Alright, start the dialysis now. Don't use more than eleven milligrams. We don't know what dosage she needs, and too much could kill her.
That'd be a shame.
I will not tolerate such remarks.
Oh, come on, I was just kidding! I wouldn't sacrifice my career for this bag of slime.
Blood pressure normal.
I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. You're clearly not the right person for this procedure. A doctor does not judge.
Fine. Who should I send in?
No one, unless something goes wrong. And don't insult the patient ever again.
I don't know what you're so worried about. She can't hear me.
She can hear you, but she doesn't understand. There's a difference.
Yeah, alright. Let me know how it goes.
Her heart rate is accelerating.
That's normal. The serum is working.
Are her eyes supposed to be doing that?
Yes. Just don't let her disconnect from the IV. The fluid needs to enter her steadily, or she could go into shock.
She looks pretty shocked right now.
Yes, I imagine this can't be easy. It'll be worse when she's conscious- Hold her down!
I'm trying! I thought she was sedated!
She is, but we couldn't give her too much, or the treatment wouldn't work properly.
Okay, she seems to be calming down. How much longer?
Only-
"-eleven minutes, worst case scenario. She appears to be doing well, however. It shouldn't be much longer."
She's awake. She's awake and she's in an unfamiliar place. She wants to run. She wants to break free and-
"Shhh, shhh. It's okay. We're not gonna hurt you."
"Don't touch her face like that. It might confuse her. In all likelihood, she doesn't remember what happened."
She's naked. Is she naked? It feels like she is, but something is off about her skin.
"Do you think she can understand us?"
"Maybe. She looks more or less aware. Try communicating with her, but don't say anything upsetting. We can't risk a panic attack."
"Hello. Do you understand me? Are you awake, Ms. Glass?"
Is that her name? It sounds right, but there's something else . . .
"Hello? Rebecca, can you understand me?"
Rebecca. That's the other part. That makes her Rebecca . . . Glass. But what do those words mean?
"Ms. Glass?"
Glass. Glass, like the stuff in windows? Wait, what's a window? Why doesn't she know this? Is that normal? What's she supposed to know?
"Rebecca? . . . Rebecca? . . ."
Is that even a real word? Words are supposed to be things, but there's no such thing as a Rebecca. This lady must mean something else.
"Rebecca?"
Maybe she means breakfast. That almost sounds the same. Breakfast is the thing you eat in the morning. Is it morning? What's a window? . . .
"Should she be speaking by now?"
"Give it time. She's probably confused."
She feels anger burning in the pit of her stomach. Why? She's not sure, exactly, but she has a feeling that something bad was said about her. Was it that she was probably? No, there was more. Probably . . . confused. Confused is the bad part. She's not confused. Well, maybe she is. She doesn't remember what that word means . . .
"Rebecca, if you understand what I'm saying, blink twice."
"That won't work. She needs to respond verbally. That way, we know she's aware."
"Alright. Can you do that, Rebecca? Can you speak?"
Yes, as a matter of fact, she can. She remembers being able to talk. Wait, why can't she do it now? Maybe she can. She just needs to remember how . . .
"I think she's trying."
"Could be, or else she's just spooked. Ask her to say something simple."
"Like what?"
"A word with sharp consonants. Usually, they aren't able to form B's and similar sounds right away. They need to learn how to work their mouths."
In the time he takes to say this, she's been trying to remember how to speak. It has something to do with sending air out of one's mouth: she's sure of it.
"Why's she breathing like that?"
"No idea."
Wait. Speaking is sound. She can make sound.
"Is she in pain?"
"I don't think so."
Different sounds. Not just one. What kind of a sound does a person make?
"Should we be worried?"
"No, I've seen this behavior before. Nothing new."
New . . . New . . . New!
New.
"Oh my god, she spoke!"
"If you can call that speaking. Keep her going. Encourage her."
Someone is close to her now.
"Hello. I think you understand me, Ms. Glass. Do you understand me? Answer yes or no."
No.
"Um . . ."
"That's good. She's getting better. She's just a little mixed up, that's all."
No! No! . . . NOT!
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, but calm her down. We only have a minute left."
"Okay. Listen, Rebecca. I know this may come as a shock, but you've been unconscious for two years."
Unconscious? . . . No, that can't be right. She has memories. Just this morning, she was in a truck- Wait, why was she in the back? That's not how she's supposed to ride a truck. There was no seatbelt, no seat . . . Why was she eating from the ceiling? Something isn't right. But why isn't it right? Deep down, she knows the answer. She knows it. But it's all so fuzzy . . .
"There was debate as to whether or not you should be cured, but the council decided it would be inhumane to let you-"
What.
"What? What do you mean, 'what'?"
What. Say again.
"The council decided not to let you-"
Word. Say word.
". . . Which one? . . ."
In. In . . . In . . .
"In? . . . Oh, inhumane?"
Yes, that's the one. There's something about that word, something significant. What is it? She can't quite put her finger-
Fingers. That's important. Before everything turned fuzzy, she remembers looking at her fingers and-
No, that can't be right. They don't look like that. But why not? What's going on?
Help.
"Yes, we're doing our best to help you, but we need you to stay calm. What's the last thing you remember?"
The last thing she remembers? Well, she remembers coming here in a truck, but she has a feeling the doctor is referring to something else. She's supposed to say what happened before everything turned fuzzy. Well, she remembers her fingers and-
THAT STUPID BOY
Wait, what was that? She remembers the feeling, but she doesn't seem to recall the details of-
YOU DID THIS TO ME
He did this to her. Did what? Who was he? And why-
please make it stop don't let it happen this way I promise I'll do anything
She remembers begging for her life. She wasn't dying, exactly, but she might as well have been . . .
