Melissa

A Story by Kelley Quinn

The burns weren't that severe. The doctor said that, with time, the scars would fade, but never completely heal. I'm ugly, I thought as my reflection stared back at me in the mirror. I had horrible dark splotches along my face and arms. My eyes filled with tears and my bruise-colored hand instantly raised to brush the few fallen ones.
The sound of bustling footsteps grew louder as they approached the stairs. No longer having the urge to thrust hatred upon my hideous face, I fled to my dresser, pretending to have just gotten dressed.
The door to my room opened slowly, as if unsure what would be revealed behind its rich redwood frame. A girl was perched on her heels as if she had slowly bent down to pick up something strange. Her eyes, though she tried desperately to stop them, began to brew with messy tears. This girl, face covered by straggly hair, seemed so alone and confused, yet somewhat familiar. Oh yeah, that girl is me.
And my scarred hands were clenched, holding a piece of clothing scorched beyond recognition. It could have been anything: pants, shirt, jacket? It was so hard to tell. But I knew what it was. I could recognize, even with the black ash concealing it, the sewn on flowers and worn out collar. How could something as flimsy as a child's sundress withstand a fire? How could a sundress, made with just thread and cotton, survive while skin, muscle, and bone crumble like dirt in your hand?
"Melissa?" The voice in the arch of the door calls. I cringe at the name because it isn't mine. Its the baby's. Baby Melissa. But Grandma doesn't know, and it is best that she never does. Not that she would notice. Must be a plus to be crazy in this situation. Never have to face the troubles in life because in your mind everything is happy, happy, happy. But who am I to complain? I'm crazy too.
I started the fire. I killed the baby. I burned my hands and face, laughing in the process. Oh, do tell me why I did it, my mind. Just tell me how I could do such horridness and bear through with the procedure to finish off the job.
My mind woke up and gave a little yawn, as if the question had never come up before. My hands tightened around the little sundress, imagining that it is my own head I'm about to twist off. Then, my mind begins to answer and quietly replies: "Because you wanted to."