"First, I'll introduce myself. My name is Tom Berenson."
The name meant nothing to me. Why was a stranger visiting me, if my own friends couldn't manage to look at my face? The mortification of having Jessie, of having Brent look at my perfect skin and grimace in disgust, still raged within me. And what about Patrick? I had so much I needed to ask him -- so much I couldn't ask him, not with these nightmarish lips and broken voice.
And Keith. Where was Keith?
Tom watched me. "The doctors have told us you spent four days in critical condition. Now your condition is a little more stable."
Momentarily, I wondered why the doctors would tell a stranger anything.
"Your father's death has obviously been very painful for you," he said quietly, soberly, comfortingly. "The Sharing is here to offer you help."
My father's death? Look at me! Look at me, you idiot! This is painful for me! I lost my kingdom, I've lost everything... My thoughts were rudely jarred when I realized what they were. My father's dead and I'm worried about my appearance...? No, Taylor -- about the fact that you're a monster! A lame, crippled monster --
"Taylor, can you hear me?"
My good eye cleared. I grunted unintelligibly, and was ashamed.
"We have... a procedure we could perform. A procedure to heal you."
I froze. He had my full attention. I locked my eye on him.
"We have information we need from you, Taylor." He slid his chair closer. "Something of ours was lost. We think you might know where it is. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
His expression was so friendly. I didn't know why it scared me. I shook my head slightly and felt the rush of pain. Then I paused, and grunted again, with more energy this time. "Ahok."
Tom paused, concentrating. "Yes. A box." Had I made that much sense or was it just what he wanted to hear? Relief seemed to wash over him. "Do you know where it is?"
"T...hook it," I managed. "See t-hook it."
"She?" His face clouded. "Who is she?"
I looked at him pleadingly. He understood. "Ah, yes," he said, sympathetically. "Talking is hard for you. Well, Taylor, the procedure..." He paused. "You would have to... aid us. Be willing to serve us. But in exchange we could give you back your body."
With what? Prosthetics? I wondered.
"With something better than artificial limbs," he continued, as if reading my mind -- or was it etched on my face? "We could... restore your DNA, if we had that box. We could make you whole again, completely whole, like there was never a fire. It's very advanced, secret government technology. But we need you, too, Taylor. Like you need us. We need your body, once it is whole."
I was still. Contemplating.
"We... we need bodies, Taylor," he said, very quietly. "We are helpless without them. One of us will... enter you. But you will still be Taylor, Taylor, whole. Perfect, again. Your mind, our mind, one."
It appealed to me...
"I'll come back tomorrow, Taylor," he added, rising. "I really want to help you. You and your whole family. The procedure is completely painless, and money is not a problem. If you comply with our demands, it will be performed free of charge."
I raised my stump of a right hand, testing him. He didn't even hesitate, just shook it, gently, carefully.
"Gud," I tried to say.
Tom shook his head quickly. "You don't have to talk. I know it's painful. But it doesn't have to be that way, Taylor."
When he was gone, I closed my eye and let my head sink slowly back to the pillows.
You would have to... aid us. Be willing to serve us. I don't want to serve anyone, I thought. The human race betrayed me. I never want to aid it. Or any member of it. But he's not talking about the human race, is he? What is he talking about?
We need you, too, Taylor. Like you need us.
I don't want to need anyone. But I do. I can't do anything on my own, anymore. I can't live in this hospital bed.
But you will still be Taylor, Taylor, whole. Perfect, again.
Oh, yeah? Perfect? Me? I leaned what was left of my cheek against the cool white pillow.
They'll get her, I realized, suddenly. They'll find her and get that box and they'll do to her what's been done to me. They'll help me get revenge. They'll -- what did she do to you, Taylor? Just steal the box? No, she left me, she left me there for this to happen to me.
They'll get her and I hope they kill her -- slowly -- I hope they burn her alive. I hope they scar her perfect face. Perfect, like me. Like I'll be...
The beginnings of insanity slithered their ways into my mind like snakes through mud. I whimpered softly, and then I was asleep.