know, to be honest with you, about the medical care here, about the doctors. Heck, I don’t trust
any
doctors anymore, I’ve been in hospitals for so long.” She sighed. “I mean, is it so terrible to wait a month or two and see what happens? You haven’t been here that long.” She looked at me with a small smile. “If you wait a few months and you’re still like this, have the surgery. But
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