Two

I woke up strangely comfortable. My body was without the usual aches and soreness from a lifetime of a bed-ridden existence. The ever-present pain in my chest, the one that had been with me my whole life, the one that I had learned through years to ignore, was gone. My chest rose and fell; I was able to breathe on my own without having a tube down my throat to provide me with oxygen.

I felt wonderful. Was this a dream? Had I died and gone to heaven?

My eyes were still closed. I didn’t want to open them. I was afraid that if I did, then this wonderful dream would end and I’d find myself back at the hospital, connected to various machines, wasting away my life as I waited to die.

I felt a soft breeze across my face. It brought the scent of… something. I hadn’t smelled anything but the stench of disinfectants and medicines, so I didn’t know what it was. It smelled nice though. I wanted to know what it was.

Should I open my eyes? Should I risk it? I didn’t want this, whatever it was, to end!

I let myself lean back against the softness I was lying on. It was probably a bed and a pillow. If there was one thing I was familiar with, it was lying down in a bed. The pillow was nice, though. Extra soft and fluffy, not like those lumpy hospital pillows I was used to.

I heard a noise from somewhere to my right. It sounded like a bird singing. It was different from the recorded ones I’d heard from the clips and videos I’d seen online. It sounded more… real. Does that make sense?

I had to open my eyes. I needed to see where I was. This couldn’t be a dream. It was real, it had to be!

Slowly, carefully, I opened my eyelids, only to blink them shut at the bright light that met me. I tried again, more slowly this time. It took me a while, but eventually, my eyes got used to the light. I blinked away the dryness to see where I was.

It was a room, though not the hospital room I was familiar with. The walls were bare gray stone, as were the floors. I was lying on a bed (I was right!) with a thin beige wool blanket covering me. To the left of my bed was a plain wooden chair, one without padding. Beyond the chair on the far wall was a door that looked to be the only entrance to this place. To my far right was a wall with a window, one that was open to let fresh air in. Outside I could see trees and bushes as well as hear the songs of the bird I had heard earlier. I had had a window in my old hospital room, too, but the room had been too high up for me to see anything interesting out of it. Here I could see the greenery outside, as well as the blue cloudy sky. Across from my bed on the other side of the room was a large desk with various instruments and papers on it. Next to the desk was a rectangular full-body mirror.

What was going on? Where was I? The last thing I remember was having that weird dream where I was floating off the ground in front of a crowd of strangers. Wait, was that a dream? I thought it was, but maybe it wasn’t.

I quickly pulled my hands out from beneath the covers and looked at them. Just like in the dream, my hand had fingers. Five for each one. I had actual, normal hands, not the misshapen mess that I used to have.

My breath began to hitch as my eyes watered. How was this possible? Was it magic?

Whatever the cause, this was a miracle. I had a new body! A regular body! Not that barely alive thing that I used to be.

I sat up on the bed and pulled the blanket away from the rest of my body. Thankfully, I wasn’t naked like before; someone had dressed my new form in a white cotton nightgown, one that covered everything up to my ankles.

That was another surprise. I had ankles. Along with feet. And legs!

A hand went to my mouth as tears streamed down my cheeks. I had legs! I began to move muscles, ligaments, and bones I had never had before, and soon enough I saw my toes wiggle. I buried my face in my hands and wept.

I had cried before. Hell, I cried a lot of times. Mostly after surgeries when the anesthesia wore off and I felt awful. I also cried a bit during the first few years my parents stopped visiting me. And also when I felt sad. I was sad a lot.

This time though, I cried because I was happy. That never happened to me before. Whenever I cried I usually tried to stop myself as soon as I could. Crying when you’re sad feels awful. It feels as if there’s something horrible inside you that just won’t come out. But crying when you’re happy, it felt… well, not good per se; it was more of a relief. You felt better afterward.

Eventually, I cried myself out. A long strand of white hair had fallen in front of my face, and I used my new hand to tuck it back behind my ear. I wiped my eyes dry on the sleeve of my nightgown, then looked around the room. My eyes focused on the mirror next to the desk. I wonder what I looked like.

