On the Run

Recovery

CW/TW: Hospitals, post-operation depression, sickness, the reader isn't doing great and it can be triggering for anyone who reads. Please proceed with caution.

Your eyelid cracks open, your eyes burning in pain. Your chest constricts, fog murking up your mask. Your throat feels painfully dry and sore, as if you swallowed sand. This time, no panic floods through you. All you feel is your leaden limbs and pure exhaustion.

You felt like pure shit.

You strain to turn your head, feeling satin under your fingers. Your hand raises, and you see a black bonnet, belonging to your best friend. Your hand falls, patting her hair.

"Ma ... ya," your voice scratches, vocal cords fried.

She doesn't stir, soft snores growing louder. From your position and the glint of the morning sun, you see the exhaustion on your friend's face. Dark circles marred her skin, aging her. Her skin seemed ashen, as if there was no blood coursing through her face. Dried tear tracks ran down her cheeks.

You struggled again, getting close enough to poke her cheek. Her nose twitches, and she bats at her face. You huff quietly at her behavior.

Soon, she finally awakens, yawning loudly. She smacks her lips, glancing at you. She does a double take, staring into your half-lidded eyes and exhausted expression. Immediately, she burst into sobs, burying her head gently into your chest. Heart-wrenching, body-trembling sobs come from her, wetting the thin hospital gown and soaking your chest. But you say nothing, looking up at the pale ceiling.

...

"We still need to run more tests of course. We have to be thorough about your healing."

You nod, eyes half-lidded. The ever-present exhaustion appeared again, dragging you down. It felt like time slowed around you as your eyes closed, the faint murmuring of Dr.Ramirez lulling you back to sleep.

She was reviewing your treatment plan for when you went back home. You would be transported to a special facility in Houston, which would help with your healing process. They were famous for being the best healers in the world, and Dr.Ramirez herself promised to oversee your recovery.

All you wanted was to sleep.

"We will however prescribe mandatory iron supplements."

Your brows furrow, scrunching together. Your confusion is palpable.

"Due to the inconsistency of your iron supplements and the progression of your anemia, your recovery depends on this."

Your eyes close, admitting ignoring the world around you. You already know Maya is either glaring daggers at you or sending you looks of pure despair. You cannot stand either.

You were not going to escape the lecture later.

Dr.Ramirez continues to rattle off prescriptions and medicines, reviewing your treatment plan and discharge forms.

You barely lift your hand to sign your documents, and you're released.

...

The day you're discharged from the hospital, you feel Maya's burning eyes as she wheels toward the hospital transport car. Inside, suitcases and duffel bags fill the back seat.

"What are all these extra bags for?" you ask, voice severely hoarse and raspy. You weren't supposed to be talking too much, but you couldn't help your confusion.

"I'm staying with you for a few days."

"What? You don't have to do that. I'll be fine."

"No the hell you won't. Did you hear what the doctor said? You haven't been taking your meds for your anemia and your heart almost failed. And I already know damn well that you haven't been sleeping right. I know you."