Meanwhile, at Susan McMilllan's house ...
"You have to go to school!" demanded Susan. "You have to get used to what you've become, I mean, who you are!"
Sarah was in tears. "I ... I am a 'what' ..."
"No! You're still human! You can still think! Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Get over it! Your father's fortune is running out and you'll have to make something of yourself!"
"He's losing it ... all because of me ..." Sarah's head slumped forward. That was the only body part she could move. She sat in a motorized wheelchair. What remained of her thighs were as paralyzed as what was left of her upper arms. Tangled tubes and wires surrounded her torso, connecting her to life-support devices.
Sarah wanted to die. Her father had spared no expense to keep his only daughter alive. She hated him for prolonging her suffering. Even her mother - who hated almost as much - went along with his plans for her. Did the elder McMillans really believe she had a future? They couldn't even look her in the eye.
Nobody could. Only her brain and her bright blue eyes were left unscathed by the accident. She couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror. Her golden mane was long gone, replaced by random tufts of short hair amidst dead follicles. Her face was a permanent mask of scar tissue. Multiple million-dollar surgeries had failed to restore even a fraction of its beauty.
People called her a monster. Never in front of her, but behind her backs. She knew how nasty people could be when they thought nobody was looking. She knew what she would say about herself if she were still the queen of the campus. Now she was the ultimate outcast. Katie Finnerty was Miss Popularity compared to her.
She couldn't imagine anything good happening to her, like getting a free wish from the Charity Stone. No, there was nothing ahead for her but darkness bleaker than any Goth could ever imagine. Her mother would never understand. "I am not going to school!" Shouting drained Sarah. "I wish ..."
