Author's note: Thank you all for reviewing. I'm sorry that it's been taking me a while. I've been really stressed and busy lately. I hope you all understand.

I rewrote this chapter a few times, I hope you like it even though I rushed a bit.

My wake up call this afternoon was like a stab in the back.

As the activity in the room increased, I became more aware of the chaotic fuss. People embarked on thrusting medicine down my throat, poking, jabbing, and driving objects into my skin.

The room was practically buzzing around me. I must have still been heavily medicated, and was utterly nubilous and frustrated at them for not staying still. Their Swift movements vibrated in my sensitive ears.

I want to cry so badly, but I can't even do that. Had they decided to take a knife and carve out my eye? It felt as if they had. I was too afraid to touch my bandages in fear of feeling an empty socket. If it could have been any surgery but this, I would be able to handle it, but this is too much to bear.

It angered me that they expected me to cooperate when I could barely lift a finger. I was tempted to through something at the nurses but was in too much pain to even lift my head.

I've been told that the procedure lasted four hours, though it felt as if it were only a few moments ago. There wasn't much they could do for me but give me alcohol to drown the pain and pray that I won't receive an infection.

Of coarse I assumed the pain would reduce from that moment, but no, that was only the start of a living hell. The second day was worse. It felt as if my eyes had been set fire and with each day the flame spread throughout my face. I tried numerous different positions in bed, I tried to focus on something other then the pain, but nothing helped. The only way I could get rid of the pain was to sleep as much as I could. I figured that I'd rather sleep and forget my pain then stay awake and face it.

I dreamt he was there. It was so real I could taste it.

It had begun with the dress. I had delicately ran my fingers down the fabric before putting it on, and admired the way the material appeared so tenuous, yet felt so smooth at the same time. I remember slipping it on and enjoying the tingling cold sensation that the tops of my breasts received. The dress was slightly seductive, but under the circumstances, necessary.

What pains me even more is how convinced I am that it was all real. My joy was once again obliterated by the coldness of reality. Right before the doors swung open to reveal the isle my pain returned.

"Erik," I cried.

Deep inside my tears were bursting.

"Shhh," a familiar voice whispered like a lullaby. "It's alright."

"Nadir is that you?" I asked digging the back of my head into my pillow. I recognized the slight Persian accent that I had become accustomed to over the past few days. He had kindly brought me to the hospital and has always remained by my side.

I began to tremble in agony. Suddenly the room felt so cold.

"Do you need a nurse?" he asked.

"No..." I replied grabbing my forehead.

I sighed and turned on my side to were his voice was directed. "How is he?" I asked, still trembling.

"I think he's more concerned about you."

"Then why won't he come for me?" I tried to demand.

He wouldn't answer me. He didn't say a word, only sat there in silence searching for the correct answer.

It's come to the final moment. My heart pounded violently as they began to unwrap the material from my around head. As each layer fell to the floor light began to stream through, slowly bringing the world into view. It seemed to grow at such a slow pace, I secretly yearned to leap up and rip the rest of the bandages off myself. As the last bandage fell to the ground a silence seemed to echo off of the walls.

I quickly swirled around the room with adrenalin flowing through my veins, intaking everyone's physical appearance. I began to make a sport of matching the memory of the nurses voices with their, awestruck facial expressions. Each one stared at me as if I had grown three heads.

"So this what a smile used to look like," I cooed to myself, intaking the young, beaming, blond nurse across from me. I hadn't realized how different the world was when my eyes were closed. I had somehow forgotten just exactly how everything flowed together. I rapidly held my hands to my face remembering how they had once appeared.

As odd as it is, I had forgotten how I used to look. I even managed to somehow forget how people normally appear

. I knew that I had grown thinner. My pale, boney fingers appeared slightly unhealthy. I quickly tilted my head down to examine my figure. My stomach had decreased, but shockingly enough I had gained weight in other areas. I almost gasped at the enormous size of my chest, at first I was curious as to if they truly belonged to me.

"May I see a mirror?" I tried to ask politely, but was nearly bouncing.

A young female nurse quickly pulled, small silver handed mirror from a table and handed it to me. I quickly grabbed it and stared into my reflection.

I almost find myself wanting to scream at the face that gazes back at me. The only way I could identify the girl was the fact that she was wearing my facial expression. This face is the exact opposite of the girl I had once known. She wares a soft, extremely pale complexion, complemented by dark blood red lips and slightly rosy cheeks, and next to her hair her blue eyes are extravagant. My hair! How had it evolved from blond to black?

Since I was young I had always bathed in the sun and had grown Farley tan. The reason could lie in my lack of sun. I had been born with black hair, but the sun had drained the color from it.

The modern day dream of beauty was staring me in the face. Yet, I still feel empty.

Why do you ask? Has she gone mad? I have everything I wanted. Why do I still feel as if something is missing?

Looking in the mirror is like pouring vinegar down my throat. Denise is dead. I no longer deserve to carry her name. Her body and soul lie in hell.

I shunned the mirror from site, wishing to see no more of it, hate for my face surged violently through my skin.

"The sun," a voice whispered from within.

I hadn't seen the sun in so long.

I pushed past the small audience of nurses and flew from the curtained area. I found myself in a large building filled with beds. Some were occupied, most were concealed behind curtains. I glanced from left to right until I saw an intriguing door that seemed to almost glow and ran towards it, ignoring the fact that I was barefoot and nurses were chasing me. I flew the door open, greeted by the loud clash of thunder and pitter patter of rain as it began to fall from the sky. I ran into the street and gazed upward. The sun had decided to hide itself from me behind the black clouds. Rain beat down upon my body madly while wind violently slapped me in the face. I opened my mouth and held out my hands to absorb the storm. I slid open my eyes to admire the bright flash of lightning, regardless of the fact that it was shaking the ground from underneath me.

I was no longer afraid of death, in fact I was praying one of those powerful bolts would strike me. Not because I wished my own death, but I was drawn to the beauty of the powerful flashes of bent light and vibrant color. My heart burst with each stream of light. The beauty of it all brought forth a peculiar urge within me to grasp it in my hand, but it was not long before the nurses heaved my shivering, drenched body back into the hospital.