walking closer- towards the towering, maddeningly white, building- her mothers glare could have made the pavement burst into flames.
ib could hear her parents arguing, whispers thrown harshly in a way she was sure she wasn't supposed to hear them, but could anyway. she kept her eyes forward, through the space between her sires.
"i don't like this." her mother says. her shoulders are squared awkwardly, eyes lowered and face bowed- an aura of anger and pain about her.
"iris.." her father sighs indulgently- like a parent does to a pouting child. ib got that tone a lot lately.
"we shouldn't be doing this to her!" iris hisses, her tone raising just the tiniest bit higher. her fathers sharp look has her mother quiet once more, that familiar feeling of not right, making ib feel uncomfortable.
her father sighs.
"why are you so against this?" he wonders, suddenly impatient. her mothers shoulders are shaking now, holding- something- back before she does something she'd regret.
"why am I-look at what you've done to her!" voice heavy, her tears are thick and ugly and she quickly brushes them away before someone saw. they enter the building and take their time walking down the hallway.
ib doesn't quite understand what her parents are talking about, but the thought to comfort her mother takes root and she reaches up to grab the womans hand. the womans eyes are like windows and ib wonders why her mother looked so agonized as her hand grips ibs much smaller hand tightly. it kind of hurt, but ib didn't really mind, nor did she care enough to let the other know.
"me?" her father reiterates, incredulously, mockingly.
"you're just as much to blame in this as I, iris." he tells her coldly, frowning. he cant quite stop the guilt, though, when his wife flinches violently, as if slapped, eyes dull when she looks at her little girl.
her little girl, so small and delicate and precious and beautiful, barely even nine, and- and she kind of hates herself a little bit more now.
"mommy.." ib calls with her soft voice, eyes peering up at her in silent question. iris smiles at her girl, playing with silky soft hair.
"i know," she whispers, closing her eyes, resigned. she hatedhatedhated the smile on her husbands cheeks, as if he were saying: "i win," and spitting it in her face, but she finds comfort in the constant warmth glued to her side as they stand before the receptionists desk, all plastic smiles.
"remember" ib told herself.
she stood before the painting "fabricated world" ignoring the people walking behind her; their steps like quick bombs that rang in her ears, painful, annoying and she wishes it'd just shutup.
"remember" she repeats again and again, because she needed to remember something and if she didn't she knew she would lose something important. ib trusted her instincts, even if it's vague.
who is she forgetting, what is she forgetting?
the blues and yellows and reds within the dreadful painting draws her attention and makes her head ache. it annoyed her, because ib never forgot.
anything.
ever.
but for some reason, today, she did, and it felt wrong, because she would not- can't- have allowed it.
for some odd reason the blue makes her heart race. it makes her think warm, bright, nice, friend- ..friend?- tall and she wishes it to hug her. she can taste the remnants of something sour on her tongue, but she doesn't remember eating anything today. she hadn't even eaten breakfast either. the sour taste, though, makes her feel like she's reminiscing about a particularly nice moment in time.
she looks up and see's purple hair and dark colors as it disappears behind a door and she briefly wonders why she feels as if she's lost that important something. she watches the door ease shut, hand reaching out numbly.
her arm is suddenly grabbed and she's being pulled somewhere, away from that important something. she looks up to see her father, his face blank, cold and awkward as they leave the gallery. she see's that head of purple and dark streaks walking down the street, all broad shoulders and tall and mysterious.
she's sitting in her fathers car, then, who's embarrassed because his daughter won't. stop. crying. and "people are staring, ib!" and ibs mother is crying now, too, because she knew they shouldn't have done this to their daughter.
she knew what they were doing was a mistake.
when darkness creeps into her consciousness, ib welcomes it with open arms.
something high pitched and constant brings her back to conciousness and she sits up slowly. her vision swims, perefrial vision going dark, but it's not something she hasn't felt before so is able to ignore it after a few seconds of sitting still. lightheaded, but now mobile, she throws her legs over the bed she sat upon.
the air is cold and stale. it only takes her a moment to realize that she is, in fact, not at home, bit in a hospital. the high pitched beeping coming from a heart monitor.
put out, but not particularly nervous, she clenches and unclenches her fingers and toes, finding them slightly stiff. as she does that she takes notice of the tube in her arms, a flimsy looking bandage keeping it in place. she thinks to rip it out, but holds back. she was in a hospital, they probably stuck a tube in her arm for her own good. seeing as there was nothing to occupy her besides the occasional cry of a child (or even an angry elder), she slouches from her proper posture and waits. a nurse was bound to come in eventually. once they did, ib could question them about why in the world she was in the hospital in the first place.
the last thing she remembered was falling asleep in her parents car after balling her eyes out. her mother's guilty gaze and her father's panicked words. she wonders what happened.
