This Thing A Quiet Madness Made

Chapter 31

Unknown lay on a simple, neatly-made bed in a small white room.

The bed spanned most of the length of the wall, a small nightstand standing next to it. The bed lay in one corner across from a white desk and a matching chair on the other side of the room. The room was mostly empty, and the few pieces of furniture it held, notably, were all bolted to the ground. A door stood next to the desk, leading into a tiny, plain bathroom, and there was a small tinted window across from the bed, on the same wall as the door. She didn't know where it led, but she guessed it was most likely an observation room of sorts. Above the window, mounted in the upper corner of the room, was a black security camera, its blinking red light indicating someone was watching. Unknown wore a plain white shirt and long white pants, both hospital-issued. Her eyes were cast towards the ceiling, blankly watching the plain, smooth patch of nothing.

A few days had passed since the incident at UA, a few days since her year-long mission came to a close. She couldn't tell exactly how much time had passed, and she supposed it wasn't too important. There was nothing much for her to do but wait.

She hadn't seen anyone aside from doctors and nurses since Aizawa and the police chief left. Even so, she could guess what the situation was: the police didn't know what to do with her. It was possible they might keep her here for a while, or maybe move her to another hospital. It was possible they might release her eventually, but it was also possible they might send her to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. She didn't know what they were leaning towards, or even if they had started deliberating at all. She supposed that wasn't too important either; there was nothing she could do about it anymore.

She shifted to lay on her side, the handcuffs around her left wrist rattling as she closed her eyes. Both ends of the handcuffs were secured to the same arm, as it was now only meant to suppress her quirk, not her movements. Her right wrist was still wrapped in bandages, though it had healed quite a bit in the past few days, the pain no longer enough to bother her. The bruises on her neck were gone, along with the minor scrapes and cuts scattered around her body; the wound on the back of her head was also mostly healed and no longer required bandages, though it still ached a bit from time to time.

The mattress below her was mostly soft and comfortable enough; the white sheets were fairly thin, suitable for the small, well-heated room. She pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, as although she wasn't quite tired, she also had nothing better to do. Sleep was an easy pastime, she found, much more interesting than the miscellaneous books and mundane games they had provided her with. Because of this, her sleeping pattern had been erratic ever since she entered the hospital: a few hours at a time, scattered roughly evenly throughout the day. It did nothing for her sense of time, as she often remained oblivious and indifferent to exactly how long she had been awake or asleep. It was rather strange to have nothing to do: no training, no missions, no orders to follow. She wondered how long it would be like this, what she might do if she was ever released. It had only been a few days, but she was beginning to miss the outside world. The bright white fluorescent glow had grown tiresome.

A faint humming drifted from the panel lights overhead, barely warding off the deep silence as Unknown drifted slowly to sleep.

_______________________________________________

Dreams are a strange thing, aren't they? Where does the mind get those images from? Places, people, events often made up completely by one's subconscious: scenes of fantasy, horror, or simply mundane, everyday activities played out in the resting mind.

Have you ever suddenly realized you were dreaming? Most often it's a faint, passing feeling, some innate recognition that something's off, but sometimes the thought hits you full-on, and in a moment, you instantly recognize the un-reality of everything you see. If it occurs in a thrilling, pleasant dream, you might get a sinking feeling when you realize it will eventually have to come to an end, if it occurs during a nightmare, you might feel the fear recede abruptly because nothing there can really hurt you, but have you ever had such a realization during an ordinary, mundane dream? Perhaps you're walking down the street, taking a path you always take, perhaps you're speaking to a friend you had been meaning to catch up with, a scene where nothing is out of the ordinary.