Heart beat, a heart beat, I need a heart beat, a heart -tell me would you kill to save a life?
Kate doesn't dream. Doesn't ponder, doesn't drift, doesn't wander, the silence and the blackness in her head is absolute and enveloping. It's curled around her like a child's play cape, dark silk, thick enough with regret and memory to smother.
She thinks she's dead, for a while at least. It's not so bad, after everything, all the blood and chaos this brief respite of peace is the best thing she could have hoped for. An ending, of something small or everything, she's not ready to answer. But the dead don't ache, don't have the dullest echoes of far off voices whispering around them. And the dead don't lie still, horrific feeling returning to every inch of them, the faded pain enough to confirm everything that the nightmares swirling in her skull have been talking about.
Her eyelids are so heavy, just as exhausted and run down as the rest of her that she thinks she might have laid there for hours. The whir of machinary is sharp and real enough to assure that she was awake long before she could will her eyes to flutter open. Alive, immobile, but where? Too tired still to think, too fuzzy to care.
With some small burst of energy, Kate turned her head to the side and coughed roughly to fight off the tickle in her throat. Her throat was dry, flecked and coated with dried blood that was turning into bitter powder in her mouth. The motion shook her frame, making a map of her injuries as the vibrations marked each injury with a pronounced, but dulled throb. Airways cleared, she slowly flicked one dark lash open, then another. Everything was a blur of bright and metal, but bit by bit the shapes and lights came together into an almost familiar setting....
She thinks she's dead, for a while at least. It's not so bad, after everything, all the blood and chaos this brief respite of peace is the best thing she could have hoped for. An ending, of something small or everything, she's not ready to answer. But the dead don't ache, don't have the dullest echoes of far off voices whispering around them. And the dead don't lie still, horrific feeling returning to every inch of them, the faded pain enough to confirm everything that the nightmares swirling in her skull have been talking about.
Her eyelids are so heavy, just as exhausted and run down as the rest of her that she thinks she might have laid there for hours. The whir of machinary is sharp and real enough to assure that she was awake long before she could will her eyes to flutter open. Alive, immobile, but where? Too tired still to think, too fuzzy to care.
With some small burst of energy, Kate turned her head to the side and coughed roughly to fight off the tickle in her throat. Her throat was dry, flecked and coated with dried blood that was turning into bitter powder in her mouth. The motion shook her frame, making a map of her injuries as the vibrations marked each injury with a pronounced, but dulled throb. Airways cleared, she slowly flicked one dark lash open, then another. Everything was a blur of bright and metal, but bit by bit the shapes and lights came together into an almost familiar setting....