"oh! You're awake!" her new companions voice is worn and shook with effort. when turning to face the woman, ib was not surprised to see an elderly nurse, hair as white as ash and skin like gravel.
the nurse eases her way to ib and checks her vitals. it's quiet for a long while. the woman would not make eye contact with ib, which the girl found strange. usually it was ib avoiding eye contact.
"why am I here?" Ib questions and despite her voice always being softer than cloud, it cut across the silence with shocking coldness. the nurse pauses, thin lips pursing, before she continues poking at ibs limbs. ibs not sure what exactly it is she's doing, but writes it off as medical stuff.
"you know.. you're a very well behaved child. you've not fussed at me once!" the old woman says, seeming jovial. ib blinks. she wonders why the nurse dodged her question like that. it was a simple thing, which deserved a simple response. ib watches the woman work in silence again- this one even longer than the last. eventually, though, as the nurse regals her with stories about her niece, ib decides to broach the subject again.
"why am I here?" she repeats. the old ladies teeth clamp shut with an audible click and then she's just staring. her eyes are a very somber looking brown.
"you were in an accident," the woman finally tells her, gesturing to wounds ib hadn't realized she had. she gazes at her arms, which were bandaged and splotchy with an angry red, wondering just how bad this crash was. more importantly-
"where are my parents?" she raises her gaze once more to the now frowning nurse. ib feels something clench in her chest, but pushes it down quickly.
the nurse sighs, expression that of pity.
"your father has been here the past two days visiting. he only suffered a few scratches, fortunately."
"and my mother?" the woman opens her mouth to say something, but pauses nervously when her brown gaze settles on Ib again. ib almost shivered. she wasn't used to adults being so nervous (well except for him, but he's a special case). they usually bossed her around with a certain finality, she was wont to disobey.
"your mother," the nurse licks her dry lips. "your mother, oh dear I'm so sorry, but she's in a coma," she finally breathed. she patted ibs shoulder, although it didn't seem to ib as if she actually cared about the news. no, her words sounded rather hollow. it's more like, she felt bad because she was relaying the news to a child.
something heavy pooled in her stomach, but she has experience pushing the feeling to the back of her mind.
"will.." ib pauses, trying to think of a question that is actually relevant. "will she wake up?"
the woman grimaced harshly, before offering ib a slow shake of her wrinkled head.
"I don't know, hun." she says. they're bathed in a silence so heavy it weighed on the nurses shoulders. ib focussed on breathing, so that she wouldn't have to think. thinking made her susceptible to feeling and when that happened she was liable to do things she usually wouldn't. usually those things we're quite violent.
"your father will be able to get you within the next two hours." the nurse tells her, changing her pillow. ib nods, expecting that to be the case.
"besides the injury to your head, you suffered only minor scrapes and bruises," the nurse continues to babble for the next few minutes, until eventually she's finished with her check up and leaves the room.
now alone, ib drops her perfect posture again. the splotchy redness of her arms are annoying and she finds herself picking at the injured skin just to do so. it didn't hurt, although that wasn't so strange. they probably had her on something to dull it. that, and ib has always been good at blocking it out.
"oh!" that same lilting voice cried. looking towards the door ib finds the nurse lady gaping at ibs arm. curious, ib looks herself, and realizes she looks as if she were in a pool of her own blood. feeling her stomach drop at the sight, but overall not bothered, she stops her itching to allow the nurse to clean her up.
"sorry." she offers.
the nurse huffs, her brows furrowed and her cheeks strangely tense, despite the hollowness due to her old age. ib found it interesting to watch the harsh jiggling of the woman's skin, and let the sight lull her to sleep.