Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday dear Dean and Taylor Hebert! Happy birthday to us.
Had Taylor Hebert survived the ending of Worm, she would now officially be of Drinking Age! And in commemoration of this event, I will now post a chapter, the very first of my own Worm fiction (don't expect too much from me, now. Just good quality chapters that won't come often), and I will finish off my tiny bottle of Fireball Whiskey, which I picked up off the side of the street (bad idea, but hey, I'm doing it anyways), as well as that (similarly small) bottle of wine I got from a similar source (near Wal-Mart, on the side of the road)
And don't worry if the first chapter makes no sense. It's not supposed to. But it does make a good beginning point, and I'm kinda proud of it. :)
Snowflake 1.1
A fractured image, an impression of something massive.
Then a fireball, reaching in with multicolored astral splendor.
And then it hits me.
Instantly, her eyes snap open. White-fastraggedbreathing-rustle-pounding-clopclop-chatternatter-breath-WHITE-jerk-STOP! arms bound,leather=tastesfunny sawdust/velvetPain!
Cough-a rasp, meant to be a scream.
whereaminwhereforewhereinwhatrustlerustleraspcoughleather stillhurtsdrythrouatbeepbeepbeepbeep twitchWHITEtwitchWHITE
infoSECRETShelltopayDon'tlet Tim finoudtkeephimonhisprescriptiontherewon'tbe asecond chance forKill 'sseizing!wher'esmydaughter!ohmycow!thatcockisbig!Greys'anatomyisthatnew showfromEarthAleph,right?
Vibrationnothtere asa jackhammerkills concrete
but that's not right because Konkrete beats Tank, so why does Jachkamer beat Konkrete?
soloudMEDICINE foosballCOFFEEcreditcardI'm sure Ihavenoughhurts
hurtshurtshurtsHurtsHurstHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTS!
CLONG!
Like the Daredevil himself.
CLONG!
The hour bell of the nearest church with one rings out.
CLONG!
And soothes the dreaded beast of panic and hysteria.
CLONG!
And allows sleep to slowly come.
CLONG!
Before she opened her eyes, she took stock of herself. In pain, but how was that new? Immobilized by leather straps, well that just won't do now will it?
It felt like there was a pain still there, one which needed to come out, to ache through her teeth for years if need be.
Water, she needed water.
A human being (average) can survive up to three days without enough water. With careful rationing, they can survive perhaps 4 or 5 days, more if you have access to enough Intravenous bags of Saline and other, necessary vitamins and minerals.
There's an IV line set into her left arm at the elbow. a medical clip (oximeter) onto her right index finger. Combined with white says she's most likely at a hospital. Memory further back says it is likely to be Brockton Bay General. Anything could've happened, but that is the most likely.
There was the sound of metal snap buttons coming undone. She was unbound.
Slowly, painfully, she pulled herself to a sitting position. She tried to swing her legs over the side and winced when the bed banged loudly as her legs hit the railing. She pulled them over the railing and pushed herself over it, landing feet first and crumpling painfully. Ghostly images started swarming her vision, even with her eyes screwed tightly shut, without hardware anyways. She tried to ignore them as she pulled herself to a more or less standing position and started to walk around the bed, ignoring the agonized beeping coming from behind her. All she knew was that a voice in her head was telling her which way water was, and that's where she wanted to go.
A feeling tugging at her as she moved in its direction around the bed. She felt like sticks and twigs and nothing more, barely strong enough to even shuffle as she held onto the bed railing for support.
Unacceptable.
She really needed something to wash out her mouth of that bad taste.
People were coming down the hall, walking fast, maybe for the beeping alarm behind her.
You can be more.
That and it felt like she was coming down with something, like there was a slight burning from too much mucus in the back of her throat. Should probably blow my nose too.
You will be more.
She reached for the next part of the railing, and missed.
She was out of bed to cling to.
She began to fall.
A shout was heard, but it wasn't necessary.
Before she hit the ground, she grabbed it. She wasn't sure what it was, other than it was in the middle of thin air, and she could feel it, and not in a way easily described either.
With effort, she slowly pushed herself up with it until she couldn't go up any further, then she reached her hand up and grabbed another one, pulled herself up with that. Rinse, Lather, Repeat until standing.
She tried to go another step, faltered, then grabbed another, this one more in a position for a crutch than a handy little table to push off of.
Another step, another grab. Another step, another grab. She brushed into someone, but ignored them. Bad idea normally, but she couldn't afford distractions, couldn't afford to pay attention to anything else until she had some water.
After a length of time she didn't know, the 'crutches' she'd been using shimmered out of existence while under her hand and she almost slammed into a small counter. She opened her eyes, and found a small sink with a cup beside it.
She turned it on, intending to get some water, but then her eyes went wide before shutting tightly as she leaned in and vomited painfully. Not for long, but painful all the same. Eyes open again in time to see an amount of some sort of black liquid swish down the drain, slowly lightening to red.
Spent, wasted blood. a piece of her mind told her. Your Spleen isn't recovered enough yet to do any better.
She shook her head and picked up the cup and filled it, turning off the faucet when done.
The first mouthful was swished around to get out the last remnants of rapidly-fetid blood. The second didn't stop being gulped down until the cup was empty. Then she set it down and grabbed the toothbrush and brushed her teeth. They were getting a little nasy, even with the swish.
Another swish, and she set down both cup and brush, before turning around to where memory said her bed was, and immediately faltered and began to fall.
But this time she didn't catch herself.
This time, she felt strong arms encircle her as exhaustion blanketed her. She looked up and smiled, however weakly.
"Daddy." her voice came out as a pathetic mewl, but that was okay, she was safe now. Daddy was here.
He smiled. A sad, tired smile, but a genuine smile nonetheless. "Hey Kiddo."
"Tuck me in?" She asked hopefully as blackness encroached on her vision.
"Sure thing."
She didn't make it to the bed. The last thought that went through her head almost let her make it from sheer startlement, but she succumbed anyway.
Why would there be a toothbrush, at all, in a Hospital room?
More, a hospital room for a noted suicidal?