Gabriella Lawrence (_dancingflames) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-02-08 14:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-31, gabby |
And all I feel is this cruel wanting
Who: Harley and Gabby
Where: Gabby's hospital room
When: around 1:30pm
There were lots of things that Gabby had experienced throughout her life. She'd gotten hurt before, and she'd definitely gotten scared before, but nothing, not a thing could compare with how terrified she'd been the day prior. She'd always considered herself stronger, more adapted than most fire elementals ever since her brother's teasing seemed to build up some sort of tolerance to Water. Oh, how she had been wrong to assume that meant anything at all. Her association with the opposing element had only stunted her growth in her own powers, keeping her behind the learning curve. Not to mention the whole ordeal with the mermaid. No, mer-man. Boy. Whatever. Gabby never wanted to think about water ever again. It was bad enough that the nurses had had to make sure her mangled leg wounds and stitches were still clean, but did they really have to use water? Gabby realized that she was being just the tiniest bit irrational about the whole idea, but really. She would die happy from dehydration if it weren't for the IV they'd forced on her. Most of the time in between being in the river and waking up in the hospital bed was just gone, a blank, static place in her brain she felt sure it would be best not to remember even if she could. Thankfully, her father had stayed by her bedside the entire night, so she hadn't woken up alone. He'd even managed to sneak Urist inside somehow, though the fox had not enjoyed having to be crammed into a duffel bag underneath some clothing. Once they'd seen that she was awake, and she'd reassured them that she felt okay--thanks to the drugs they'd given her--she's sunk into some strange sort of stupor. Gabby did not want to talk, at least not to her father. There were some things that he just couldn't understand, having never had any sort of fear of water. Her silence was the real measure of just how badly she was affected by the recent trauma, and Urist had understood instantly. The little fox had even helped convince her dad that she just needed to be alone, to figure things out on her own.
But even the silence was too much to stand. No, the little beeps her phone made as she typed words into a text message were soothing. If she could just talk to her friends, any of them, she would feel better, especially since she needn't have to talk out loud. Well, until it became clear that Harley at least wanted to come visit her immediately. At the same time that she desperately wanted to see the were-riflebird, she was somehow embarrassed--no, ashamed--that he'd have to see her like this. It was her own fault for going in the water, really. Well, and the fact that Disney was a fucking liar. Mermaids were evil, flesh-eating creatures. That was Gabby's opinion and she was sticking to it. There were no words for the level of hatred she felt inside her, or the magnitude of the damage caused by that encounter. Even the infinitesimally small sound of the IV dripping was setting the fire elemental on edge. And more to the point, it felt as if she just couldn't get warm, no matter how many blankets they'd given her. It was like the water had infected her system to a cellular degree when she'd breathed it in, and there was no way to get it out. Gabby could lie to herself all she wanted, but even her father had been worried over the dramatic change in her mood. The doctor had called it just another symptom of trauma, a minor case of PTSD that would resolve itself after a while. Gabby did not believe it would go away, and even texting with Harley hadn't been able to bring a smile to her face. Something was wrong with her, terribly wrong. Would it go away? Would she ever smile again? She didn't know. And that was nothing next to the staggering weight of the reality of her injuries. Would she ever be able to dance the same way? Just the tiniest thought about that had her fighting to stop thinking, to push the horror away. To hide herself in the numbness that was partly from the trauma and partly chemical. God help the mermaids of the world if she never danced again.