"Water," Krystle heard herself say.
"You don't need water," came the scoffing reply. "You're fine."
Krystle tentatively licked her lips and found smooth skin. Her tongue was wet. Her eyes no longer burned. After a moment she realized she didn't even feel thirsty. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around her. She saw a big blur of white that seemed to materialize into a ceiling and walls. She felt as though she was in a fog that she could not come out of. Understanding came slowly. She found that she was laying down, but didn't know why. She turned her head and saw machines facing away from her. One of them beeped rhythmically, as though keeping time. The wires coming out of them were attached to her body. They must be monitoring her vital signs, then. Krystle blinked her eyes, trying to clear her thinking. It didn't work. A woman sat by the door, her finger marking her place in the book that was in her lap.
"We had to give you more fluids than I thought your small body could hold, though, missy. You need to take better care of yourself." Her voice was not kind, but neither was it rough. The advice was sound; Krystle felt as though she had been run over by an army tank and left out in the sun to dry. She definitely needed to take better care of herself. Her thoughts started to become clearer.
"Where am I?" she asked after a moment.
"You're at the hospital."
"Where was I?" she asked, remembering vaguely the scorching heat and hours of walking through the sand.
"My guess would be somewhere in the Sahara, but you would know better than I."
Krystle tried to bring her hand up to rub her forehead, but found that her hands were tied to the bed. Her heart began to race. "What is this?" she asked.
"Listen, I have other patients to see to. Try to get some sleep while I'm gone. That's all you really need right now, anyway." The nurse stood up from her chair and turned to open the door, novel still in hand.
"Wait!" Krystle cried, sitting up in the bed. The woman turned. "Please, tell me something... anything!" the heart-rate monitor by the bed beeped rapidly.
The woman's face melted somewhat. She walked over toward the bed. "Krystle," she said softly, "Try to get some sleep right now. In a couple hours, you won't remember you were ever here." With that, the nurse turned and walked briskly to the door.
"No, don't leave..." panic welled up inside of Krystle. She didn't want to be left alone! "Please..." but the woman was gone.
Left alone, Krystle fought the mounting hysteria. There was nothing more terrifying than this ignorance and confusion. She fought the bands holding her wrists. They were secure. They did not chafe her wrists, but no matter how hard she twisted and pulled they would not come loose. She whimpered, then lay back down on the bed, her hands compulsively twisting in the straps. She pulled her legs up, relieved to find that they were not strapped down. She worked the muscles in her body, starting with her toes and moving up to her neck By the time she was done, she had calmed down considerably. She had no injuries. Her skin was smooth and unburned. Her muscles weren't even sore. Aside from her hands still writhing in the bonds by her sides, she was fine. "This is a problem to be dealt with," she told herself. "It is not a catastrophe." It was a mantra she had often used to get herself through hard times. It had always been true. Every problem had a solution. This problem had one, too.
Krystle had a slew of questions running through her mind, most of them with no clues to an answer. She decided to try to take the nurse's advice and get some sleep, hoping that would help her mind to clear. She struggled to get comfortable, tossing and turning as much as her bonds would allow her. She closed her eyes against the glare of the flourescent lights on the ceiling. Much to her surprise, she was much more tired than she felt, and sleep claimed her.
Two hours later, she awoke to the sound of voices outside her door. The sound was muffled, but she was still too tired to really care what was bing said. She was in a hospital. She was safe. Everything would be taken care of. She lay there on the bed, lethargically enjoying that she had nothing to think about. The joy was short-lived. Strains of the conversation began to reach her through the door and the sleepy fog that enshrouded her mind.
"Doctor, I don't think we should do this yet. She needs more time to rest," said a woman's voice.
"You're opinion is noted, nurse, but we will proceed as planned," came the reply.
"Are you sure about this? I really don't think it's wise to bring her this far..."
"Are you questioning my authority? That kind of talk could hand you in there with her, nurse. You will do as you are told."
Fading footsteps announced the departure of one of the women, while the other opened the door into her room. Krystle recogized the nurse she had spoken to before she fell asleep. The dark-haired woman looked at her with a businesslike pity that Krystle assumed all nurses must wear around their patients. It was probably hard to be around the sick all day. The nurse began to check the wires that monitored Krystle's vital signs, paying special attention to the ones attached to her head and chest. We're bringing somebody in for you to talk to, Krystle," she said. "That should make you happy."
Krystle looked up into her face. "Why am I strapped dow?" she asked quietly.
The nurse turned to the table by the wall that held bottles of medication and started filling a syringe with one of them. "That's procedure, dear. We do that to keep our patients from hurting themselves or us."
"Hurting myself? Nurse, what's wrong with me?"
"You don't know?" the nurse asked, her back still turned. After a pause, she turned back and said, "Your mind is sick, Krystle. We're going to help you every way we can, but you have to help us. You have to work with us. Tell us everything that's happening, everything you remember, and we'll help you get well. The more you tell us, the faster we can get you out of here. Do you understand me?" She spoke as though to a little child who could not understand.
Krystle stared at the nurse for a moment, then nodded an assent. The nurse walked over and added the contents of the syringe to the IV that was already pumping fluids into her arm. The nurse held Krystle'd hand as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She closed her eyes against it. "Remember, you have to help us so we can help you," said the nurse quietly. Krystle found herself longing with all her being to do as she was told, to do everything she could to help the woman who held her hand and the people who held her bonds. A small, insistent warning voice told her that something was not right with this, but she pushed it away and refused to listen. She was sure that was a part of her madness, trying to convince her that everything around her was madness. It would not go away, and in that instant before she lost consciousness she accepted it as part of herself. It was there and it would not leave, but she did not have to listen. In the next instant she was in a deep sleep and she remembered nothing.
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