Girl in Pieces

Casper smiles at me. “Big changes,” she says. “Talking. Cutting your hair. Bandages off. How do you feel?”

I reach for the sheets of paper on her desk, the blue ballpoint, but she says, “No.”

The turtle has paused in the tank, like he’s waiting for me, too. His tiny body bobs in the water. Does he like the little ship at the bottom, the one with the hole big enough for him to swim through? Does he like the large rock he can hoist himself up on and rest? Does he ever want to come out?

I pull the hoodie I found in the lost and found box tighter around me, close the hood tight around my face.

Ugly, I tell her, my voice muffled and my face hidden by the hood. Ugly. It still feels ugly.