Daisy cried silently, her vision blurred by tears. She gulped down lungfuls of cold oxygen from the mask over her mouth and nose, only distantly aware of the medics bunched around her. The voices were an incomprehensible gabble, as meaningful to her as geese squawking.
Mostly she was aware of pain--the pain of her spinal cord healing, nerves reconnecting. They were stabbing pains, increasingly frequent and exquisitely sharp, too irregular to anticipate. Every jolt was unexpected and the more she tensed up, the more it hurt. The vicious cycle spiraled out of control until she was screaming. After some indefinate time Daisy felt a prick in her arm, something cold flowing into her vein, then nothing.
* * * *
Daisy woke with a terrible thirst and a mouth so dry she felt that if she tried to drink, the liquid would roll off her tongue without effect. She was back in her bed in the hospital room. She groped for a plastic tumbler of water on the bedside table. Her fingers were clumsy, but she managed to retrieve it. Lukewarm water had never tasted so good.
She emptied the glass through the flexible straw, refilled it from a small pitcher on the table, and emptied it again. It occurred to her belatedly that the water might be drugged. Daisy hesitated for a moment, then continued drinking. If they wanted to drug her, there wasn't much she could do about it.
When her thirst had momentarily abated, Daisy looked around. (Maybe it isn't the same room,) she thought. There was no sign of blood or bullet holes in the wall to her left, nor even evidence of recent cleaning or patching.
Dr. Mengele had clearly intended to convince Rose that he'd killed her. He was a real bastard. Unfortunately, he was a bastard who knew far too much; he'd also clearly known that he hadn't really killed her. So perhaps they'd moved her so there was less chance of Rose learning the truth.
(Or he was pretty sure he wouldn't really kill me,) Daisy thought, (and just didn't give a damn whether it was true or not.) But odds are that she was still in the same facility, just in a different room. Maybe a different wing. So maybe the facility wasn't all that large. Which meant a relatively small staff.
Daisy was aware that she was operating from far too many assumptions, but it was the best she could do at the moment. She poured herself some more water and sipped it. There was nothing she could do now except watch and wait. An opportunity to act would present itself eventually. Maybe not a good chance, but something.
The sound of a bolt turning caught Daisy's attention. She looked toward the door as it swung open.
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timeasmymeasure
[Daisy] Science Fair Exhibit
Date: 2006-07-03 03:58 am (UTC)Mostly she was aware of pain--the pain of her spinal cord healing, nerves reconnecting. They were stabbing pains, increasingly frequent and exquisitely sharp, too irregular to anticipate. Every jolt was unexpected and the more she tensed up, the more it hurt. The vicious cycle spiraled out of control until she was screaming. After some indefinate time Daisy felt a prick in her arm, something cold flowing into her vein, then nothing.
* * * *
Daisy woke with a terrible thirst and a mouth so dry she felt that if she tried to drink, the liquid would roll off her tongue without effect. She was back in her bed in the hospital room. She groped for a plastic tumbler of water on the bedside table. Her fingers were clumsy, but she managed to retrieve it. Lukewarm water had never tasted so good.
She emptied the glass through the flexible straw, refilled it from a small pitcher on the table, and emptied it again. It occurred to her belatedly that the water might be drugged. Daisy hesitated for a moment, then continued drinking. If they wanted to drug her, there wasn't much she could do about it.
When her thirst had momentarily abated, Daisy looked around. (Maybe it isn't the same room,) she thought. There was no sign of blood or bullet holes in the wall to her left, nor even evidence of recent cleaning or patching.
Dr. Mengele had clearly intended to convince Rose that he'd killed her. He was a real bastard. Unfortunately, he was a bastard who knew far too much; he'd also clearly known that he hadn't really killed her. So perhaps they'd moved her so there was less chance of Rose learning the truth.
(Or he was pretty sure he wouldn't really kill me,) Daisy thought, (and just didn't give a damn whether it was true or not.) But odds are that she was still in the same facility, just in a different room. Maybe a different wing. So maybe the facility wasn't all that large. Which meant a relatively small staff.
Daisy was aware that she was operating from far too many assumptions, but it was the best she could do at the moment. She poured herself some more water and sipped it. There was nothing she could do now except watch and wait. An opportunity to act would present itself eventually. Maybe not a good chance, but something.
The sound of a bolt turning caught Daisy's attention. She looked toward the door as it swung open.