Threads of Silver

Heal

It seemed you had slept the good part of the next four days, waking only briefly as the nurse aids brought small portions of bland food. You didn't care- the meal was warm, and that would suffice. Your day fluctuated between those three scheduled meals, and they soon became your only measurement of time passing. They would remove the previous meal's tray, replacing it with the next meal like a changing of the guard. You had assumed in your half-sleep state that the doctor had kept you on a steady strain of heavy pain meds, keeping you unconscious for the greater part of the days. 

It was on the fifth day, the medication had been lessened enough for you to come back to regular consciousness. You woke with a headache- you didn't realize that there could be a thing as too much rest, but your head was swimmy with the shake back to reality. 

You noticed upon waking that your leg was no where near the throbbing, angry, bright red it was, and the gauze and  bandages were thinner and lesser than before. The dull, annoying beep of the heart monitor chirped through the room, and you ran a pale hand through your tangled hair. 

When you had begun to gather your thoughts, you heard the heart rate monitor increase its rhythm. The last memories of consciousness that you had flooded back, and you remembered it all. 

The invisible Force choking you, holding you dangling above the floor. The angry, impatient growls, demanding answers you did not have. The hollow blackness of the mask. The liquid chrome highlights reflecting your fearful face. General Hux's message; 'we found it.'

Remembering these encounters sent a wave of energy through your rested body. The room you were in was quiet, dark, and more importantly...empty. You looked around for a clock, praying to have a hint at the current time, but there was none to be found. You noticed the tray of food you had eaten the previous day was yet to be removed, signifying it was some odd time between night and morning. 

You shifted, a spark of hope returning to your chest. They were still treating your wounds, changing your bandages, feeding you- that had to be a good sign. Right? You didn't feel like a guest, whatsoever. In fact, you felt more like a lamb being prepared for slaughter. 

Bringing your legs to hang over the edge of the hospital bed, your bare feet dangled above the icy floor. Your leg felt eons better than it had, and the painful pressure was almost non existent now. Finally.  It was beginning to feel you had a dog in this fight- a chance to still make it out of here. 

Wiggling your toes, and lowering the bottom of your feet to the cold floor, you tested the steadiness of your legs. They still felt weak- but nothing compared to what they had been. The IV connected to you was easily yanked out with a quick tug. 

Your mind was quickly made up with your newly recharged energy... it was high time to get the fuck out of here.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, your legs seemed to be somewhat in agreement- they were ready to run. The room was silent, aside from the patter of your feet shuffling towards the door. Taking a moment to assess the room a little further, you looked for some sort of weapon. None that could hold its own to a Stormtrooper's blaster, and you had assumed yours had long been confiscated. 

Leaning your ear to the door, you were met with silence. Perfect. It seemed as though the ship was still sleeping, for the most part- the perfect time to make a dash. You halted, glancing at the keypad near the door frame. Nine glossy, squared buttons, in three rows of three. You had cracked the codes on pin-pads of this sort on countless ships prior- locked doors never were a problem for you, especially when expensive ship parts were just begging to be taken on the other side.