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╰┈➤❝ [but the cracks in my consciousness have swallowed up my pictures of the past, and all i am left with is a collection of unfinished stories.] ❞ ╰┈➤ eliza grant
HER THROAT BURNED AND HER HEAD ACHED. The nurse looked down on her in pity. She hated it, being thought of as pitiful. Hated being seen as this helpless victim. "Has Alfred Pennyworth woken up yet?" She asked the nurse, her voice raspy and broken from her injuries. It hurt to speak, but it was getting easier. Grabbing the glass of water on her desk, she took a needed gulp in a vain attempt to soothe the burn. The nurse slowly nodded, her attention on the woman's vitals. "Can I see him?"
"I'll walk you over in a minute. You've gotta have clearance to go in."
"Why?"
"After the whole news thing about the Waynes, we thought it best to have a guard outside his and your rooms." The nurse offered a small smile as she finished writing down the information in Siobhan's chart. Setting the chart in the tray outside of the door, she returned and offered her arm for the woman to lean against. "I have to say, to have survived not one, but two Riddler attacks. That's something to brag about. Clearly someone upstairs is looking out for you." The nurse walked with Siobhan down the hall towards the other hospital room. A police officer sat outside the room, reading a book. His gaze moved up to them, a friendly smile growing on his lips as he waved at them both.
The nurse opened the door, letting Siobhan inside and telling her that she'd be back in ten minutes to check on them. Siobhan took a seat next to the bed, dragging her IV pole with her. A small frown on her lips as she took in the man's state. His eyes barely opened at the presence. Opening them wider, he frowned at her state. She simply shook her head, silently telling him not to ask. But his curiosity was great. His gaze couldn't be torn away from the deep blue bruising around her neck, the red taking over her eyes.
Grabbing the remote, she clicked on the television. The news played a story of her miraculous luck, how she'd survived two Riddler attacks and how her parents hadn't. Alfred looked back to her, a sympathetic frown on his lips. His heart broke for her. He'd already seen Bruce orphaned and now he had to watch Siobhan go through the same thing. Though, he had to admit that he'd never been fond of Gerald Dumont. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his hand reaching out to gently hold hers, "you didn't deserve that."
Her eyes shut as she forced back her tears. It felt like a small weight had been lifted from her. To hear that she wasn't a bad person, that this wasn't some divine punishment for some unknown crime. Alfred's word felt like gospel to her, and she was ready to kneel at an altar and beg for forgiveness. Anything for this absolution she craved. "Y'know... lately I..." she started with a deep frown, gently squeezing his hand. "I feel like I'm in a burning house and instead of running out... I'm just locking the door." She winced at the example as it left her lips, realizing that may not have been the most appropriate example to use. But his expression held no judgement. No ironic chuckle. Just a sympathetic ear for someone who'd never had that in their life. "I don't know where to go from here. I mean, the evidence of my childhood, my personhood, my... my existence is just... gone." She stared over at their intertwined fingers and felt a mourning for her childhood. The jealousy she'd felt for Bruce's ability to grow up with such loving parental figures began to resurface. She thought about if she'd had an Alfred in her life that she could run to. An adult that helped guide her into her own adulthood. "I just feel like a big kid sometimes. Like I wasn't ready to grow up so I didn't. And it's starting to bite me in the ass."
