A lady is staring at me when I open my eyes. She wastes no time and turns around right away. "Oh, George, George, wake up! Abby just opened her eyes!"

There is a small heave before a man looms over me, blocking the window. He is wheezing and smiling, his yellow teeth hidden behind a scraggly gray beard. "Looks like you still get to be a mother for another few years, Buttercup," he joked before leaning down and patting my arm gently. "Glad you finally woke, Alex."

I blink as the woman pouts petulantly. "Her name's Abby, or are you going senile, too?" And then the man says something like "I don't care", but I don't remember because my head starts to ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump against the pillow. I touch my head, and I regret doing it because the pain's all over the place now, instead of being in just one spot.

The woman jumps when I shriek and shoves my fingers away. "Oh, you poor thing, you. I should've told you earlier, before you went touched everything." She keeps talking, even as she tucks my covers in and takes out her purse and rustles around in it. The lady finds what she's looking for and holds it up. "See, darling? You've got a small boo-boo on your forehead." And then she points in the mirror at where my head is. It is wrapped in white bandages, and it feels tight, suffocating. "But nothing to worry about. Doctor fixed you all up like a doll, and he said you should be fine now."

I try to smile back at her, but the mouth is too tired. And so are the eyes. Drooping and fluttering, the eyelids stick to each other whenever I blink, and the woman finally closes them for me. Then my heart starts to get tired, too, so I let it slow down. And then my mind is tired, so I keep on doing and not thinking, and the last thing I hear is the man saying, "Let her alone now, Buttercup…."


A/N: Please don't think I've suddenly gone retarded via sentence structure on you. This is an experiment fiction, and each chapter is short or long, depending on my mood. I promised that Quattrocentista would be updated, but it's hard to do so when your uncle has just died. I promise to update it some time in the future. But just... not now.