Epilogue - 1

Three months. His scar was still red and angry. Jackson’s therapist was great. Really. He knew any body image issues he might have were something he’d get over with enough time, but for now, staring at the angry red skin that marked where his arm should be… He felt a stupid mixture of embarassment, shame, and disgust.

Jackson was pale. He’d always been pale. He’d never had an issue with it before, but now, the paleness of his skin made the scar look all the more alarming. The knock on the door startled him and he realized he’d been standing there for a little too long.

“Just a second,” he called. The shirt was still a struggle to get on, but he was getting quicker every time. Jeans were a no go since he couldn’t button them one handed so he spent all of his time in sweatpants. Sweats were comfortable, but they were just another reminder of what he couldn’t do anymore. What he didn’t have anymore.

The empty sleeve hung limp over his shoulder. Jackson turned hi