"Rebecca?"
Innocent.
"Who is?"
"Three syllables. We're making progress. See if you can get her to form sentences."
I'm innocent . . .
"Does that count?"
She is breathing faster now.
I'm innocent. I'm . . . Rebecca Glass, and I . . . I'm not supposed to be here.
"Stay calm. I'm gonna need you to take deep breaths, hon."
No. No, this isn't right. I shouldn't be here.
"Listen to me. You're sick. You need to count to ten and-"
"GET YOUR HANDS OF ME, YOU DISGUSTING ANIMAL!"
There is barely a microsecond of hesitation between the words leaving her mouth and her springing forward. Plastic tubes are ripped from her neck, but she ignores the pain and knocks the female doctor over. The male makes a leap for her, but she's already out the door. She scurries down the hallway, dizzy and disoriented. Nurses and patients dive out of her way, alerted by her screams of fury and fear. She knocks over cots and computers in her rampage. The doctors are desperate to stop her. She does not relent.
She charges down sterile corridors, heart palpitating faster than it ought to, but slower than it should. The fluorescent light hurts her eyes. Everything is white. It's like a dream, only she's sure she just woke up from a nightmare.
Then, she sees it. The exit. The darkness is broken only by the glow of orange street lamps: the kind they use in small towns, where they can't afford to upgrade. So she's in the middle of nowhere, but that's not important right now. She needs to escape. She needs to be free.
When she reaches for the door handle, Rebecca freezes in place. For a moment, the world stops turning. That's when she realizes that she has not woken up from her nightmare: it's only just begun. The doctors have caught up with her, bringing security guards with them. She hears the staff coming, but does not turn to look at them. Her eyes are fixed on the ghostly reflection in the glass door: a face that is not hers, but copies her every movement. Right now, it wears an expression that is a mix of horror, disbelief, and disgust. The male doctor approaches her slowly, like a zookeeper cornering an escaped hippo.
"I realize this comes as a shock, but we need your full cooperation. All we want to do is talk. Can we do that? Can we talk?"
Rebecca backs away from the glass without breaking eye contact, as though she expects the monster in the reflection to attack at any moment.
"This isn't happening . . . This isn't happening . . ."
"I'm sorry. I know it's hard to wrap your head around-"
"Who did this? Who did this to me?"
From the corner of the room, another doctor sneers.
"You did, actually. It's nobody's fault but your own."
The first doctor points at him in warning.
"Not another word out of you!"
He turns back to Rebecca, lifting his hands in a gesture that is a mix between surrender and defense.
"Ms. Glass, I'm gonna need you to come back to your room without protest. I know there's a lot on your mind right now, but if you cause trouble, it's going to come back to bite you."
"Already has," says the third doctor.
The first doctor shoots him a threatening glare, but the female doctor shakes her head and waddles over to Rebecca, kneeling a few feet in front of her.
"Hey. It's going to be okay. The same thing happened to me a year ago. I know it's scary, but you'll get used to it, I promise."
Rebecca eyes the doctor with disbelief. The calmness in the girl's eyes makes her neutral mien contort into a sneer.
"You're disgusting, you know that?"
"I-"
"No, don't you dare defend yourself. You're nothing more than a savage monster. You and your kind should have stayed extinct."
The female doctor runs her hand over her crest, then turns to her partner for guidance.
"Um, a little help?"
The male steps in front of her to take her place in the negotiations.
"Ms. Glass, we're well aware of your attitude towards dinosaurs, but I strongly recommend you take the time to reevaluate and possibly reconsider your standpoint. In the two years you were unconscious, things have been changing faster than ever. As you may have guessed, we found a cure for the toxin you created, and have rehabilitated several individuals, including my associate, here. Regardless of what we are, Ms. Glass, it's our responsibility to get past our differences and accept each other for who we are. Sometimes, that includes putting the past behind us. I'm sure a good deal of former humans will forgive you for what you've done if you change your point of view. It will take some time, but if we try to understand each other, everything will turn out just fine."
Rebecca looks from the doctor to his partner, then at the third doctor in the corner of the room. She narrows her eyes when she notices that the security guards have their hands resting on their tasers. She snarls and gnashes her teeth.
"Fools! You think I'm the one you have to worry about? How could you let a beast like her work in a hospital?"
The parasaurolophus winces, and the male doctor spreads his arms protectively.
"I'll have you know that the only reason she's a dinosaur is because of what you did, but even if that weren't the case, I see no logic in treating her like an animal. She's a person like you and me, and that's the end of it."
Rebecca laughs.
"God, you're so stupid. You think you can trust a dinosaur? Look at her. She's covered in scales from head to toe!"
From the corner of the room, the third doctor scoffs.
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't go throwing stones at a glass house."
The silence is pregnant. Rebecca turns to face him slowly. Her leg muscles tense up, and she paws at the ground. Then, she gives a furious roar and charges at him, horns gleaming. Before she can drive them through his treacherous heart, the security guards unholster their weapons and shock her. She collapses heavily, making the glass table on the other side of the room rattle. Before she's dragged away, the parasaurolophus passes by and gives her a look of disdain.
"I heard stories about you, but I didn't want to believe them. I wish I had known your critics were right about you all along. I wasted far too much time finding the words to say I forgive you. Now, I'm not sure if I do. I've accepted who I am, but you . . . You're just despicable."
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