Gemma Reilly (angelsinangles) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2016-04-29 02:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | #day 032, erran, gemma, pam |
Who: Gemma, Erran, and Pam
Where: In and around Gemma's room
When: who but TPTB can say? (around 9 AM)
The first time Gemma woke in her own room, she barely woke at all. She drifted to the surface enough that she stirred, and felt a peculiar pain in her arm. It was dark, dark as the back side of midnight, and her free hand drifted up to touch the lump of the IV, the tubing attached to it. She felt the bracelet move against her wrist. Hospital. Nothing hurt, not really… the back of her neck felt painful, but she'd turned her head to look around…
She was too tired to think.
When she woke again, it was still dark. Maybe she'd only slept for a few minutes, but it felt like hours. It might have been hours. She had no memory of what had happened. She'd been walking to meet Michael… and that was it. She'd been on the sidewalk. Had she been sideswiped by a car? No--rule that out. She wasn't in pain.
She sat up, exploring the bed with her hand. It wasn't a hospital bed, and whatever she was touching was not a hospital blanket; it felt like a quilt, and she touched a headboard that felt ornate. Her pulse picked up.
She felt for the IV, and when she touched the tubing she followed it, slipping out of bed. Rug under her bare feet. Okay. She kept tracing the tubing to the IV stand, feeling it with her fingers, and then she barked her shin on something hard and fell forward. There was a crash, and the full-bodied pop of a lightbulb being broken, the spark of a lamp cord pulled out of its socket. She caught herself on the edge of the bed, but not before she hit the floor.
"Ow," she said loudly. Then: "Fuck. Jesus fuck."