Chương 172: Act 3, Chapter 26: Hospitals and other calamities

Day in the story: 7th January (Wednesday) I felt terrified, even though Sophie was with me the entire time. Paramedics arrived at Lebens' house and made a quick assessment of the damage, and I could tell by their faces already that it wasn't looking too good for me.

"It looks swollen and mangled. Darkened skin is also not a good sign. How long ago did you have your accident?"

"Yesterday evening," I replied, not really knowing how to lie properly in that case. I wasn't a medic and didn't know what was plausible and what wasn't. Sophie kept her hand on my shoulder.

"We'll have to stabilize it with splints quickly. How is the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Eh, five?" I asked, not sure. It was much worse before the soup, when it was everywhere.

"Five!?" The guy splinting my leg sounded surprised.

"Is that bad?" Sophie asked, squeezing my shoulder unknowingly.

"No, no. We usually have people saying much higher numbers in similar situations," he said, finishing whatever he was doing. The other guy brought me a small pill, but I refused to take it, shaking my head.

"We will take you to a hospital quickly. There is no time to waste here. I know it's not something you'd like to hear, but every second counts in cases like yours," he added and helped buckle me up. Sophie sat next to me.

"It's going to be okay, Ali." She whispered to me.

"I know," I replied matching the volume.

"I have two healing options that are only temporarily unavailable, right?" I asked her.

"Yes."

"How long will it take for Lebens? To do whatever needs to be done? And also please, call me Jess."

"I am sorry," She said, covering her mouth.

"They weren't sure. Ariana said that Nick's been weakened after the release, but his Shadow looked quite okay after extraction. They wanted to go along with the standard procedure and off it, as it apparently resets it back to the state from before the joining or something," she whispered, making sure that the guy with us didn't hear anything.

"But Nick asked them not to do that."

"So he's with his own Shadow now?"

"Yes. And Lebens try to keep both of them topped off with their healing powers, but it's their souls that need it, so it's not that easy."

"I see. Complicated stuff."

"Unfortunately. I will call Zoe to ask about Peter when we are on site, okay?"

"Do it," I told her, focusing on my leg. It felt better when it was immobilized at the ankle. It seemed like it was healed up to the knee from the top, and everything below was just lightly touched by the spell hidden in the soup. I was damn sure, however, that the blackness wasn't anything to ignore.

Trauma ward was an intense place that seemed to be in perpetual motion. I vaguely remembered that it was impossible due to physics, and yet in here everything was in action. Someone cried about insurance as if his world had just ended—and maybe it had. Who am I to judge? My leg throbbed as they rolled me on a wheelchair into the hall, and someone came over to check on me while the paramedics relayed all the information I gave them to another person who looked like a doctor.

My leg throbbed with a deep, nauseating pressure while the questions started.

"We will have to remove the splints now."

"Do it. I don't mind."

"You don't? What's the pain level?"

"I told the paramedics that it was five." They cut the splints off quickly, without much buildup. It seemed like they'd done that a thousand times before, which, to be honest, was both a relief, as it suggested experience, but also a terror-inducing feeling. Would I be just another name on the list and nothing more? I hated hospitals with the passion of a burning sun. It was a place like this when I woke up from an accident that made me an orphan.

It was a place like this where, when I needed warmth and understanding, I was met with neglect and cold detachment. I lived not under the illusion that there was compassion in here—the willingness to help, to fix, to provide care. It might have been there once, in the hearts of those people working here, but with every patient that rolled through and every death that claimed its prize, that compassion faded away, and from the passion that burned, only smolders remained to keep those people sane.

And yet, despite the fact that I understand, I still blame them. It's difficult for me to watch them work and feel like it's justified to remove humanity from the equation when you meet people at the lowest points of their lives.

"Ali?" Sophie's voice pulled me from my deep thoughts as she squeezed my shoulder.

"Yes?" I asked, turning my head toward her. The doctor pressed my foot then, and I realized he'd done that before and asked me the same question he was asking now.

"Do you feel that?"

"Unfortunately," I replied.

"Okay," he said, reaching for some device from the deep pockets of his scrubs, or whatever his clothes were called. He applied some cold gel to my skin and used a probe to move over it. It was static, and no sound came, when it was obvious he expected to hear some. That changed the tempo. Orders were issued quickly: X-ray, vascular scans, blood work, and all of that.

"Now!" The bed I was placed on when I drifted in my thoughts started moving immediately. Sophie stayed glued to my side, her fingers wrapped around mine and jaw tight but steady. She was holding a tear for my sake. She shouldn't have to be here with me. I forced her. I could do it alone. It should have been nothing, and yet it wasn't. Those people felt like drones in a wasp's hive to me. Following orders and set paths. Reacting in predictable manners.

Moving like they were used to, when I should have been special to them. I felt cold. I felt alone again. [I am with you. Sophie's here with you. You are not alone.] I closed my eyes.

