confusifying | wicked | book 3/3

Nessa

The hospital is giant, glossy and green.
The ceiling stretches high up into the sky and a beautiful mosaic of clouds and birds is covering it.
It's a pity that I've been laid on my back as I'd like to take in the spectacle of the room.
Though as grand and pristine as the room that I'm in looks, I hate that it's so big and that every time I begin to cough the sound rolls off the walls and echos like I'm in a storm.
It's most unsettling.
Though nothing about being left alone in a large shiny room with tall ceilings is particularly settling.
It's quite unnerving how acutely aware I am of being alone is this room, I can only see a small patch of ceiling but the room echoes so much that I can sense my loneliness due to the lack of a second lot of breathing.

I've been told by Doctor Tip that the room I'm in is the operating theatre, and that soon I'm going to be out to sleep so that a surgeon can sew up the gash that I made on my abdomen.
Then, I'll be taken back to my room in the emerald palace, be forced to stay in bed for two weeks and then I can get up.
Tip phrased it like she was giving me a new lease of life but to tell the truth a voice in my head is hoping that the anaesthesiologist gives me the wrong dose and I'm plunged into an eternal slumber.
At this current moment in time, I wouldn't mind that.
I don't want to be here, alive, so sleeping forever doesn't actually seem all that bad.

Truly the most important thing that I must focus on is my family and the whole of Oz who are eagerly awaiting my reappearance.
I'm not sure I can face the citizens of Oz, not after I tried so hard to remove myself as their queen.
I'd rather stay in bed forever that cart myself around in my chair, pretending that Oz is some beautiful place where everyone who is different is valued.
Oz is a vile and prejudice place and pretending that it isn't makes me question my morals.
Everyone is so quick to ask if I need doorways remade to better suit my chair or if I'd like to have staff waiting on me every hour of every day.
Those adaptions take effort but it wouldn't have taken anything at all for Oz to have been kind to my sister regardless of her skin color.
If people would have just been tolerant of Elphaba then I wouldn't have been in this position, I probably wouldn't have even been born either.

It's only now, after being left alone for at least half an hour, that I've started to realise just how uncomfortable this bed is.
It's not even a bed, it's an operating table made from a large green slate because Oz forbid that anything in this blasted city isn't blindingly green.
The sound of clicking heels against the hard floor catches my attention, I hear them tapping towards me and I hold my breath, nervously awaiting whoever it is to approach me.
"Ma'am?"
I let out a sigh of relief as marigold calls out towards me.
"Are you comfortable?" She asks gently, her voice putting me at ease.
Swallowing hard, I croak out my answer.
"I could do with a pillow." I chuckle dryly.
Marigold moves into my view, her kind face eclipsing a portion of the ceiling mosaic.
"You're lucky Ma'am." Marigold whispers, "I've already brought one for you."

Gently, marigold lifts my head and places a pillow underneath it, her hands are surprisingly cold and send a chill down my spine.
"I've been instructed to calm you down incase you have any worries."
I sigh at marigolds honesty, because to tell the truth; I'm terrified.
I hate hospitals and I don't want to do this, I don't want any of this.
"How long is the surgery going to last?" I question, not that it would really have that much effect on me because I'd be unconscious either way.
"Two hours if all goes well." Marigold responds cheerfully, she then lowers her voice and changes to a far more serious tone "though it could go up to five if we have any complications."
I nod my head and listed to the soft creak of my pillow as my head moves.
"When you wake up you'll be back in the palace." Marigold comments, "then Tip said two weeks of bed red I believe."

I'm not to sure of what Tip said because quite frankly it's all the same to me, bed rest is bed rest and it's all insufferable.
"I'll call in doctor Tip in a few minutes so you can be out of here as soon as possible." Marigold whispers "I'm sure everything is going to be just fine."
I wasn't particularly worried that it wasn't going to be- now I am.
I've been truly unsettled by that.
"Do you know how scared I am?" I whisper, it's not really a question but I seem to phrase it as such.
Marigold pats me tenderly on the shoulder and looks away from me for a moment, seemingly to stop me from seeing her cry.

"I wish you hadn't done what you did." She whispers sadly, "but it's too late now so you have to do this."
I don't reply, I don't feel guilty for trying to end my life because I still wish it worked.
"I'm sorry we weren't there with you my little chick but we're here now." Marigold continues "you'll wake up back in the palace like nothing has happened."
The old woman reassures me, I'm not entirely convinced that it's going to be that simple; it never is.
Nothing could possibly get worse so at this moment in time I don't care what happens, it's not stopping me from feeling absolutely terrified though.