Dahlia opened her eyes to a cheerful jingle and automatically knew something was wrong. For one, prisons did not have intercom jingles. Secondly, she didn't fall asleep. The last thing she remembered was pacing from one end of her cell to the other, waiting for day to come. She couldn’t fall asleep with the thought of death, HER death, lingering so close. It was like waiting for Christmas with all this anticipation, but without various gifts showered on her--just a noose and waiting for the stupid plan of her insane mother to commence. But oh, when she could strangle the life out of that stupid brat Maya…
"Ah, it's good to see you awake, Linda! Good morning! As the Head Doctor said, it's time to go to the Courtyard and make some friends with the other patients--"
The voice kept talking, but that didn't mean Dahlia was listening. She pushed herself up from the bed she had been laying on, the words 'doctor' and 'patients' being the only ones to sink in as her vision swam, eyes trying to comprehend this sudden onslaught of new information. Was she in a hospital? There was a nurse there. Why? Who the hell was Linda (who was obviously NOT her, so there‘d be no need to call her that if the woman talking to her knew any better)? And… this wasn’t her cell. What was this place? Did she really get sent to a hospital on the day she was supposed to be executed? Maybe it was like one of those silly crime dramas where the court decides it made a crucial mistake and pulls the criminal out of death-row at the last second. Maybe it was… what was it called again? A reprieve?
"Is there something wrong, Ms. May? You seem pale... The sun would do you some good."
Or they sent her to an asylum for the hell of it. Neither one of those made much sense at the moment, especially considering the name mix-up. The guards were never dense enough to call her the wrong name (even if they knew she couldn‘t do anything to them, she was still as terrifying as nothing else).
This meant it was information gathering time. “E-excuse me,” she brought her hand to her mouth and pouted, eyes cast downward and eyebrows raised in confusion. It was just so easy to do after so many times that it may as well be genuine, if not for the fact that Dahlia wanted to slap the woman across the face for calling her the wrong name, especially while she still seemed so happy and proud of herself to be doing so. “But that is not my name, Madame. I‘m not even sure if I am supposed to be here…”
Nurse-woman sighed and patted the redhead on the shoulder like she just witnessed a puppy crying for food. “Now Linda, please. You know you’re here to get better, and the sooner you do that, the sooner you’ll be released to go home to your family.”
…wait, what? Now she knew something was wrong. The pouting stopped immediately and her head shot up to stare at the nurse with wide eyes. “Released? But I-”
“You do want to go home, don’t you?”
…humph. Dahlia could feel her eyes narrowing, but she didn’t give it much thought. As long as she didn’t appear overly upset the nurse wouldn’t catch on to her mean-streak anyway. Unless she already knew about it, which would normally be the case, but… This wasn’t normal. “Where am I?”
The hand on her shoulder went to her back and helped her move from the bed-- …okay, that was ugly. That shirt? Had no reason to be happy with itself. At least it proved her suspicion--definitely an asylum. “You’re at Landel’s Institute, Linda,” the nurse went on as Dahlia frowned down at the massive amounts of gray on herself. It was as bad as the prison uniform. Didn't asylums let you wear your own clothes? “Now, now, don’t pout. Everything‘s going to be okay. The staff are friendly, as are the patients… Yes, you‘ll be expected to make a full recovery.”
Dahlia straightened herself and looked back up to the other woman, never pausing from her sad-defenseless-girl routine if the nurse obviously didn‘t know enough about her to know better than trust her. “A full recovery from what?” Her watching out for herself and squashing a few bugs here and there never really seemed like something that needed to be cured, at least to her. It wasn’t like she was crazy.
The nurse smiled and placed her hand on Dahlia’s back again, guiding her towards the door. “I’ll explain more on the way to the courtyard, Ms. May. You poor thing, you must be so confused..."
"Ah, it's good to see you awake, Linda! Good morning! As the Head Doctor said, it's time to go to the Courtyard and make some friends with the other patients--"
The voice kept talking, but that didn't mean Dahlia was listening. She pushed herself up from the bed she had been laying on, the words 'doctor' and 'patients' being the only ones to sink in as her vision swam, eyes trying to comprehend this sudden onslaught of new information. Was she in a hospital? There was a nurse there. Why? Who the hell was Linda (who was obviously NOT her, so there‘d be no need to call her that if the woman talking to her knew any better)? And… this wasn’t her cell. What was this place? Did she really get sent to a hospital on the day she was supposed to be executed? Maybe it was like one of those silly crime dramas where the court decides it made a crucial mistake and pulls the criminal out of death-row at the last second. Maybe it was… what was it called again? A reprieve?
"Is there something wrong, Ms. May? You seem pale... The sun would do you some good."
Or they sent her to an asylum for the hell of it. Neither one of those made much sense at the moment, especially considering the name mix-up. The guards were never dense enough to call her the wrong name (even if they knew she couldn‘t do anything to them, she was still as terrifying as nothing else).
This meant it was information gathering time. “E-excuse me,” she brought her hand to her mouth and pouted, eyes cast downward and eyebrows raised in confusion. It was just so easy to do after so many times that it may as well be genuine, if not for the fact that Dahlia wanted to slap the woman across the face for calling her the wrong name, especially while she still seemed so happy and proud of herself to be doing so. “But that is not my name, Madame. I‘m not even sure if I am supposed to be here…”
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…wait, what? Now she knew something was wrong. The pouting stopped immediately and her head shot up to stare at the nurse with wide eyes. “Released? But I-”
“You do want to go home, don’t you?”
…humph. Dahlia could feel her eyes narrowing, but she didn’t give it much thought. As long as she didn’t appear overly upset the nurse wouldn’t catch on to her mean-streak anyway. Unless she already knew about it, which would normally be the case, but… This wasn’t normal. “Where am I?”
The hand on her shoulder went to her back and helped her move from the bed-- …okay, that was ugly. That shirt? Had no reason to be happy with itself. At least it proved her suspicion--definitely an asylum. “You’re at Landel’s Institute, Linda,” the nurse went on as Dahlia frowned down at the massive amounts of gray on herself. It was as bad as the prison uniform. Didn't asylums let you wear your own clothes? “Now, now, don’t pout. Everything‘s going to be okay. The staff are friendly, as are the patients… Yes, you‘ll be expected to make a full recovery.”
Dahlia straightened herself and looked back up to the other woman, never pausing from her sad-defenseless-girl routine if the nurse obviously didn‘t know enough about her to know better than trust her. “A full recovery from what?” Her watching out for herself and squashing a few bugs here and there never really seemed like something that needed to be cured, at least to her. It wasn’t like she was crazy.
The nurse smiled and placed her hand on Dahlia’s back again, guiding her towards the door. “I’ll explain more on the way to the courtyard, Ms. May. You poor thing, you must be so confused..."
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