dumb

♡NEARER TO THEE♡

June 22nd, 1989
Cleo dabs her damp face with a rag, her body sticky and searing with heat. Loose bills that men had stuck in her panties crumpled beneath her and nipped at her skin. She hurriedly washed off her makeup, anxious to return to the hospital, and resign herself to that same old plastic chair.

Jenny and her take turns working at Lenny's, so that one of them can remain at the hospital alongside Maggie and her mother. It's almost 2 a.m and Cleos eyes sting with the irresistible urge to sleep, but her mind cannot rest, because she knows her friend is on her deathbed, and that knowledge destroys any grain of sanity Cleo had left.

She shudders inwardly and shoves the money from her thong and garters into her duffel bag. Her movements are fleeting as she throws on a tee shirt and tattered jeans. She hastily pulls on her sneakers and collects her stuff.

Just as she's pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder, Carol calls for her. Cleo whips around swiftly. "Yeah?" She calls hoarsely. "There's a call for you." She furrows her eyebrows in impatience and worry, striding over to where Carol stands with the phone.

Before Cleo can even ask who she's speaking with, Jenny's urgent voice crackles in her ear. "She's waking up. You need to get here—," Cleo hangs up, her stomach turning as she puts the phone down, and swiftly exits through the Back door of the club. Her boots smack against the pavement as she sprints for her car. Her heart is thundering in her chest, each beat longing for Maggie. She clumsily yanks the car door open and slides in, pulling out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

The drowsiness she felt only moments ago dissolves into fear and hope and sorrow, emotions jumbling around in her disarrayed skull. She knows Maggie will be upset, disappointed to be alive and surrounded by loved ones. She knows the all consuming humiliation Maggie will feel, though there's no need for it. So many outcomes, so many thoughts and feelings and wants.

It's all dizzying as she swerves into the hospital parking lot.

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Maggie's wonders if she's in Hell.

Or maybe purgatory, for all of her tainted, ungodly operations, forced to repent for some unattainable heaven. They pull a thick tube out of her throat, withdraw needles from her arms. Her mouth is sticky and dry as a bone, her body throbbing yet numb. Fuck, this is even worse than living another moment.

Shadows hover and glide around her, bleary sylphlike little fairies dancing through the beige room. Indistinguishable chatter sounds, but she's hard of hearing and the voices fade in and out of her grasp. She thinks she grunts but can't really tell whether the noise left the depths of her throat. "Maggie? I'm a doctor. Can you hear me?" His voice echoes in the recesses of her scrambled mind.

She nods.

A nurse pries her sullen eyes open, shining a flashlight in them. Maggie groans quietly and tries to pull away, but her body feels anchored to the stiff hospital bed. The nurse pulls away and speaks with the doctor, but the chatter is so distorted, and Maggie begins to feel frustrated. She's an empty shell, she thinks, unable to discern anything around her.

She opens her mouth, or that's what she thinks she's doing. Maybe she's really not. Her own voice doesn't touch her chapped lips. Just strange grunts are emitted. Her fists ball up around the scratchy blanket over her torso, a wet veil of tears coating her dusky eyes.

Irritation and agony boil in her stomach hotly. Her ears wince feebly at the soft cries of her own mother. Her idle heart longs for her mother's arms, warm and tender, the closest memory of happiness. She wants to lean forward, let her mother embrace her, but she can't see, can't move, and she's panicking.

Her chest is so tight. Every scarce breath sends an ocean of pain rippling through her. Her nails poke through the thin blanket, and her tears leak from the corners of her eyes. "What's happening to her?" She's able to make out Cleos voice, can actually distinguish her shaky words. "She's panicking. It's normal for someone coming out of a coma."

They put a breathing mask over her mouth as she struggles to obtain oxygen. Her body trembles feebly against the hospital bed, but she can faintly see a figure enter the room. A man, and he looks like Kurt from her bleary view. She's gazing at him and his drawn between amazement and panic.

The doctor injects a syringe into her IV, and her body weakens further. She's fighting the urge to let her eyes fall shut, but not for long.

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"Did you really need to sedate her?" Maggie's mother, Nancy, hisses at the doctor. "Yes Mrs. Jolivet. She was panicking too much. Her heart rate was too high and her vitals were dropping." Nancy knows why they had to, but the logical, medically educated sector of her brain isn't operating. The fierce, loving, desperately maternal side of her is powerful.

Kurt, Cleo, and Jenny sit in those familiarly stiff hospital chairs alongside Maggie's bed. The women desperately grip her hands. The doctor says she'll wake up soon. Kurts heart beats with fear and longing and resolute. He's thankful she woke up, but he cannot shake the image of her thrashing around out of his head.

He's never seen her so terrified, so desperate and frenzied, and he never wants to see her in that state of mind again.

He would pray if he had someone to worship.

Hello! I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've updated, but I'm here now <3 I hope you've all been well! I just want to let you guys know that I've been working on some other stuff, a Last of Us fic and a Far Cry 5 fic. Both are new territory for me and I'm really working to perfect them, but keep an eye out for those if you're interested ;)