nadine mckinnon had a prosthetic right foot, a bandage she never took off her left wrist, and a permanent residence in pennhurst mental hospital
[ stranger things season four ]
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THREE! to-do
NADINE HAD NEVER had a shower where someone wasn't waiting on the other side of the door before. It was strange, she thought, as Nancy closed the door, and Nadine heard her retreating footsteps go downstairs.
She had never been trusted enough to even wash her hair alone without a guard waiting outside the bathroom in case she tried to do anything she shouldn't be.
Nadine's reflection was a tormented soul, tear lines cutting tracks down her face, dried blood flaking slightly in her cupids bow from her nosebleed, hair matted, and her white scrubs tattered and ruined.
With trembling fingers, Nadine got undressed, letting her dirtied clothes fall to a crumpled heap on the floor. Next, she unravelled the bandage around her left wrist, frowning deeply when she saw the layers of mangled scarring underneath. Gently, she ran the tips of her fingers over the raised levels of flesh and skin, imagining the numbered tattoo she now knew was once there.
She was twelve when she had used a kitchen knife to get rid of the inked numbers, and psychiatrists dubbed it a suicide attempt, but now Nadine recognised the real reason she did it. Losing all association with Papa was what felt like the logical step. Nadine didn't want a constant reminder of the monster she had been turned into within the lab walls, of all the blood and death she had left behind as she ran away.
Finally, Nadine bent down to remove her prosthetic right foot. The straps around the bottom half of her shin were mostly buckles, and she successfully loosened them, leaving her metal foot on the floor.
The shower water was warm by the time she climbed in, and sat down under the stream, letting it wash away the blood and dirt. It felt strange, to actually be alone for the first time in years. To not have a person waiting on the other side of the door, listening for anything 'strange' that would give them a reason to burst in while she was vulnerable and exposed.
Nadine took her time washing the dirt and sweat from her body, cleaning her hair and using Nancy's floral conditioner to work out the knots. She forgot how nice a shower could be, how peaceful that time of self-care could feel.
When she was done, Nadine reattached her right foot. In all honesty, it didn't really resemble an actual foot, it was more a length of metal to act as half her shin, a joint that gave the same flexibility as an ankle, and a flat piece of metal to give her a surface area to stand on.
She wrapped herself in a white towel, fluffier than any she had felt before, and used a smaller one to start hand drying her hair. Nancy's room was a world apart from the small cells Nadine was used to, and on the bed was a set of pyjamas carefully laid out for her; an oversized t-shirt with a Duran Duran album cover on the front, and baggy plaid pants, with a pair of fluffy slippers.
