44 - Rudely Awoken

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Pure, uncanny peace. The clouds of the warm beyond.

As the sun embraces me with warm arms, I'm safe.

And then it hurts.

What the Fuck!?

It's burning down my spine, too hot. Where did the soft sunshine hug go?

Probably to hell.

I hope that isn't where I'm going...

Then the fire cools and I am rewarded with a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

And then I'm walking across noisy coals burning the bottom of my feet.

It smells like fried chicken?

The coals, not my feet.

I think.

Then the coals calm down and my legs stop sizzling.

On the third time of waking up to a fiery hell, I hear voices.

"Pandora."

Dad?

"Panda? Can she hear us, Shota?"

My Dads!

"Dad." I try to call out to them through the mouthful of honey appearing as I try to speak.

I inhale slowly before trying again.

"Dad." It comes out cracked and garbled.

"We're here, sweetheart." Mic trips over his words to answer me. "You're doing so well."

I open my eyes.

There is wires and plaster, bandages and white cloth covering every visible surface, a masterpiece of medical equipment. I was beautiful, in a not-obvious and probably-not-attractive way.

Yeah beautiful wasn't the right word.

My dads sit beside me, on either side and both teary eyed.

"Pathetic." I stutter out, my insult destroyed by my struggle to speak through what I'm assuming a large amount of drugs provided by the IV plugged into my arm. They both chuckle, Mic trying to pat my arm in support.

"Hi." I sigh, relived that the words seem to be coming out easier now.

"Hey Kiddo." Dad smiles softly, "How are you feeling?"

"My legs hurt. Like fire or something." I admit, not even relieved slightly when he grimaces.

"Yeah. About that." He says gruffly, holding his hand in mine. Hizashi shoots him an angry look.

"She just woke up, Shota. It's not the time." He lectures. Dad waves him off.

"She has a right to know." He turns back to me.

"The doctors aren't sure if you will gain full capacity of your legs again."

"I can't walk?" I gasp. Hysteria bubbles in my chest like a demon laying large, fragile eggs. They plug my lungs and throat; climbing into my brain and suffocating it. Noise fills my ears like screaming children and my eyesight blurs with shapes and colours. Nurses flutter around the room, fairies checking the wires and plastic holding me together. Buzzing fluorescent lights and pale faces fiddling with tubes adorn my vision until I dive back into the peace. Doctors talk from afar but they aren't thorough enough.

Nobody thinks to check my breaking heart.

It's dark when I wake up again. I call for a nurse, who graciously helps me into a wheelchair even though I'm supposed to be sleeping. The wheelchair has the stupid pole to attach all the monitors needed for my short excursion to the paediatric ward, with Nurse Sara gently pushing me.

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