I frowned. I remember the first and only time I had ever looked in a mirror. When I was seven, I had communicated to a nurse that I wanted one. I had been curious and wanted to see what I looked like, whether I resembled my mom or my dad or not. She brought back a small, hand-held mirror and brought the reflective surface towards my face. After that, I never asked for a mirror again.

I bit my lower lip as I continued to stare at the mirror across the way from me. I was afraid that if I looked in it, I would see the same thing I did when I was seven. But after feeling my face with my hands, I didn’t find anything abnormal.

Would I be handsome? Ugly? It couldn’t be any worse than my last face.

I decided that I had to see it. The only problem was that the mirror was all the way across the room. To get to it, I had to use my new legs. Or crawl.

I wasn’t going to crawl.

I took a deep breath, then moved my legs to the right, over the edge of the bed. My knees bent and I felt the cold stone as my bare feet touched the floor. So far so good.

This next part would be tricky. I moved my body forwards, putting all my weight onto my feet, then rose off the bed. I wobbled a bit at first, but eventually, I managed to stand. Awesome! I was standing! Never in my wildest dreams could I ever believe that I would ever get to stand on my own.

I smiled, looking down at my feet in amazement. This was easy so far. Now all I had to do was take a step. My first step. I held my arms in front of me just in case I fell, then lifted my right foot off the ground. I pushed forwards with my left foot, my body moving a pace before my right foot set down.

Huh. I had expected myself to fall that time.

I repeated the movement, this time with my left foot rising up. I took a step. Then another. And another. I didn’t fall once. My smile widened as I continued to step around the room, the mirror in the corner temporarily forgotten. Eventually, I was confident enough to lower my arms to sway at my sides.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right.

There’s no way this should be as easy as this. Babies took a long time to learn how to walk, right? I didn’t even know how to crawl!

This had to be part of the magic, the same one that gave me this new body. I laughed as I increased my pace, going in circles around and around the room until I started to get dizzy. I held still as the room swayed around me, promising myself never to do that again. I shook my head to clear it, then focused my attention on the mirror. I still had to see what I looked like.

So, with a few easy steps, I soon found myself standing in front of it. What I saw was not what I expected.

In the mirror was a girl, in her late teens maybe, (I wasn’t good with ages.) with long white hair that fell straight down to the small of her back. She had really pale skin and large expressive eyes with creepy red irises. Was she an albino? She was thin, but not scraggly, her limbs looking almost delicate.

Well, I guess I’m a girl now. I had been born a boy, or at least I always assumed I was. My parents gave me a male name and all the doctors and nurses addressed me as a “he.” So I guess I should be bothered that I was now a “she.” Gender identity and all that. Truth was, I never really felt like either a boy or a girl. I never grew up in either role, doing boy and girl stuff, with parents and friends and society shaping how I viewed myself. I was always that creature in room 601. I didn’t even feel human.

So, no. I didn’t care that I had switched genders. Such a change seemed so arbitrary after everything else. Frankly, I wouldn’t have cared if I had been turned into a dog. Such a fate would have been far better than the one I had been saddled with.

The only thing that bothered me was how I was able to miss the fact that I was now female in the first place. It wasn’t until I was standing right in front of a mirror that I realized it. How the hell did I miss those two bumps on my chest? I reached up with both hands and grabbed them, squeezing the soft handfuls of flesh between my fingers.

Huh. So these were boobs. Kinda disappointing. Everyone on the internet seemed utterly obsessed with them for some reason. Frankly, I didn’t see the appeal.

I let go of my new body parts, then continued to stare at the mirror. Part of me still couldn’t believe this was happening. I gave my reflection a grin. Then a frown. Then a pout.

I would have continued making faces at myself if it weren’t for the sound of the door to the room opening. I turned my attention towards the noise just as a woman wearing pristine white robes entered. She was holding a small basin of water along with a set of clean towels. Her eyes widened upon seeing me standing there, and we looked at each other for a long moment before she made a weird noise in her throat and rushed out of the room. The door quickly slammed closed behind her.

What was that all about?