Winifred Sloan (whitewitchita) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-02-22 16:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-09-01, winifred |
Hello, hello it’s only me infecting everything you love
Who: Winifred and her father (NPC'd)
Where: Her hospital room // phonelines
When: late afternoon
After a lot of pleading and cajoling, Winifred had finally managed to convince Isaiah to go home to rest. He needed it, terribly, and while the haze of drugs that made her feel sleepy had muddled time for her, Winifred knew she had done the right thing. He couldn't stay with her the whole time! It was sweet that he had stayed as long as he had, and it left the white witch feeling an immeasurable sense of peacefulness and happiness in the wake of something so terrible. It was still a miracle that Isaiah had found her at all, and it was just another reminder of how blessed she was that she'd chosen the Owl's Nest as the start to her job hunt. As much as she could hold onto one thought, Winifred had a sinking feeling when she thought about how many days she had missed -- and would continue to miss -- because of her injury. Though, she seemed to remember mentioning it and being told that she need not worry about that until she was healthy. Not to mention the fact that the college semester would begin -- tomorrow? Was it always tomorrow, or had that changed? As much as she tried, Winifred's thoughts tended to chase each other around in her head and get tumbled all up until they didn't make any sense. Still, all she had to do was call up the memory of Isaiah telling her that he loved her, and then it was all happiness and a contented glow.
Until the phone rang.
Was it possible to be so startled as to be temporarily incapable of movement? If it was, then that was what happened to Winifred. After the second ring, her eyebrows lifted up a fraction before she reached over to grab the receiver on the phone that was sitting on the bedside table.
"H-Hello?" Winifred cleared her throat past the sudden dryness. Anyone she knew would just have called her cell phone, not the hospital.
"Winifred?" The redhead's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Her father's gruff voice was there, on the other line, a thread of -- something in his voice that she couldn't place.
"Daddy?" The nickname slipped out before she could stop herself.
"...Yeah." The tone of reluctance in his voice jumped out at her over the line.
"How--"
"You still have me listed as an emergency contact?"
"Yeah..." Winifred's brow furrowed, finding it hard to focus.
"Good. The doc' said you took a pretty good spill." There was that tone again, and she was sure it was concern.
"Yes..." Tears flooded Winifred's eyes, barely able to comprehend the fact that after the last time they had talked, her father had even bothered to call.
"Said you were at the march." His voice was softer that time.
"I was--" Her voice was becoming choked with tears. Did her father really still care? After all that she'd gone through in the last few days, it was too much to hope for.
"They...they said you could've died." A new tone filled up his voice, and for a moment, Winifred couldn't understand why it sounded warmer than before. No, it sounded caustic, hot. Like---
"Daddy--"
"Should've died." His voice was clipped, angry. So, he was still angry with her over something she couldn't have stopped even if she had wanted. A broken sob caught in her throat as she slammed the receiver back in its cradle. For a long time, all she knew was the sound of her sobs and the frantic beeping of the monitors as her pulse raced with her tears.