From the very start, their autonomy was violently stripped bare. They were taken and held down and beaten to submission-enslaved and collared and owned. Years upon years drag, time wasted in the confinement of normalized abuse. They solemnly accepte...
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The car windows are rolled up, the air becoming much colder as the car sped up on the highway. The sky is covered with fluffy clouds that either promised a calm day or threatened a storm later tonight.
Either way, it was a beautiful sight, one that Eclipse appreciates. It warms their heart to be out, at long last. To not be pocked with needles or have to be screened with buzzy machines.
No more hands to prod and touch them, no more masked nurses that check on them relentlessly.
They kick their feet lightly, thinking about the appointment they have today. The last step, metaphorically, to their recovery. They have made it this far.
Their heart pounds with emotions too raw for them to handle explaining, but they know they aren't afraid.
For once, they look forward to a hospital visit.
You exit the highway and U-turn into a semi-familiar place, one with a big memorial on a building that Eclipse remembered from the times you drove through these streets. It meant the hospital they regularly visited was just down the road to the right.
They mentally cheered when they were proven right, watching with anticipation as you pulled and parked the car as close to the front doors as possible. Shorting the distance for their sake.
The building no longer felt like it was looming over them, they note, even with their understanding that not every hospital visit is a happy one. Still, this day was special for many reasons, and they took your hand in theirs so they wouldn't vibrate out of their own body because of all the excitement.
You lead them up to the front doors, patiently waiting as they pause to slowly walk up the small steps of stairs, their muscles flaring momentarily (walking up the stairs is certainly different than walking down. It hurts a bit more).
Last time they have been in these halls, they were using their crutch to walk with a newly installed prosthesis that they had so many different thoughts on.
They remember the struggle, the conflict, the pain. But with all that, they also remember the hope, the determination, the restrained but still shining joy.
They remember the nights they spent awake. They remember when they'd accepted your comfort with a hesitant heart.
It felt like it's been forever, the first time they have been here. Drenched in dirty river water and shivering, unsure what will happen to them next. The memory is hazy, but the emotions with it are clear. Terror mixed with hopeless acceptance—acceptance that their life will always be a huge mess that will never clear up.
The blended feelings of craving a touch that doesn't hurt with the rational fear that no one will offer anything without a price...
Numbness had coated most of their judgment, helping them tackle down the fear of something inevitable.
