" i think i've seen this film before
and i didn't like the ending....."
Isabella Stacy thought the worst of her life was well and truly over. That is until her magical necklace shatters and sends her back in time, in an entirely di...
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"Female, looks to be in her early twenties. She's got several contusions and a large laceration on her upper right forearm. Paramedics have confirmed she has a concussion,"
The hospital is loud with activity, the gurney being pushed down through the populated halls where people look on curiously. The girl is unconscious, her eyes closed as if she's in a peaceful sleep with not a worry in the world. Oh, if only these people truly knew what circles about in her mind. Nobody in this hospital would stand the slightest of chances, they'd run in fear much like everybody else had back home.
The innocence that paints her face is merely a facade to the darkness that runs through her veins.
"I need an IV,"
The voice is sweet and feminine, the words flowing through Isabella's ears as her brain wills her to wake up. Her body is immobile, at the mercy of the pain that is slowly creeping it's way through her limbs. As a result, a soft groan emerges from her lips and alerts the staff around her that she is perhaps close to opening those eyes.
"That's it, sweetheart. I know it hurts but we're going to administer some pain medication now,"
That same voice, one that the unconscious girl cannot help but cling too even in such uncertainty. It reminds her so much of her older sister, gentle and encouraging — but it's not Gwen, it can't be Gwen. Perhaps this is simply as close as she'll get, some random hospital worker who may be able to help her, even though she severely doubts that.
"What are we looking at here, Nurse Holmes?"
This voice is gruff and a lot less friendly and she's so disorientated, that all she can think about is the man who is practically responsible for this entire situation. Doctor Octavius. Isabella's heartbeat begins to accelerate exponentially and it alerts the nurse that something is wrong.
Isabella feels a kind touch against her forehead, smoothing the hair out of her face in an attempt to calm her down. It works, just a little bit, but her heart rate is still much too fast for the nurse's liking.
"You're at the hospital. We're here to help you,"
Isabella has been to her fair share of hospitals and she cannot say she's ever been particularly comfortable in them. The idea of strangers coming and going at all hours of the day whilst she is kept in a bed, unable to flee the scene like she wants to. She also remembers the bed she'd laid on that day the serum had been injected into her veins — the stark white walls with IV machines and incessant beeping.
Isabella can slowly feel herself waking up.
"My husband brought her in, said he found her in the field by our house,"
Her husband? It's all such a blur, but there is a vague recollection of a male voice before she passed out amongst the grass. She can only imagine the green plants intertwined within her hair, more than likely knotted and in desperate need of a wash after that encounter.
