[She shakes her head, then rolls up one of her sleeves. Old, shiny pink burn scars, placed defensively as though she were shielding herself with her arms. The skin on the edges is stretched-white, a little twisted and warped, because the shape of her arm was smaller then, and the scars stayed the same size. The healthy skin is thickly tattooed, bright colors inside thick black lines, for an impression of stained glass. She rubs her opposite thumb on the edge of one.]
[ spam ]
Third degree. Nerves are totally dead.