𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭

(𝐢𝐢𝐢)

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ ＴＨＲＥＥ
𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦

༺༻

She couldn't remember the last time she had been in a hospital. Every time she got injured, she took care of it herself. It was second nature by now, patching herself up and gritting through the pain. Her father had drilled that into her since she was little. Hospitals asked too many questions— questions she couldn’t afford to answer.

The memory of the first time she truly needed medical attention resurfaced like an unwelcome ghost. She had been arguing with her father, and things got out of hand. The crack of her arm breaking still echoed in her mind. He didn’t apologize; he never did. Instead, he had told her it would make her stronger. Pain can either destroy you or make you stronger, he said to her, his voice harsh but steady, as if he was doing her a favor. She had learned that night to deal with it, to take the pain in silence.

Nobody can help you. Only you can help yourself, he would say, over and over again. That was rule number one; never ask for help, no matter how bad the situation is.

Odessa stirred, her eyelids fluttering as she was pulled from unconsciousness by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. For a moment, disorientation clung to her, but then the previous night came rushing back in vivid flashes— the crash, the blood, the darkness swallowing her whole. She knew where she was now, and she hated it. The hospital's cold, artificial atmosphere was nothing like the dusty motels or rundown safehouses she was used to.

She groaned softly, turning her head toward the door just as it opened. Sam Winchester stepped in, his face etched with concern.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Odessa's lips, though it barely reached her eyes. Sam was a welcome sight, but the knot of dread in her stomach refused to loosen.

"Thank God you're awake," Sam said as he pulled a chair over to her bedside, the legs scraping softly against the linoleum floor. He sat down, eyes scanning her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was stabbed multiple times," she muttered, wincing as she attempted to sit up. Pain shot through her body, making her dizzy, but Sam was quick to reach out, his hands gentle as he helped prop her up. He adjusted her pillows, his movements careful, as if afraid to hurt her further.

Odessa took a deep breath as she settled back into the bed, her head spinning from the lingering pain. The sterile smell of disinfectant and antiseptic filled her nostrils, sharp and unpleasant. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside her was oddly calming, but the bright overhead lights and the cold, clinical feel of the hospital room made her uncomfortable. She hated hospitals. They were places of weakness, places that brought back too many memories she tried to forget.