Day in the story: 9th January (Friday) Staying in the hospital was not good for my mental health. I even began to think that Jason, of all people, might have been partially right about me when he lashed out at me. I wasn't a good person by his standards, by the standards of people living those so-called normal lives. My evil twin lived her whole life without killing a single person, or even an animal for that matter.

She made that choice and stuck with it till I sucked her into my soul core's crystal, where she is forced by my decisions to use her powers to kill or hurt on my behalf. And despite the repulsion my ex-boyfriend felt for me and the harsh words, the message he was giving me was the one she'd give me too, as a product of a society protected from external threats. Killing, however justified, should be the last resort, and truth be told, I didn't treat it that way.

I got used to taking lives, and even though it briefly nauseated me when we were doing it in Ideworld en masse on the way to save him, I let that feeling fade to the back of my mind because it was uncomfortable to me. Those were just shadows or shadowspawn. They were in my way, so I had to, right? Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Well, maybe I didn't. I certainly didn't have to kill those thugs on the roof when I ran to save Bonnie in the warehouse.

The scene replayed in my mind over and over during the last twenty or so hours. I justified it because they were part of the people who took someone's grandmother. But I could not really be sure about it, could I? I'd have to do better. I'd have to be sure that the punishment I force upon people is equal to their deeds in the future. I would become a Penrose two point oh, just the way he intended me to be if I didn't—justifying anything I have to do just to feel comfortable doing it. I could not let that happen.

Staying in the hospital, however, was good for my artistic skills. Sophie brought me an assortment of papers, pens, crayons, and pencils so I could lie down and do whatever I fancied with them. I also had my phone with me, so besides musing on my very own nature, I'd been watching various YouTube tutorials on how to fold paper in traditional and modern ways, following the Japanese art of origami to turn those flat surfaces into three-dimensional models of animals and various items.

Of course, I had to start with one of the most difficult ones, because why not, right? I was suggested to go that way when I was painting spiders on the ground, so starting with this eight-legged creature sounded like—well—a sound idea. I failed miserably a few times. Okay, more than a few. Much more. Probably a hundred failed paper arachnids were discarded.

Legs too thick, paper folded just half an inch misaligned from the other fold, and it all fell apart spectacularly, producing something that looked more like a well-fed disabled crab than a proper wall-crawler. I wasn't the one used to giving up, though, and I tried and tried and adjusted and learned until I got it right. And now five of those were walking on the ceiling of my little hospital cell, as if gravity was nothing more than a gentle reminder from Reality where down was supposed to be.

At this point, I also had a beautifully painted mockingbird made of paper flying around my room, landing occasionally and pecking with its beak at some crumbs in the corner. Its wings clapped like those of a normal bird when it tried to land on the windowsill. Until suddenly it didn't anymore. Right after I noticed the doors opening, it and the spiders fell onto the floor. My Authority left them like the last breath of air, and they became just folded paper once again, unable to live.

Was it me being a cruel creator? Were they truly alive with souls of their own, or only pretending to be on borrowed power?

"Are you okay?" Sophie asked as she closed the door behind her with one hand, carrying warm tea and some food in a bag in the other.

"You look… thoughtful?"

"I am wondering about the nature of life and death. Nothing serious," I answered, which earned me widening eyes and tightened lips.

"Are you feeling worse all of a sudden?"

"No. It's not my health. I feel fine, despite laying in this forsaken place."

"It's called resting," she said, giving me the tea and sitting on the chair near the bed. She placed the food—some kind of wrap—on the sheet.

"It's called torture. They should just release me already. I am bored out of my mind," I answered and took a sip. It was warm and tasted like boiled leaves.

"This tea is one as well."

"I bought it from a dispenser."

"I would have guessed that by the aroma alone," I answered, smiling, just to make sure she knew it was a joke. But I reached for her arm too, touching it lightly and catching her sight with mine.

"It's fine. Thank you. I am just slightly bitter about having to be here while my healer friends are doing… their own things."

"About that, Zoe is getting more and more worried."

"Still no contact?"

"No. He never reached Quantico, as far as we managed to find out. Or if he did, not under his name or in a big secret."

"What about Parker and Sull? Did you reach out to them?"

"Yes. They said he is undergoing training and will contact them as soon as it is possible."

"So not the usual FBI stuff. I wonder if he knew."

"Pete? He'd tell us if he did."

"You are probably right," I said, taking a bigger sip.

"He never lies, and he was the one that asked for something so you can get to him."

"And he took it off."

"Or it was taken off him," she replied.

"That's what Zoe is thinking?"

"She is sleeping in our apartment in his room. Told her it'd be better that way rather than driving herself into madness all alone."

"Good call."

"I spoke with Nick briefly this morning too."

"Really?" Now my eyes opened wider.

"Yes. He said that they should be getting home soon. Probably next week, if everything goes as planned. But if you need help earlier, Ariana can come alone and help you quicker."

"So it's reversible? My condition?" She wasn't smiling when I asked that, so my smile flattened as well.

"They hope it is. It's a healing soup, so it should heal…"

"But my issue is not about being unhealthy anymore."

