This week the prompt was posted a bit late so I consider it a perfect excuse to continue my story from the previous week, shamelessly ignoring the pic. It presents a fallen angel. Not my favourite fictional creature to say the least of it. You might understand my aversion if you look at..ehem…her:
Thera woke up. She thought her head must have swelled to the size of a watermelon; additionally it was stuffed full of barbed wire. The bad taste in her mouth reminded her of the stench of a burning rubber tyre on a hot summer day mixed with a rotten carcass of road kill…She swallowed and started to toss from side to side, trying to find a position in which her head would hurt rather a fraction less than more. After a while somebody put a straw into her smelly mouth. When she was drinking wonderful spring water she heard the voice of her mother.
“Easy, kid, drink and don’t move; you will be ok soon.”
Oh great. Was she at home? How did she get there? And what was her eternally busy mother doing by her side? Didn’t she have any ward duty or something? As if she could read her mind, her mother added:
“You are in the hospital, Thera, but I will take you home soon. A colleague agreed to cover for me this evening.”
Hospital? How come? Thera started to remind herself the events that led to her being taken to a hospital for the first time in her life and simply couldn’t remember anything. Then she thought about her book and the library guy…ok, so she was supposed to go there and somehow weasel out of paying a fine but whether she succeeded or not she didn’t know – it was like a black curtain. Gosh, she even didn’t remember if she talked to him or to somebody else…great, first the hospital then a memory loss, perhaps even a brain haemorrhage or paralysis…her panic rose again and she started moving restlessly her limbs just to prove herself she could.
Somebody opened the door to her room and entered inside. Thera opened one eye and focused on a man in a white overall. Her mother started to thank him for coming – apparently it was a doctor. He brought a handful of papers and handed them to her mum, still flustered and babbling her thanks in a less and less cohesive manner. Thera has had enough. She sat on her bed. The effort made her dizzy but it paid off – her mother finally went silent. The doctor looked at her.
“Great to see you are feeling better, Miss Jones. Could you tell me what happened to you at school?”
“No, I can’t. I don’t remember anything apart from the fact that I wanted to return a book to the library.”
Thera tried to keep her voice as matter-of-fact as possible. She was a bit ashamed of her mother. The doctor eyed her thoughtfully.
“What did you eat for breakfast, young lady?”
“Breakfast?” Thera almost snorted. “I don’t eat breakfast, sir. Bad for my stomach”
The doctor cocked one brow. Thera couldn’t fail to notice that he was quite handsome. Men, even in a form of handsome doctors, can be so disgustingly dumb, though…
“Bad for my stomach – it makes it less flat, you see. Distended. Bloated. Flatulent. Unaesthetic,” she explained in a patient tone of somebody who must spell slowly the simplest truths and do it in a respectful way.
Now her mother was blushing.
“Thera how come you failed to mention to me your little…er…breakfast problem?” she asked before the doctor had time to react.
Thera gave her an insolent stare.
“Tell me mum, do you eat breakfast?”
Her mother blushed deep crimson and couldn’t find the answer for a moment or two. The doctor looked at Thera again, clearly amused by the whole scene.
“Oh well. From now on, however, Miss Jones has to eat her breakfast and perhaps also wear more loose-fitting clothes to hide that ugly, bloated stomach of hers. The results of her blood tests seem to be in perfect order so I suppose it was just a temporary indisposition. But if she faints again we will have to keep her in hospital bed longer and examine her more thoroughly.”
In your dreams, thought Thera, smiling angelically. She was definitely feeling better.
When they got home, Thera’s mother took an officially looking sheet of paper out of her bag and signed it.
“Here,” she said, handing it to her daughter with a smile, “your parental consent form. I never knew you liked books so much to apply for a two-month library internship. To tell you the truth the librarian looked surprised as well but I must say I am glad. A good decision. Let’s hope you are finally getting wiser.”
Thera almost fainted again. Her memory returned.