Enmeshed | Hank x Y/N

Enmeshed 12 - Old Habits Die Hard / Nothing But A Murderer

TW:// Explicit injury , Mild tropophobia, Heavy Angst

You slipped in-and-out of consciousness as you slept. Welcomed by the all too familiar ceiling and the sounds of medical machinery. This time, some loud arguing could be heard as well. You were too groggy to make out what it was about, but could tell most of the raised voices were Doc's before falling asleep again.

After what felt like an eternity of constantly blacking in and out, you finally regained consciousness.

It was dark and quiet. The machinery's been long off and it seemed you were alone in the lab. 

You tried to turn your head but were instantly reminded of the damage sustained below. Your throat felt like someone stomped on it. Each time you tried to swallow or make any micro movement it hurt like hell.

Slowly, you brought your hand to feel around the neck. It was bandaged all over, aside from one spot. The hole.

You instantly jerked your hand away from the spot. ...FUCK! It's still here! 

Only now did you realize you've been breathing through it the whole time. The cold air from the lab flowing directly through it. Your upper airways remaining completely idle. 

A certain form of fear and disgust flood over you. Tropophobia perhaps. 

You wish it was just another one of your weird dreams, but the longer you felt the exposed airway the more repulsive reality felt.

Not far off you, you spot a mirror above a rusty, blood stained sink. To be honest you didn't know if you wanted to see yourself.

Compared to your prior 'awakenings', this was certainly the worst. 

You braced yourself and raised your upper body from the medical table. As you did, you sensed a great strain on the muscles around your neck, as if encumbered by something heavy. 

While still in a light daze, cold and nauseous from being under the anesthetic, you manage to get up and limp towards the mirror and set one hand on the sink to support yourself. As you gradually raise your head, first thing you notice is purple bruising around your chin and collarbone. ...was probably left by Sanford back there...

Your hand was still in front of your neck. Covering the spot in the mirror. Still unsure if you wanted to see all of it.

You gulp down and decide to try and breathe through your nose instead. 

At a snail's pace, you open your palm and slowly cover the spot shut. You then raise your gaze to face your reflection and try to draw a breath.

There was a narrow stream of air, trying to crawl down through the mangled airway. The sensation giving you flashbacks to when you laid under that damned desk, fighting for your life.

You try to inhale harder and clench your palm around the spot. The surface on the inside of your palm started to get drawn inwards the hole as you stressed the lungs to suck in the air but to no avail.

I... I can't!

Defeated, you collapse on the knees and cough profusely. Tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

'I wouldn't try that yet.' Doc mentions as he approaches you from the side. 

He kneels down to your level and puts his hand around your shoulders, the other grabs yours away from the spot. 

Repulsed by yourself, you clench your eyes shut and turn your head away.

'I had to leave it there until all of the swelling goes away. It should be easier for you tomorrow'