hypatia (bladesong) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-08-10 17:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [08] august |
WHO: Wren and anyone on Security
WHEN: August 10th
WHERE: Somewhere between her room and the infirmary
WHAT: Finding a dead body
RATING: Low
STATUS: Incomplete
Is wasn't a far distance from her room in Cellblock B to the infirmary. Wren had done it a hundred times since her arrival at Sing Sing. So, even though the buddy system had been in effect for a while, she saw no harm in running back alone after her shift. She hadn't meant to stay long and had declined offers from anyone who had dropped by for one reason or another. If she was going to be honest, this wasn't the first time Wren had done the trip alone since the buddy system was placed. Despite what people thought, Wren wasn't as helpless as she seemed, she'd made it to Sing Sing pretty much by herself, even though she wasn't an immune. Well, as far as she knew. This distance, something that took her on average a little more than 10 minutes to do, wasn't something that seemed daunting as Wren packed up and left the infirmary.
There was a creeping sensation down her spine tonight though and Wren hurried her way past dark and abandoned rooms. Sing Sing at night, had always seemed just a little more frightening than during the day but tonight, it felt different. Through each darkened hall she practically ran, the tingle of some unknown entity at her back, chasing Wren quickly to her room. If the noise hadn't been so undeniably human, she would have ignored it and kept running. The tone, the pitch of it had been too human for her to ignore though. It was weak, but in the dead silence it echoed and followed her hurried footsteps.
It should be said, that Wren was used to dead bodies. She'd been up close and personal with cadavers in medical school, been around a few people who had died on the table while doing her residency and after the dead started walking, it was safe to say; Wren was used to dead bodies. More or less. Besides those who were not immune, Wren had never really lost a patient. Not anyone whose life was solely in her hands, who depended on her to stay alive. To continue living.
So that voice--that tiny noise that drew her into the room in Cellblock D-- that person was the first person Wren had tried to save and failed. She had failed. That idea of failing in doing something she was trained to do, haunted her. It filled her with an emptiness that Wren knew she would never fill.
The person was laid out on the floor; a dark pool stretching out around them, it was hard to see but the scant light from outside, reflected it back at Wren. She only hesitated a moment before rushing forward and pressing her hand against the persons throat, where it gushed quickly. In the darkness she couldn't make out many features but grabbed at the persons shirt to stop the flow of blood. A part of Wren knew that she had already lost them, too much blood had spilled, but the physician inside fought to keep pressure, to keep hope that they would live. She kept her face impassive, whispering reassurances to the person before her and keeping her hand still.
As she pulled out her phone, typing one concise and short note to the network, Wren's hands shook. Her breathing had become erratic and shook violently as she typed, the only indication that any panic had set in. While Wren waited for someone, anyone to answer she called out. "Help!" her voice echoing back at her, she looked up briefly from the other person to scream more words of distress. "Please!" she yelled again as she kept her hands to their throat. Wren looked back down, holding the gaze of the unknown person beneath her hand and watched in the dim light as life slipped from their eyes. Tears fell as Wren felt their heart beat stop, their blood slow and the shudder of their dying body still. She wept, still holding the soaked shirt to their throat.
After a few moments, once her tears had stilled, Wren swept the persons eyes closed and then standing robotically she waited outside. In silence, eyes red and cheeks stained, Wren pressed against the wall. She kept her blood soaked hands in front of her, and waited for someone to answer her calls.