「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(210) You Said Charles

Lynn's POV

My brave facade was undeniably one Charles could see through.

He knew me better than any face I could ever put, he read me easily just like any other book, and sometimes, he understood me deeper than even I would.

Surely, it was a charade, but one driven by goodwill.

Every piece of me longed for his presence, yet one rationalized the significance of his assistance. Charles himself comprehended the importance of his intervention, and even when he recognized my fears, he complied to do what we both thought was required.

The moment Jean replaced that dreadful mask, I shut my eyes, yearning to distract myself from the fact that Charles was leaving my side. I smiled, relentlessly trying to contain the conditioned tremble of my body with the resounding noises of explosions, crumbling entirely once the vault doors swished close.

My body had been exhausted from the frigid trauma, yet it fidgeted seemingly tirelessly as I desperately endeavored to get some sleep amidst the violent rattlings. With each rampageous roar, my top flinched in reflex, inviting drafts of cool air to seep underneath the covers even if lifted so much as an inch. The biting chills only aggravated my discomfort, cruelly deeming every position possible an unpleasant one.

With my inanimate legs immovable and my mutilated arm clamped down, there was nothing much I could do about the sores building up in my back besides cringing and blurting occasional distressed moans. As the aches grew progressively irritating, the mundane rolling mechanism echoed faintly into the area and a pair of heels clicked along, ceasing near my horizontal platform.

A slim figure stood by my bedside, silhouetted in the dark despite a couple of rays leaking from the underground corridors but could be readily perceived nonetheless.

"Jean? Why are you back?" I muttered as I frowned in disorientation.

"What are you doing?" I prodded shakily, shivering uncontrollably as she swiftly whipped off the covers from me.

"Charles wanted you to have this," Jean replied nonchalantly and through my obscured view in the poorly illuminated chamber, I saw her sliding up the hospital gown from my legs.

Carefully planting a needle into the upper section of my right thigh, Jean meticulously injected an apparently transparent substance into my system. Almost instantly, I was struck with a drowsy sensation that weighted my eyelids like a pair of heavy curtains and they fell irresistibly before I could experience the warmth of the quilt again.

"Lynn? Lynn!" Jean called repeatedly with increasing frequencies as I was still enveloped by blackness. 

Waking yet again to the dull throbbing and her unexpected erratic beckoning, I stirred slightly under the cocoon of a soft duvet, grunting automatically as my rigid spine burned awfully with the natural symptoms of paraplegia.

"Lynn, can you hear me?" Jean probed as I struggled to flutter my eyes open.

"Loud and clear, young lady," I teased, smiling weakly as I regained sight of her.

"Can you tell me how you feel?" Jean enquired professionally as she towered over me.

"Cold. Stiff," I described concisely, attempting to flex my back muscles in a manner of least disruption to the rest my body.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Jean investigated, conscientiously cranking the adjustable bed to incline the top segment for me to rest in a half sitting posture.

"What do you mean?" I clarified curiously as I surveyed her excessively worried face.

"You were sedated, Lynn," Jean revealed in a grave tone.