[ She hears the beeps of the machines like sirens. The persistent high pitched press of noise had jolted her awake, sitting up in the bed, her palms tightening over her ears to make it stop. But it only gets louder and louder, like the ticking incline of a bomb. With her eyes clutched and closed, her mouth parts as if readying a scream. Breaths quicken and she knows it's dangerous β the scream of a banshee β but she feels it bubbling up inside of her, the beeps counting down towards the explosion of it.
β beep, beep, beep, beep, beep β
But then it doesn't come. All the noise around her returns to normal volume and nothing escapes her mouth. Fingers shaking and her heart pounding in her chest, she opens her eyes.
A quick glance around shows she's in a hospital, not that the memory of why rises. But somehow it isn't foreign to her, like she's always been checked in for something or other. A faint echo in the back of her head gives her the feeling like she's been in a hospital forever. Maybe she has.
But she doesn't want to stay. Not this time. She pulls any lingering wires from her arms, fingers urgently ripping them off as she scuffles to untangle herself from the bedsheets. A race to the door has her peeking out. She notes a few nurses pacing around but no one draws their attention to her. Good. She needs to get out. Something feels like she's been trying to escape for a long time. Like she's tried before and hasn't succeeded.
And so she runs, down the hall and simply away, without any real knowledge of the way out. Panic has her constantly glancing around, eyes darting through her surroundings to make sure she isn't being followed. Her lack of focused attention, also credited to the grogginess of her recent wake, prevents her from really looking forward sometimes.
At this rate, she's bound to run into something. Or someone β ]
streets β§
[ The cold hits her like a piercing knife. It's a sting that pinches at her cheeks and nose immediately before she feels it everywhere from her arms to her toes. This isn't safe. Bare feet on wet frozen ground is never a good idea. But Lydia just wants to get away, like an urgent need that she knows is there even if she isn't certain why.
She clutches at her arms, her lip quivering from the chill, but she paces forward and away from the hospital. There's a few people on the sidewalks but they looked panicked at the sight of her. Of course they would, seeing as how she's dressed. While they're draped into their winter coats and boots, she's in a hospital grown with her hair frazzled in a tangled fashion that puts her to shame. And her feet, the more she runs, the more she feels it. She needs to get out of this sooner than later.
If someone doesn't stop her in the street, which is entirely possible and expected, really (she does look like someone on the run who should be locked up), she rushes into the nearest building she could reach. Some sort of business, she thinks. She didn't quite read the sign, with her priorities elsewhere. She simply runs in her, her breath shaky, white air still escaping past her lips. ]
Excuse β [ Her voice is scratchy, immediately clearing her throat as she shakes her head. ] Shoes. Do you have shoes? [ And a jacket. And clothes. A brush. Just everything. ]
lydia martin, ota β§
β beep, beep, beep, beep, beep β
But then it doesn't come. All the noise around her returns to normal volume and nothing escapes her mouth. Fingers shaking and her heart pounding in her chest, she opens her eyes.
A quick glance around shows she's in a hospital, not that the memory of why rises. But somehow it isn't foreign to her, like she's always been checked in for something or other. A faint echo in the back of her head gives her the feeling like she's been in a hospital forever. Maybe she has.
But she doesn't want to stay. Not this time. She pulls any lingering wires from her arms, fingers urgently ripping them off as she scuffles to untangle herself from the bedsheets. A race to the door has her peeking out. She notes a few nurses pacing around but no one draws their attention to her. Good. She needs to get out. Something feels like she's been trying to escape for a long time. Like she's tried before and hasn't succeeded.
And so she runs, down the hall and simply away, without any real knowledge of the way out. Panic has her constantly glancing around, eyes darting through her surroundings to make sure she isn't being followed. Her lack of focused attention, also credited to the grogginess of her recent wake, prevents her from really looking forward sometimes.
At this rate, she's bound to run into something. Or someone β ]
[ The cold hits her like a piercing knife. It's a sting that pinches at her cheeks and nose immediately before she feels it everywhere from her arms to her toes. This isn't safe. Bare feet on wet frozen ground is never a good idea. But Lydia just wants to get away, like an urgent need that she knows is there even if she isn't certain why.
She clutches at her arms, her lip quivering from the chill, but she paces forward and away from the hospital. There's a few people on the sidewalks but they looked panicked at the sight of her. Of course they would, seeing as how she's dressed. While they're draped into their winter coats and boots, she's in a hospital grown with her hair frazzled in a tangled fashion that puts her to shame. And her feet, the more she runs, the more she feels it. She needs to get out of this sooner than later.
If someone doesn't stop her in the street, which is entirely possible and expected, really (she does look like someone on the run who should be locked up), she rushes into the nearest building she could reach. Some sort of business, she thinks. She didn't quite read the sign, with her priorities elsewhere. She simply runs in her, her breath shaky, white air still escaping past her lips. ]
Excuse β [ Her voice is scratchy, immediately clearing her throat as she shakes her head. ] Shoes. Do you have shoes? [ And a jacket. And clothes. A brush. Just everything. ]