Transformed Chapter OneA Chapter by Tabitha M.She was numb. The gaping wounds didn’t throb. The antiseptic didn’t sting. She thinks the nurse said something about stitches, but her ears feel like they’re full of cotton. Someone was trying to get her attention, but she couldn’t focus. A light blinds her left eye, then the right. She still can't focus. Too much noise. Too many people. She doesn't even remember how she got here. But the doctor is persistent. He puts his hand on her cheek, and makes her look at him. She can feel his warmth through the latex. He speaks to her gently, making her eyes lock on his. His voice anchors her, lessens the blur of the world. "I know this is all very scary," he says slowly, "but I need to know your name. Can you tell me?" She's silent a moment, trying to gain control over her whirring thoughts. She licks her dry, cracked lips and tastes blood. "Larissa," she said with a scratchy voice. "Larissa Mange." He gave her an encouraging smile with perfect teeth that nearly blinded her. She had to tilt her head up a bit to get a better view of his face. His hair was short and neat, a light brown that matched his eyes, which sat behind black rimmed glasses. His skin was on the pale side, probably from long days spent in the hospital instead of the sun. There were faint lines beginning to form around his eyes and the corners of his lips, but those were the only signs of aging he showed. He wasn't bad looking she decided with her eyes scanning his sharp, bare jaw line. He wore light blue scrubs under a white coat with a stethoscope tucked neatly under the collar. A name tag was pinned securely to his right breast pocket. She couldn't read it though. Her brain wouldn't make sense of the jumbled letters. "Nice to meet you, Larissa. Wish it could be under better conditions, but we gotta take what we can get. Do you know what happened?" Her thoughts whir again. Images flash, but nothing made sense. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "No. Everything is blurry." "That's fine. We'll worry about that after we fix you up." He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, checking what she assumed was a cut around her eyebrow. His movement made her curious as to what her own appearance looked like. When he moved back to do something else, she looked down at herself. Her dark brown hair hung to her elbows in a tangled mess. She was already in a pale green hospital gown, even though she didn't remember changing. Her skin was streaked with dirt and grime….and blood. She cast a glance at the wounds on her arms, and faintly wondered why they didn't hurt…or why she didn't care. She kicked her legs up a little to get a look at them. She couldn't tell where the actual injury was because of all the dried blood, or if there even was one. Maybe that blood had dripped from her arm, or maybe it didn't even belong to her. "I don't think there's any serious damage,” he said interrupting her scrutiny. “You have few bad lacerations that will need stitches. No broken bones." Her only response was a nod before she lost focus again. Distantly, she felt a needle and suture bring the shredded edges of the skin on her arm back together. She didn’t watch the procedure. Her mind wondered on other things ,like trying to remember how she wound up here. She had felt odd all day, she remembered that. Almost as if a part of her was missing. No. Not missing…broken. "Yesterday was my birthday," Larissa said faintly, remembering a red velvet cupcake with a candle. "I'm eighteen." The doctor looked up from her arm. "Happy late birthday," he said with a smile before asking, "What did you do for your birthday?" His eyebrows raise in a way that makes her think that he assumed she'd been partying. Had she? She couldn't even remember if she liked to party. Her brows furrowed in thought. "I can't remember." He orders a Serum drug screen and continues working on her arm. She heard a nurse question his order, asking if he wouldn't rather have a urine sample. But he said no, to run the blood. She nodded tightly and went on her way. Larissa turns introvert once more, vaguely remembering school. It was her last day. She was dropping out. Too many bullies , too much drama, and not enough shoulders to cry on. She barely notices when a woman draws her blood into a tube and disappears. She didn't remember feeling the needle enter her arm, but watched as her blood filled the tube, wondering if it held any secrets. She remembers packing a bag. She was planning on leaving and never coming back. She sits up straight, causing the doctor to tug unexpectedly on her skin. "I was running away. That's what I did for my birthday. I was free." "What do you mean?" He pauses his stitching, turning his attention to her. "Are you in trouble?" "No, nothing like that," she says with a small smile. "I was leaving my foster parents." "Can we contact them?" he asked. "They may know what happened." She shakes her head vigorously. "No. Don't. They're not good people." He looked conflicted. "Alright," he said unwillingly as he picked up his needle. She goes back to replaying her day, but she can't remember much after that. She was walking, the sun was setting. The images blur together and she can't recognize any of them. Flashes of red, a high pitch scream, glowing eyes. Frustration grows in the pit of her stomach and she balls her hands into a fist. “I don't think these cuts were made by a blade," the doctor states as he positioned her so he can reach her leg better. "They look like claw marks almost. Kind of big though. Did an animal attack you?" She clenches her teeth, trying again to replay the broken memory. "I can't remember," she says, her irritation clear in her voice. "I can almost see it...but, ugh! Everything blurred together!" "Relax, Larissa," he says soothingly. "You probably hit your head at some point, probably have a concussion. You might remember tomorrow. We're keeping you over night. We won't worry about an animal attack. Chances are highly unlikely for wounds this size. Especially in town." She grumbles unhappily. Not about the hospital stay, but about her head. It wasn't cooperating. She didn't mind hospitals. They were safe.
~*~
She was in her own room, hooked up to an IV that was steadily feeding her pain medication and antibiotics to ward off infection. She wasn't too happy about having them in, because it was fogging up her brain even more. She kept fighting to push the fog away and remember what happened to her, but the fight didn't last long. The beeping of the monitor and the pain medicine won and she soon faded into unconsciousness. A nurse woke her up some time later to ask her the year, her date of birth, her name, and where she was. The nurse was very average looking. She was short with bleach blonde hair and dark blue scrubs. The only reason Larissa took note was to glance at the clock behind her, which read 12:13, but she didn't know if it was morning or afternoon because the curtains were closed. Larissa answered, thinking the questions were silly, but her responses seemed to please the nurse since she smiled and walked out of the room, leaving Larissa to sleep more. Which she did for two more fitful hours until the nurse returned to wake her again, this time the doctor was with her. The nurse repeated the same questions and Larissa answered correctly. "How are you feeling?" the doctor asked, giving her a gleaming smile as he checked her bandages and monitors. He marked something on her chart. "Tired," she answered, her longing for more sleep evident in her voice. He chuckled his agreement. "Do you remember anything yet?" She closed her eyes as she thought. She shifted through her memories, but hit the fog again. "No," she said shaking her head. "Still all a blur." The doctor nodded and patted her arm gently. "Let us know if you do. Now, go back to sleep." She did so happily, letting the fog take over her exhausted mind. She woke again, but not by a gentle shaking from a nurse. She was being moved! After blinking a few times to clear her vision, she realized she was in a wheelchair. "What's going on?" she asked groggily. "We're just moving you to another room." She recognized her doctor's voice behind her, but it wasn't the gentle tone he had used before. He sounded rushed. She tried to turn her head to look at him, but stopped when a sharp pain pulsed in the back of her neck. "Ouch," she whined, putting a hand where it hurt. "Nurse, give her a shot of Demerol," he commanded, almost harshly. "Yes, doctor," the nurse said rushing from Larissa's right to push the medicine into the IV line that hung somewhere to the left above her head. Something about this didn't feel right, but just as Larissa started to panic, her world turned black. © 2015 Tabitha M.Author's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
343 Views
2 Reviews Added on January 24, 2015 Last Updated on January 24, 2015 Author
|