I didn’t have a manager.
I blinked open my eyes, and pain burst to life everywhere.
It was like all I needed to do was see and then I was reminded.
Fire.
Screaming.
A bomb.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
I blinked twice, even though it hurt worse than anything I’d ever experienced, and focused on her.
What I did not do was turn my head to get a better view.
“You want pain meds?”
I blinked.
She pressed something near my side.
“Two blinks for no. One blink for yes.” She stood up. “You’re on a morphine pump,” she explained. “It’s inside your hand right now, can you feel it?”
No.
No, I couldn’t feel it.
What I could feel was the pain that felt like fire licking at almost every nerve ending.
“You were in a fire,” she said softly. “Do you remember?”
I blinked once.
“You have third-degree burns on fifty-two percent of your body,” she whispered. “They’re very bad.”
I blinked once.
“Do you want me to get a doctor so he can explain?”
I blinked once.
Yes.
“I’ll go get him. He can tell you everything.”
The doctor did, in fact, tell me everything.
Or what he thought was everything.
“Mr. Green,” the doctor said after he recounted everything that had happened. “Is there anything you have a question about?”
Like I could fuckin’ answer.
I’d just learned that those third-degree burns extended up to my face, covering half of it from hairline to chin.
I couldn’t even move my mouth without that fire licking at me.