"I am sorry, Ali. You came here because I asked you to. It's my fault."

"It was a good call. I'd probably die of gangrene or something while I pretended to be fine and waited for a DoorDash miracle."

"You are making fun of it while I feel like crap."

"Don't. I am not. I will deal with it like I've dealt with every shit life has thrown at me so far. Better tell me how the printing project is going and my other requests."

"Okay then. Container one is on the ocean floor, according to a transponder on it. Container two will be available early next week."

"That's great!" She smiled again.

"Max is picking up the motorcycle you wanted and will park it in the company's garage today."

"We have a garage?"

"Of course we do," she said, but the bike news made her sadder again. I squeezed her hand a bit to sober her up.

"Don't you pity me. Keep going."

"Printed bodies will be ready on Tuesday."

"I can't wait for that. What about Liora?"

"I am letting him out at night, and during the day he is at the apartment. Probably with Zoe right now."

"You're the best."

"I am trying to be. I also contacted Mr. Torque and told him about your ID needs. He said he will have it done by next week."

"How is he?"

"Said that he'd like to speak about his work arrangements at the closest possible time. I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he said that it's not urgent-urgent, whatever that is supposed to mean."

"He meant that his life is not in danger. I will speak with him when I get out."

"So that's pretty much it. I am working on advertising for our company, but since you are out of order, I paused it for a while. Should I be calling Ariana quicker after all?"

"No. I don't think what they can do would help me. I will deal with it my way until Peter gets back."

"His power will work? You sure?"

"Sure? Nah. But I have a better shot with him than with what Lebens can cook. Did you ask the printing company about—""Yes, of course. First thing I did. They said it's not a problem. They will print it extra free of charge too, after they heard what happened."

Day in the story: 10th January (Saturday) I was listening to music of different kinds, thinking of the ways I could ask it to become something it represents. It wasn't as easy as Robbie had when it came to it. Identity wasn't as simple as the manifestation of rhythm, words, or notes. An entire song had to represent a process to become it, and I wasn't really sure how to use that part of my abilities yet, besides the blast I managed to create.

Emotions were a kind of obvious avenue to explore, as they too existed as something that continued and expressed itself through time, and music tended to touch upon this aspect of the human psyche more than the others. Sadness, happiness, love, and betrayal; maybe even fear or courage were the things that came to my mind, but I wasn't really able to check these ideas in the hospital bed, so I just kept on thinking while staring at the empty ceiling.

I'd sent about eight dozen different origami animals into my Domain since I started creating them, half of that being spiders, as I'd learned to make them with my eyes closed. I couldn't wait till they let me out, which, if everything healed properly, would probably be on Monday. I bet they could not wait to bill me for this most expensive hotel in the fucking world, but since I already was here, I would make sure that everything was fine, so I wouldn't be forced to come back ever again.

Knocking on the door made me finally hit pause on my phone.

"Come in." I wondered who thought that I was really in some kind of hotel to announce themselves this way.

"Hi," Peaches whispered. Of course it would be her. I smiled to let her feel welcome in my borrowed humble abode.

"Hello, girl," I told her in a louder voice to let her know that she could speak openly.

"This is not a library or something. You can speak freely."

"I am uncomfortable coming here, but I wanted to visit you. Sophie told me to look for Jessica Hare, though." She came closer slowly, concern on her face as she looked at me.

"Thank you for checking on me. I am trying to avoid the bill with that name." I lied to her.

"Oh, okay. I don't really know what to say either. Didn't really think it through. It's a totally new situation for me."

"Same here," I said in a cheerful tone.

"If you want, you can take a seat in the armchair by the window and I will draw you. I don't have many models to practice on here."

"You'd want that?"

"Yes, of course." I said, opening the drawer close to me and reaching for a sketchbook and pencil inside. She took off her coat and placed it on a hanger and went toward the spot, but stopped suddenly in the middle, raising her hand slightly, then dropping it and continuing her walk.

"What did you want to ask about?" I asked.

"Is that drawing," she lowered her voice to a whisper again, "you know…"

"I know? Nah, I am lost here, girl. What do you mean?"

"Will you be able to summon me to you, like your dragon or something?" she asked, and my jaw dropped.

"You… remember that?" My voice broke a bit.

"It's kind of difficult to forget. The whole night, I mean."

"Not from my experience. Usually people easily forget things like that. There is a force at play that makes it so. Why didn't you speak sooner?"

"It's one of those things that is not easy to talk about. I have no reference as to how to lead that conversation."

"I bet," I said, finally setting the sketchbook and placing the first line.

"No, it won't allow me to teleport you. That works only on artistic creations and Liora, as he is holding part of my magic in him."

"Will that magic help you with your problem?"

"This?" I asked, removing the cover that was over my legs. She nodded once, slowly.

"I hope so, but even if it doesn't, I will be fine."

"Really? I assumed you'd be more sad about having your leg amputated below the knee."

"It is what it is, Peaches. I will deal with this."