the hospital was an uncomfortable place to be, but hanna was glad of it. there was a routine there which she was happy to settle into in the wake of what had happened, allowing herself to be guided by nurses, shuffled to one place and then another for tests, physiotherapy, whatever else they wanted of her. it was weak, and it was lazy, and it was selfish, yes – but wasn’t she entitled to a bit of that, after all that had happened ? it wasn’t going to last, anyway. doctors were already questioning her about the scars which covered the best part of her body, received long before that day, why they had healed so badly, what had caused them; already suspicious with how quickly she had recovered, how neatly her bones had knitted back together, how easily her jaw had slid back into place; and just how, they asked, was she finding physio ? and though they smiled, she could see it in their eyes – they didn’t trust that she was finding it so easy. hanna was suspicious and paranoid in return ( what if they were in league with the others, the ones who had kidnapped so many people, the ones that were rumoured to have bombed the island ? ) but … more than that, she was tired, exhaustion in her very bones. let them take her away, let them do whatever they wanted to her, but god, just let her rest first.
the nurses had come to her with discharge forms that morning, and she had dutifully filled them out, surprising herself with how regretful she felt as her pen scraped across paper, movements sharp and stiff and graceless, and utterly fake, all for the benefit of the nurses. she was to be let out the next morning, and in contemplating the return to the apartment she shared with ruby, with how nice it might be to fall into her own bed, or perhaps, dinah’s – so lost in these thoughts, she missed entirely the nurse’s proclamation that she had a visitor until the door shut quietly behind them.
out of the corner of her eye, hanna saw the silhouette, and her head jerked to the side so that she might see them properly. one moment, two, and then she leaned back upon the bed, tucking her legs up beneath her to give the other room to sit, wry grin spreading across her face. four fuckin’ years, she thought, an’ this brings you running right back.
❛ as i live an’ fuckin’ breathe. bijou demure. ❜ a snicker, at the name – still, she was convinced it was fake – and then she sat up, giving the other her attention. no need to ask what she was there for. ❛ here’s a headline for ye, before we start. local woman loses additional shit she didn’t think she still had. if that ain’t top of the paper when you go to print, this interview is over ‘fore it even fuckin’ starts. ❜
( @hackerspvce )
