"Well, the short story is -"
Jennie interrupts, "I don't want to hear the short story. I've been watching you sit in that bar, alone, since March. If I wanted a short story I wouldn't have let you drive me to a secluded area and handed over my wall...
"Were you okay?" Jennie asks, eyes red from the threat of tears and hands folded politely in her lap.
Lisa raises an eyebrow in confusion, "Well I'm sitting here, aren't I?"
"Right, I just..." Jennie laughs nervously, "I thought maybe there would be a plot twist in there where you actually did die and that would mean I was dead too and... you know what, never mind. So what happened next?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lisa wakes up to the smell of latex and something a bit reminiscent of saline solution. When her eyes adjust to the white walls around her, she knows where she is. She'd only been in a hospital bed once, back when she was five years old and passed out in the middle of her kindergarten classroom. It wasn't anything serious – just mild dehydration, but it was enough to make Lisa never want to end up in a hospital again.
But she's here now, and there's not much she can do about it. She briefly thinks about tearing the IV out of her arm like confused, angry people do in movies, but decides against it. Instead, she tries to remember why the hell she's here in the first place. There's a throbbing pain against her skull, so maybe she hit her head against something? Lisa brings her fingers to her forehead but frowns when she can't feel any abrasions against her skin.
Just breathe, Lisa. Calm down and a doctor will come in here and explain everything to you soon enough. Just breathe.
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Lisa's eyes focus on a cup of applesauce resting atop a table beside her bed. She slowly pulls her body up to reach for the container when –
"Fuck!" Lisa exclaims, immediately falling back to her bed and bringing a hand to rest on her chest – a stabbing pain suddenly shooting through the area.
The brunette brings her fingers to the neckline of her hospital gown and pulls it down far enough to see a large, white piece of gauze covering the left side of her chest – light spots of blood beginning to show through the bandage.
Lisa runs her hand over her face in exhausted confusion and reaches for the button on the side of her bed that has a picture of a nurse on it. Just as her finger presses down on the icon, she remembers.
She remembers Mica and the pink, dry birthmarks that had covered his scalp. She remembers the sweat that fell from his fingertips before he wiped them off on his jeans. She remembered the way he looked at Chaeyoung and –
Oh God. Chaeyoung.
She remembers why she's here, in this devastatingly depressing hospital room. Lisa presses the nurse button again and again and again and again and –
"You're awake," A woman with jet-black hair says simply from the doorway.
"Is Chaeyoung here?"
The woman purses her lips, "I'll get someone to come in and talk to you."
