"Stay."
Her mother said.
"Stay here, don't
follow."
The voice a high clear
bell, distorted through time, calling over an open field of long grass. A toddler
barely able to follow, she stayed. She stayed until she knew it as her name. Then
she started to waddle over.
"I said stay." Mother would snap.
Stay remembered being told what to do. She learned the difference of her taught
name and its meaning. She stayed.
What am I staying away from? She wondered.
Stay was a mystery to herself.
She stayed still when an
accident in the kitchen took her left ring finger at 15. She cried out without
a sound. Air crept through her tightened throat as she stared, astonished at her
finger lying in a pool of blood. Her mind became fuzzy, seeing her finger
unconnected to her hand.
It was no longer her finger, but a finger. It paled
considerably in seconds. She panicked. Stay had no one to call out for, no one
to tell her what to do or how to take care of it. Still scared of the town, she
did the only thing she could think of.
Gas stove on high and a
metal spoon stuck to the flame, she waited for it to glow orange. She could
barely breathe at the sight of the absurd amount of blood dripping down to a
puddle at her feet. She turned her mind off. Without hesitation, despite the
knot in her stomach, Stay thrust the spoon to the nub of her finger.
A scream seared out of her
body, her body convulsed and shrieked with the pain of it. Hot. Stinging.
Searing flesh. Doubling over, she dropped the spoon. Tears bubbled up and
spilled over, blurring the horrific vision of her hand.
Eyes squeezed shut, she
moaned. Terrified at what had happened and what she did. It all transpired in
minutes. The only sound left was her subsiding sobs. The smell made her retch:
the iron of her blood, the smoldering spoon burning into the rug it bounced
onto. Everything was hot and metal.
Stay clutched her hand to
her chest, curled on the floor lying in her blood. It cooled and congealed to
her side, forming against her, wrapping around her.
Half unconscious and unable
to move, Stay imagined a pottery piece in place of her finger.
Bone white with glossy forget-me-nots. An intricate series of thin leather
strips would hold it in place and allow small movements. She would start it the next day.
© Ash Huntley
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