The Major Lift. Rewrite one.

Done Fighting.

'Wasn't Chris just here?' Aurora thought to themselves as one by one, their senses flickered back online like an ancient computer being booted up for the first time in eons. A faint ticking came from their right and the distinctive twittering of a bird came from the left. As they moved their leg, they heard the rustling of crisp sheets and felt the itch of the thin gown they'd had been put in. Their good hand came up to rest on their chest and they were mildly disturbed to find it was unbound. Two plastic tubes stuck out of their nostrils, feeding them air and their bad arm rested by their side. It wasn't exactly painful but sensation was dulled, if anything it felt velvety. They must be on some drug or anesthetic. As they opened their eyes, a cold, harsh light stabbed at them, and they squinted . They brought their cannulated hand up to shield them and saw they was in a different room to the one they'd been in the night before, they were sure of it. As their eyes adjusted to the light, the I.V. bag and the white hanging ceiling above came into clear view. They looked over toward the twittering sound and saw the window open. A pleasant breeze was wafting the smell of eucalyptus through it.

They glanced toward the nightstand and their eyes roved upward. Something was sitting there and they blinked it into clearer focus. They used their good hand to fumble for the button on the side rail to bring the head of the bed up. They twisted over to push themselves up, feeling their left arm drag along, heavy and aching. They came to rest with her knees curled in under them and scrutinised the little package, card and tiny foil balloon sitting there on the nightstand.
They reached their good hand over to it, unheeding of its tether to the pole opposite and picked up the card sitting on top. It was small and embossed with the words 'Get Well' and inside, she read the words Chris had scribbled. It looked like she didn't make a habit of picking up a pen that often. They felt something crack inside them, something that had been hardened for a long time. A little bit of the wall they'd had built up over the years crumbled as their face flushed. They closed the card and perched it back on the nightstand before picking up and examining the package. Its contents made her smile even wider, some hygiene items, a brush and some tissues. The foil balloon was emblazoned with a picture of a guitar and as Aurora looked at it, They felt their heart skip a little. Chris had indeed been in, they remembered now and she was once again, relentlessly kind. They placed the package back on the nightstand and rubbed at their eyes.
Chris had born witness to possibly the worst breakdown of Auroras life. Normally, they preferred to hide these from anyone and everyone at all costs but this time, Chris had seen it all. They wondered what Chris would think ... Would she think I'm just crazy? Sick? Desperate?' they asked themselves, worried. 'Was Chris leaving? Is that why she left the balloon n' the card n' all?' they wondered darkly. Privately, they thought this wouldn't surprise them in the least, afterall they never expected anyone to want to tolerate them much less befriend them. Nobody ever did that after all and it was way easier to kill expectations than be sad about it.
They remembered their mother, and Michael back at home. They looked back at the nightstand and saw their phone, sitting there with a sticky note on it which read 'call me some time. Chris'. They opened it and saw about a dozen missed calls from Michael and one text. 'Answer your damn phone, you idiot!' They sighed.
A terrible and difficult conversation awaited them. They would have to explain to him that they weren't coming home, that they were in the hospital and that they and mum weren't speaking. They would have to assure him that they'd be fine, and stop him from leaving home as an act of  protest. He was just a kid. They wouldn't have that. But at least right now, they could tell him where they were ...
'I'm at Mercy General. I got injured but I'm fine. Don't come down here, just go to school. How's mum? ' they typed out a message to Michael and hit send, seeing that the time on the screen was nine thirty in the morning. By their vague estimate, they'd been out about fourteen hours including however long the procedure took.
They lifted their tingling, bound left arm and examined it. The bandage was tight but not too tight. There was a tube coming down from the elbow which lead to a small bulb. There was a small amount of fluid in it the couler of port wine. They averted their eyes from it, disgusted. They wriggled their fingers and found themselves relieved that they were functional, if a little sluggish and clumsy. They laid back down on their adjusted bed and pulled the covers back up, thinking of Michael and Chris. Their phone buzzed in their hand and they glanced at it.
The reply text read 'I'm glad to hear you're alright. Mum's upset. I heard you two yelling at each other the other night and then I heard the door slam and guessed you'd left but you didnt come back.  Are you going to come back?'
'I got into an accident after I left. No, I don't think so. Mum doesn't want me to. At the moment though, I don't think I'm going to be let out of here for a few days. Please try not to worry, Mike. I know you will but please. We were yelling because that letter pissed her off. As did the implication. You were right. She's formed her judgment and she's sticking with it. That's that. I'm out. And I'm not going back in' they replied wondering how much they should tell him. How much of their reality could he take?
Her phone gave a little buzzing chirp and she looked down at the chat box she shared with her brother.
'Yeah, mum and I had a row too. I called her out on her bullshit but I didn't leave, I knew you'd have a fit. But it's not pretty. She's gone insane. I'm really sorry, Aro. I know you weren't ready to be out at home. I managed to snag the letter if you want'  his text read. Aurora looked at it and their eyes filled with tears. 'He's such a little softie' they thought to themselves as they typed out another message which simply read 'Thanks. Loads'. They couldn't think of any other words to respond with. If it wasn't the sincerity he showed through his words or the fact that he'd done the smart thing despite his own row with his mother and stayed at home, it was his having snagged the letter from her and keeping it safe for them that really melted their heart.
Between his tactfulness and Chris with her constant stream of kindness, Aurora was truly taken aback in a big way. There was nothing about any of this treatment they were used to. Nothing at all.
Aurora rolled over in the bed and rested their arm on the side rail where their fingers dangled. The fluid-filled bulb hung over the edge, obscured from view, thankfully. They didn't think they could look at that again.

Time fell through the sieve of their awareness steadily while they closed their eyes and tried to think of what hadn't changed. There was very little actually. All that remained was themselves Everything about their relationship with their family had changed. What little of a relationship they'd let develop with Chris and her tall friend whose name escaped them wasn't there before. The walls of their nice if a little cluttered closet were gone. Their home was now a no-go. Their fretting arm was mangled but felt relatively functional, what little they knew of postoperative care left a lot about the nature of their injury or its repair to the imagination. There really was no going back. They tried to think of how they might adapt. The frontal area of their brain, shirking the last of the anaesthesia, was waking up to this new reality, and it looked bleak. There was nowhere to go after hospital.
The walls they'd built to hide behind, the layers of security they'd erected around them just to keep people out, were being dismantled. And they had not been consulted about about it. They looked around and lifted the covers to see if there were any other chords and leads holding them to the bed and saw none. They examined the cannula sticking out of their arm and swallowed back the bite of nausea that it elicited. They ran their eyes along its tubing to the bag. Its label read 'cephalexin' and underneath it; 'saline zero point nine percent'. It was dripping into a drip chamber and was being fed through a pump. They ran their hand over the site where it fed into their arm and their contemplation was interrupted by a knock at the door.