𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 (EDITING)

𝟎𝟓

emerson

The bright, intense light seared through my eyelids the moment I dared to open them. Reacting instinctively, I shut them tight again, a groan escaping my lips. My attempt to shift to my side was met with a sharp pang of pain that shot through me, causing me to wince in discomfort. The bed beneath me felt foreign and unpleasantly rigid.

"God, it hurts," I muttered, hoping the pain would subside as I blinked repeatedly, attempting to adjust to the glaring light. Struggling against the haze of confusion, my hand instinctively sought relief, reaching down to my stomach. To my bewilderment, my touch encountered bandages tightly wound around my abdomen.

"What...?" I murmured, utterly perplexed by the sight before me. The realization of the bandaged stomach only added to the disorientation I felt. Where was I? How did I end up here? Questions swirled in my mind as I grappled with the unfamiliar surroundings and the inexplicable pain radiating from beneath the bandages.

The sudden movement of my gaze caught someone's presence, and it swiftly grabbed my attention. With a sense of urgency, I jerked my head and scanned my surroundings, my thoughts jumbled and disoriented.

"Okay, what the...?" I started to mutter, interrupted by a voice that drew my focus. "Good, you're awake," the doctor's voice echoed through the room as he entered, a tray clutched in his hands. Glancing around the room, I noticed other figures present, their faces unfamiliar, causing a surge of confusion to envelop me. My hand instinctively sought my stomach, only to encounter the tight bandages, a stark reminder of the unexplained pain I felt.

Clearing my throat, I directed my attention back to the doctor. "I'm going to change your drip," he announced, extracting a needle from his supplies.

"Drip? Wait, what?" I exclaimed, incredulous and disoriented by the revelation, trying to process the unforeseen circumstances and the doctor's unexpected actions.

The doctor's explanation about the drip brought a semblance of understanding, but my attention swiftly shifted to the surreal sight before me. Florence Pugh and Scarlett Johansson, two celebrities, were inexplicably present in my hospital room. The irony wasn't lost on me; encountering them here, in such circumstances, was utterly unexpected.

"I'd expect to meet them in public, not in a hospital room," I muttered to myself, feeling disheveled and unprepared for this encounter, wishing for a better scenario than looking and feeling awful in a hospital bed.

As the doctor prepared to administer the pain relief, he posed a question that demanded trust. "It's going to help the pain go away. Do you trust me?" he asked earnestly, seeking reassurance.

My guard was up, skepticism lingering in my response. "I don't trust you, but whatever," I grumbled, regretting the blunt response almost instantly. Despite my discomfort and confusion, my retort felt unnecessarily rude, but in that moment, it was the most honest expression of my feelings

As I braced myself for the prick of the needle, the sensation was surprisingly bearable—a fleeting sting followed by quick relief. I exhaled a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding, grateful that the discomfort was momentary. "Scared of needles, are we?" the doctor teased with a smirk, prompting an eye roll from me as I lifted my head. "Maybe. What's it to you?" I retorted, my response edged with a hint of defensiveness.

"Eat, if you want the pain to go away faster," the doctor advised, prompting my confusion about where I would find food. Before I could finish my thought, another doctor entered with a tray, instantly silencing my questioning as I realized my assumption had been premature.