I didn't remember what it was like to have two hands. It had been so long. You just get used to it.
I could not believe it when I got the call that it was going to happen. I was going to get a new hand. They found the perfect match.
I imagined looking normal. No more stares. No more whispers.
I would be beautiful. I would blend in.
It went well. It took right away. I am only a little bloated from the medicine that keeps my body from rejecting it.
It is a little bigger than my other hand.
It has been three months. The doctors are impressed with my progress. I am not so sure any more.
I asked them about what has been happening, but they don't listen.
No one is listening. No one will hear me.
It moves. It moves by itself. Not a twitch. A real movement, that I am not doing.
It does things.
It left me a message. It said "Leave". It wrote it. It wrote it to me.
I don't want it any more. I want it off.
I am free.
It is in the sink. It won't talk to me anymore. I am going to put it in the disposal.
I will shut it up forever.