Recovery Period

Chapter 1

A cold sweat. It's how she always woke up, drenched through to her sheets. She stared into the darkness around her, the early morning sunrise just starting to peek through the bottom of her curtain-covered window. Against her own judgement, she picked up her phone from where it lay face down on her nightstand: 5:43am. Her least favorite start to her day: too late to bother wrestling back to sleep and too early to just head in and get the workday over with. She groaned and fell back onto her wet sheets, yelping at the cold wetness and bolting up again.

With a sigh, she threw her legs over the side of her bed and stood, stripping the sheets as she went. The waterproof cover did it's job again, saving the mattress from the moisture. She gathered the sheets under one arm and headed to the laundry room, grumbling as she shoved the wet sheets into the washer on top of the set from yesterday... and the day before. She went ahead and threw her soaked pajamas in on top and started the load, hurrying back to her bedroom on bare feet before her entire body was covered in goosebumps from the chill.

Without thinking about it, she grabbed the comforter off her bed and curled up into it, yawning as she settled into her cross-legged position on the floor. It didn't take long to realize that she'd settled pretty far away from her phone. Rather than getting up and walking over to her nightstand to grab it, she decided to stay cocooned and butt-scooted over to the side of her bed where she managed to reach the phone: 6:01am.

She groaned, exhausted by her morning already, and hunkered down into her comforter even more, barely leaving the top of her head exposed. She stayed there for a while, hiding from the chilly air and the start of the day. Eventually her alarm went off and she shrugged the blanket down, shuddering against the rush of cool air as she fumbled for her phone. She finally found it in the folds of the blanket and swiped her finger tip across the screen: 7:15am.

With one more yawn, she stood, tossing the comforter back on the naked bed, and made a mental note to get the last set of sheets put on before she left. She'd never do it after work. She made quick work of getting dressed, covering up with a loose pair of joggers, a black sports bra and hoodie, and a pair of well-loved Timberland boots. She fumbled through putting the fresh sheets over her mattress and lazily tossed the pillows and comforter back onto the bed. The mirror attached to her closet door showed a relatively put together young woman, with insane bed-head. She snorted and reached up, smoothing it down with her hands.

Turning to leave, she paused and glanced at something on the floor that had fallen from her bed. In her haste, she'd forgotten about him momentarily. "I'm sorry, Mol," she murmured to the threadbare stuffed rabbit she lifted from the floor. She brushed off his shabby brown-and-white fur as if worried he might have gotten dirty from his brief contact with the floor. "Bye, buddy. I'll be back later," she told him, giving him a quick hug before hastily tucking him in and heading for the door.

Her boots echoed off the hard floors as she trudged down her short staircase, landing in the kitchen. She glanced at her phone to check the time and was surprised to see a notification on it so early in the morning. She looked at it more closely and saw the preview of her boss' message on the screen, "Thunderstorm likely, no job today." A moment of elation was followed by a creeping feeling of dread. While she wasn't looking forward to hanging off the side of a house that was mid-build, especially in the rain after a too-early start that morning, she was sort of looking forward to the distraction from everything else.

She kicked off her boots and her socks followed, both discarded at the foot of the stairs. With her only obligation for the day lifted, keeping her mind focused on self-maintenance tasks fell to the rear of her priorities. She became absorbed in her phone, scrolling mindlessly as she glanced occasionally into the fridge or freezer or pantry until something finally sounded decent enough to eat. She made a quick glass of chocolate milk and left the associated mess scattered across the counter, though she did remember to close the fridge with the milk back inside. 

With the cup in hand, she made her way into the living room and set her glass on the square coffee table, directly beside the coaster she ignored. She settled onto the floor, in the corner space between the table and the L-shaped couch. Her pile from the previous night was still there and she happily burrowed into the mound of pillows, blankets, and the ocassional stuffed animal. In the center of the pile, she found her tablet, still attached to the charger and headphones.

Before she could get too settled in, she took a few gulps of milk and ended up downing the glass entirely. She started to retreat back into the pile when she realized she'd left Molasses upstairs in her bed. "Mol!" she shrieked, scrambling out of her pile. In the process, a stray pillow found it's way across the coffee table, knocking the empty glass to the floor where it shattered.

She froze, staring at the glass shards on the floor, and chewed her lip while she pondered what to do next. She wanted Molasses, more than she did 30 seconds ago, but she knew that she needed to clean the glass up. She stood for a long while, hopping foot to foot while she worried her lip raw between her teeth.

Eventually her phone vibrated from the kitchen table and she snapped her head around, realizing how long she'd been stuck. She shook her head and trotted upstairs, grabbing Mol from beneath the covers. She grabbed some paper towels as she headed through the kitchen and the dust pan and small broom from where it lay on the floor of the pantry. She fumbled with everything in her hands, but managed to deposit Mol on the couch from where he was pinched under her arm and she crouched down by the broken glass.

Sweeping everything was pretty easy and the milk remnants had long dried on the hard floor, so she saw no need to wipe anything up. She gathered up the paper towels and lifted the dustpan with the glass shards in it, but with her other hand occupied, she was unable to keep the pan from tiling forward as she stood. Several large pieces of glass fell over the edge toward the floor, one of which landed squarely on the top of her bare left foot.

It took a minute to register what had happened, but when the reality sunk in, so did the pain. Blood flowed from a large gash across her pale skin and she suddenly became numb. She felt panic rushing through every muscle, every single nerve ending, and her body moved on it's own. She retreated as far as she could, running on auto pilot as she cleaned up the remaining glass, clumsily wrapped her bleeding foot in paper towels before shoving it into her boot, and grabbed her belongings.

In a matter of moments she was out the door with her wallet, keys, phone, and Mol, opening the car door to drive to the local urgent care. She wasn't smart about much, but she knew when a cut probably needed stitches. Driving was tricky, mostly because the feeling of blood filling her left boot was nauseating, but she made it the 10 minutes without issue. She reached over into the passenger seat to grab her keys and phone, glancing at Mol briefly before deciding to leave him behind. 

"I'll be back," she muttered, somehow nervous someone might overhear her talking to her rabbit inside her own car. She laid his ears down on either side of his head, laid his paws in his lap and put a kiss to his furry forehead. She sat up quickly, almost sucked into his smell, and exited the car as quickly as she dared. The distinct "squish" of her boot as she stepped down onto the pavement was too much for her remaining nerves and the panic surged. She gripped the car door and managed to sink to the ground just before she lost consciousness.