Frustrated, she turned the television back off and slammed the remote back onto the table. “It’s not FAIR!” she yelled at the empty room. “Why should I feel guilty for being born blind? It wasn’t my fault! And soon I’ll be normal! Just one more day…”
Carol-Anne let her words fade away, then took a deep, cleansing breath. The past was gone, she reminded herself. No one called her Bat Girl anymore, no one stole her cane and hid it while she was sleeping, no one pulled her hair or intentionally left open cabinet doors and drawers just so she would bang into them. No one did any of the things she had endured during her years in foster care. But what they did do was almost worse.
Tossing back the blanket, Carol-Anne carefully got out of bed and thought about the room she was in. She had made a mental note of the locations of everything almost as soon as she was inside.
Deciding she needed a hot shower, she checked her mental map. The bathroom was ten steps, a turn to the right, and then four more steps to get inside the shower. The water was too hot, at first. It burned her skin and made her gasp in pain, almost tearing down the curtain to escape it, but she forced herself to stay under the spray. Soon her body acclimated to the temperature and she began to relax, the water streaming down her body in thick rivulets, the rumbling whoosh of the water fading to a calming white noise that drove away all unpleasant thoughts and distractions. Just as the water began to run cool, Carol-Anne came to a decision on something she hadn’t even known she was questioning. She refused to wait any longer.
Carol-Anne took her time as she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, thoroughly toweling her hair dry to give herself time to think out her plan. She then patiently dressed herself before checking her watch again.
“8:23 a.m.” it obligingly spoke out in it’s tinny voice.
Deciding it was late enough, Carol-Anne grabbed her guiding cane and left her hotel room. “I think it’s time to pay Dr. Fredrickson an early visit.”