Face by Benjamin Zephaniah Page A

there anything at all I can do for you now? Is there anything you need?’
    â€˜No, just a mirror.’
    Alan had now lost his smile.
    â€˜Remember now, you can ask for me anytime and – if you don’t like me – there are other counsellors and staff for you to choose from. I’ll check out that mirror for you. Good luck, mate.’
    For the next fifteen minutes Martin was left alone. He began to wonder if asking for the mirror was a wise thing to do. His body was beginning to ache, the various scratches and bruises had begun to make themselves known as the painkillers wore off, andMartin’s senses began to sharpen. He then had an idea which had not occurred to him before. He could sense the hardness of the skin on his face but he hadn’t yet felt his face with his fingers. He thought about it, telling himself it would serve as a kind of preparation for what he was going to see but then he changed his mind. If he was to explore his face with his hands, too much would be left to the imagination. The best thing to do was to be brave and face his face head on.
    Soon Nurse Ling and Alan Green re-entered the room. The nurse stood at the end of the bed holding something covered by a towel. Martin assumed that this was the mirror. Alan came closer down the side of the bed. Although not smiling, he still had that reassuring tone in his voice.
    â€˜Well, mate, here we are. I’ve just had a word with your parents. They are a bit concerned about you wanting a mirror in such a hurry but they did tell me that once you’ve made up your mind, nothing’s going to stop you. They asked that I stay around, which is standard procedure anyway. So, here we go. Now, Martin, remember all that the doctor and I have told you.’
    Nurse Ling unwrapped the mirror as if it were a precious object. She passed it to Alan making sure that the mirrored side was facing away from Martin so as not to allow him even a passing glance at his reflection. Martin watched their every move. When Alanhad hold of the mirror he had a look at it as if to test it. Then he handed it to Martin, still making sure the mirrored side was pointing down.
    â€˜There you go. Sometimes it’s best to have a glance, look away and then have a longer look. It’s up to you, you’re in control.’
    For a moment Martin held the mirror against his chest, then he slowly lifted it up until he was looking into his own eyes. He suffered a silent shock. His eyes were completely red with only minute bits of white coming through. He focused on his pupils, leaving the rest of his face temporarily out of focus. His pupils looked untouched, unmoved by the chaos around them. But even when out of focus, he could not help but see the rough unevenness of his skin. Then Martin focused his eyes on the skin on his face. It was bright red in places, and brown in others. He noticed pinky white bits, which looked like flesh with no skin cover, where he could see veins. His whole face had swollen and changed shape. His right cheek was blistered, his left cheek had swollen – the two halves of his face looked completely different from each other. The contours of his face were jagged. On seeing his lips, which were swollen as if he had been in a fight, his breath left him for a moment. He instinctively shut his eyes, then slowly opened them again. He lifted a hand up to feel his head. Much of the back and sides of his hair had survived but the top front had mostlygone, only small patches were left. Martin was scared by what he saw but he could not look away.
    Every few seconds different thoughts came into his head.
Is that really me? Why me? Maybe it will fall off and my real face will be underneath.
He began to really stare at his right cheek, checking every millimetre of it.
It looks like a mountain
, he thought. It was a strange thought but it was the first thing that came into his head. In a flash he remembered flying to Spain for a holiday and