White Thorn | On Hold

Chapter Seven: Defence

Arya knew something was wrong the instant she woke up.

The sheets beneath her were stiff, the smell of industrialised cleaner invading her nose as her eyes opened hesitantly. She wasn't in the nurses office anymore, that was for sure, and she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly why. A single glance at her arms and legs confirmed it. "Not again," she sighed, shoulders sinking as she spotted the dried blood which'd seeped through the stiff white rolls of fabric.

"So this has happened before?" Startlingly grey eyes stared at her from one side of the bed.

Arya screamed. "Who're you?!" She yelled, shuffling back, stiffening as a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Ease up, kiddo, we aren't here to hurt you."

"Flint, let me handle this," the first spoke, running a hand through his inky locks—evidently exasperated with the blonde's antics. "Take a look around." His attention snapped back to Arya in a heartbeat. "Guess."

"Hospital?"

He nodded.

"Doctor?"

"Of sorts," he smiled. "I'm Rian, and that idiot behind you is Flint. We're the ones in charge of Riverdale Hospital... though thankfully we don't get too many visitors..."

"Do you seriously have to introduce me as an idiot?"

"Yes, now go and finish writing up that report I told you to. I've got things handled here," he said, glaring at him until he shuffled away. "Now, back to the matter at hand, I suppose..."

Arya bit her lip. "Do we really have to go there?" she asked. "I mean, I'm fine now." She sat up, wincing slightly at the pounding in her head. She'd expected that much, though. It was always like that after she woke up from one of those dreams.

Her hopes of escape were soon dashed though, thanks to the arm that snaked in front of her—gently pushing her back down. "You lost a lot of blood."

"I'll be fine."

One eyebrow quirked. "Speaking from experience, are we?"

"Maybe," she muttered.

He was sharp, and Arya didn't like that. She didn't like it one bit. She already knew what his next questions would be, and they weren't ones she wanted to answer—not truthfully, at least.

Not when it came to anything relating to that.

The mere thought of something about it sent shivers down her spine—her mind dredging up all the images she wanted to forget, giving her a splitting headache while she was at it.

"There wasn't anything in your medical records."

"I didn't go to the hospital." She folded her arms. "There wasn't any need."

"You lost a lot of blood."

"So I've heard," she muttered, squirming slightly under his intense scrutiny.

"Look, we can sit here until you finally crack and tell me what I want to know," he said, exasperation written across his face. "Or, you can just get it over and done with in the next five minutes and I'll leave you be... Which'll it be?"

Arya scowled. "The second one, I suppose... Well, if you let me go to Defence."

"Out of the question."

"Says who?"

Rian's eye twitched. "Me."

"And I'm supposed to care about your opinion because...?"