False God | Quinn Hughes & Jack Hughes

Chapter Four

June 1, 2023

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic hum of machines, the rustling of papers, and the doctor's voice, calm but thorough. Carter listened, nodding along, though everything still felt a bit surreal.

"Alright, Carter," the doctor began, adjusting his glasses as he scanned her chart one last time, "you've been doing well with your physical recovery so far, but there are still things we need to be cautious about."

She nodded, still feeling a bit dazed, her ribs aching with every movement.

"You'll need to avoid heavy lifting or any strenuous activity. I'll prescribe a lower dosage of pain medication to take at home—these should help with the discomfort, but don't hesitate to call us if anything feels off."

"Got it," Carter murmured, her voice hoarse from months of silence.

The doctor smiled, his expression gentle but professional. "Your parents are outside finishing the paperwork. Once they're done, we'll get you into a wheelchair, and you'll be on your way home."

Carter nodded again, not quite able to comprehend the idea of home yet.

As the doctor closed her chart, he looked at her with an almost fatherly concern. "Remember, if you start to feel anxious or overwhelmed, that's normal. Just take things one step at a time. Your body—and mind—have been through a lot."

A shiver ran down her spine, but she managed a small nod.
When her parents returned a few minutes later, her mom looked at her with a smile that was fragile, as if it might shatter at any moment. "Ready to go, sweetie?"

Carter forced a smile, even though a knot of anxiety had formed in her stomach. "Yeah... ready."

A nurse arrived with a wheelchair, adjusting the footrests for Carter's comfort. Her father stepped forward, hands outstretched as if to catch her if she stumbled, though she was seated. "You good?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Carter whispered, looking down. The thought of moving through a world beyond the small space of her hospital room felt overwhelming. Still, she steadied her nerves and allowed the nurse to roll her forward, out into the bustling hallways of the hospital.

The bright fluorescent lights glared down at her, a stark contrast to the dim room she'd just left. As they moved through the corridors, Carter took in the faces of strangers, some tired, some laughing, others with eyes red from tears.
It felt strange—almost like she was a ghost, drifting through lives she no longer knew how to connect with.

Each face seemed new, yet painfully familiar in the way they contrasted with the darkness she'd known for so long. A nurse walked past, glancing down at her with a kind smile, while a family gathered outside a waiting room door, deep in conversation.

Her father's voice broke her trance. "You alright, honey?"
She blinked, looking up at him. "Yeah, I just... I forgot what it was like to be around people."

Her mother's eyes filled with tears as she gave Carter's hand a squeeze. "You're doing great," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

As they reached the main entrance, Carter saw people hurrying in and out, their lives moving on in ways she couldn't fully grasp yet. She caught her reflection in a glass panel by the entrance. Her face was thinner, her hair limp, with dark shadows under her eyes.