Night 25: Intercom, Early Night
With a crackle, the intercom came back on, and with a boom, the Head Doctor began to laugh into the microphone, his mouth so close that his breath rasped out of the speakers. Finally, he spoke, with one word that seemed to mean more than he let on
( Read more... )
I'm alive.
As she lay in her bed, wide-eyed and astonished at her own aliveness, she became aware of her cheek buried in a pillow, her hair falling around her face and neck, the warmth of bedcovers. The sterile, milk-white hospital surroundings cloaked in night's darkness. Her mind racing with possible explanations.
And then, an immense melancholy seeping into her chest.
Noir....
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
She put her hand to her chest, fingers searching for the texture of a bandage under her shirt (why a shirt instead of a hospital gown?, she wondered fleetingly). She could vividly remember the sheer physical pain and shock of the fork breaking her skin, severing veins, scraping against her ribs, and piercing her heart. Not to mention how she felt to see the person most dear to her wielding it. The nerves in her fingers tingled with sorrow.
So when she found nothing at all, she was completely taken aback.
Quickly she sat up and looked down her shirt, holding the neckline away from her with one hand and prodding with the other. No, there really wasn’t anything. Not the bandage she had assumed would be there. No stitches or scar. From what she could see in the darkness, not even a discolored mark on her skin. It was completely unblemished, as if nothing had ever happened. She put her hands back down. How-
Her fingertips, poking slightly under the pillow, felt something hard that took her away from her thoughts. She slid her hand towards it and brought it out from under the pillow.
A flashlight.
?
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment