Hawthorne's leaves

Chapter one.

Sappy, ancient, natural, all bark no bite. 

My father always used to tease me for my name, making any tree-related comment he could involving the word that had been chosen as my unfortunate name, Hawthorne. But that's on my mother I guess, she was the one to name me in the first place.

I look a lot like my mama, or so I've been told, everyone says I've got her eyes and my daddy's big bright smile. I never like to believe them though.

If I recognized the similarities when I looked in the mirror I would miss them even more.

Her loving eyes, his lop-sided, dorkish smile that always made me giggle without fail.

Them resting peacefully, the closed casket funeral as I watched them get lowered into the ground for eternity, six feet under, six feet away.

In case you haven't noticed, hi, I'm Hawthorne McCree, daughter of the late Dana and Paul McCree, and this is my story.

Sat on the rickety old bed, which smelled of pine and cleaning supplies, with thin sheets, hard pillows, and no mattress, in the large girls' orphanage which I had been assigned to, I stared up at the ceiling, my gaze slowly trailing over the large window that let the light from the courtyard seep in and light up the room. I always liked the sun, how it would make my deep green eyes look like pools of honey at the right angle, how it felt against my paper-white skin. The sun was my happy place.

But I couldn't reach it just yet, I would have to sit and wait for hours, even days to get to that happy place while dead skin was peeled off my body from burnt areas of now raw, tender flesh, all over my arms which ended at the very back of my shoulder bone- courtesy of the boat crash that landed me here, and my parents dead.

Helena, the nurse who worked in the infirmary near the left wing of the building, glanced up from her concentrated and precise work scarring my skin to check up on me. "Y' know sweetheart, you are awful calm considering that this should be hurting right now, I've been workin' at your arm for hours and I ain't even heard a single curse come outta your mouth.'' She hummed, just trying to make conversation as she was very well aware of how boring burn treatments were. 

But the truth was that I couldn't feel anything that she was doing at all. I could see her peeling my skin but I never cringed or winced, whimpered, the only noises that had been made were her quiet little hums and attempts to chat with me, I'm not much of a chatter so I never make an effort to reply, the most she has gotten out of me are little grunts and head nods. I don't like Helena, she acts too friendly.

Deciding to show her a slight sign that I'm listening and not just ignoring her, I replied with a simple "burnt the nerve endings" to explain why I couldn't feel the pain any normal burn survivor or victim would be experiencing.

Blowing my bright red hair out of my face as it fell out of the ponytail Helena had placed it in for me, I wished for the ability to be able to lift my arms higher than where my elbows rest. My nose now tickled and I was trying not to sneeze and get my germs all over her.

This is going to take a while.