Narrative: Helena Who: Helena Wayne What: Where oh where has a kitten been Where: Gotham General When:Currentish Warnings/Rating: Apathy.
Hospital rooms were tubes in brains, the whirr and click of the IV, needles poking and prodding at her skin. It was unisex gowns that were too loose around her thin frame and blankets that were thin. This time was no different, only it came with the added joys of nurses checking her stitches and the person in the corner, someone that changed every shift but remained to make sure she didn't try to kill herself again. That desire was chased out of her veins by a pretty clear liquid pushed into her IV. An early birthday present maybe, because it gave peace and required her to feel nothing at all. Fear, anger, sadness, all as foreign as happiness and joy.
It was better that way if she was going to live.
Better.
And it looked like live she would. It had required surgery to heal internal wounds that her angel had not managed and stitches that itched, seven of them that were not tiny and perfect like the ones that had held her scalp together. These ones were larger and held her insides inside so no one could see blood and bone and the movement of her diaphragm.
The first day had been walking across the hallway in the Surgical ICU to the ice machine. No further. She slept the rest of the day. The second day had been down the hallway. The third, further, and then the move to Surgical step down.
Today, she wasn't winded as they went on their walk, her third for today, but this time she stopped at the locked doors leading to the ward for those with the money to spend on better treatment. Dick was behind those doors. She could hit the little button on the wall and tell whoever answered that she was here to see Dick, her brother, and they'd let her in, she knew. She could avoid going to the county facility for mental health where she was supposed to be discharged to in a few hours.
She could, but those doors might as well have been the Grand Canyon and there was no seeing the other side, no seeing Dick.
"Do you know someone in there, Alison?" Asked her minder. Helena shook her head. No one that she knew now. And the people here? They didn't know her as Helena Wayne, she'd made a point of that.
"No, no one," said just above a whisper as she reached out to touch the door, but she didn't push, didn't try to get in, just gave it one last look before she started walking back down the hallway in the direction she'd come from.
Whoever Helena Wayne was, that girl was gone. Maybe not dead, but gone, and Alison felt nothing for the woman she might have been. All was numb.