Authors Note: Hey dudes! So this is chapter 2 of my depressing story! Enjoy!
The next week or so consisted of these episodes, in which she would awaken to find half her body replaced with metal limbs. She continued to sleep more regularly, and after weeks of physical therapy, they deemed her robotic limbs strong enough to carry her to the shower.
Of course, she had two nurse escorts, women, and they guided her slowly to the handicapped shower. It was the only one that had a seat.
They undressed her, and she sat as they bathed her, massaging soaps into her hair, which had gotten long in the months she had spent in the hospital.
"In a few more weeks or so, you might be able to do this all by yourself," one of her assistants said cheerfully as she sat there limply. She kept looking down at her robotic leg, the boot that her foot had turned into. It made noise every time she stepped.
"Will the metal rust?"
"Oh, no. It's a Precursor metal alloy, with no iron, so it will stay completely rust free for as long as you have them. But we do reccomend-"
"So, for my entire life, you mean." She cut the nurse off bitterly.
"Well... yes," The nurse responded, quietly, "but we don't want you to think of this as a hindrance. You can still do anything anyone else can." She changed gears. "But, like I said before, we recommend that you regularly clean and oil the prosthetic joints." She didn't respond.
She was clean, for the first time in months. Her hair dripped behind her, it's dark-to-light brown ombre locks in wet clumps.
On her left wrist, she saw a thin metal bracelet. Her hospital bracelet. Engraved in the silver metal was the Precursor alphabet, spelling out the words "Rivers, Rachyl."
Gazing down at her stomach, Rachyl touched the metal there. It was layered and thinner than that of her arms, so she was able to bend if she needed to. The same went for the makeshift joints in her knee, elbow, wrist and ankle. The gray substance that was now part of her had a golden sheen to it; that was the Precursor part. Her right arm, from the tips of her fingers to her lower neck, was made of this grayish golden metal.
The nurses helped Rachyl stand on her human foot as she cautiously placed the boot down. She had no feeling in these robotic limbs; it was strange to be able to move things you couldn't feel. She had barely any coordination at the moment, even after nearly a month of PT. Someone once mentioned that by a medical miracle, the doctors might be able to make her prosthetic limbs alive with synthetic nerves. Rachyl hoped this was true. She was tired of bumping into things when she couldn't feel where her arm was.
Holding her arms at the elbows, the pair of nurses guided her to the dressing room. It was there that she was patted dry with a towel, and given a loose red tunic and baggy white pants. Patient uniform in the hospital.
"Your brother is in your room, waiting for you," one of her nurses told her. She glanced at their nametags, but the writing was too small for her to see. They guided her back to her room, room 111.
"Good morning," her brother greeted her cheerfully as she sat down on the edge of her bed. The nurses were going to get her brunch; she had spent breakfast in the showers.
"Hey," she spoke quietly.
He watched her closely. "How are you feeling?" He asked.
Rachyl shrugged. "Good enough," she said, her face expressionless.
"The doctors said that they wanted to run a few more tests this afternoon... you're healing well. Granted, you still won't be allowed to leave for another month, at least-"
"Are they going to make it so I can feel these?" Rachyl lifted her right arm limply.
He pursed his lips. "We don't know yet," he admitted. "Like I said, they want to run more tests this afternoon."
Rachyl gazed out the window. This is what her life was going to consist of, wasn't it? She was a lab rat. That's all she was ever going to be. And if she ever got out of this cage, she wasn't ever going to have a normal life.
"How's your memory?" He asked after a minute or two of silence. She glanced over at him and squinted.
"I don't remember what happened, if that's what you mean," she snapped. Then she softened. "But I do remember that you're Hal."
"That's great, Rachyl," Hal smiled, almost sadly.
She brought her right hand up to rub her face. She managed to poke herself in the eye with a rounded metal fingertip. "Shit," she mumbled, bringing her other hand up to massage her face. That's when she felt the scars.
She stopped abruptly. "Get me a mirror," she said quietly.
"What?" Hal asked.
"A mirror!" Rachyl yelled. Her emotions were boiling over. She knew she was being a freak, but she couldn't stop herself from exploding. She was done with all this hospital shit.
A nurse came in with a tray of breakfast foods. They let her eat whole food a week into her recovery.
"Ready for breakfast, Rachyl?" The nurse asked politely.
Rachyl turned to her and asked, "Do you have a mirror?"
The nurse looked taken aback. "Um, yes," she said, tilting her head towards the closet. "There's one on the inside of the door."
Rachyl stood, one hand on the bedside table to steady herself. Stumbling slightly, she hobbled over to the door. Hal stood and offered her a hand, but she pushed it away. Opening the door with her left hand, (the metal on her right was to slippery for a doorknob) it swung open as she pulled it. The mirror on the inside was full body, and it was the first good look she got of herself since the accident.
What she really wanted to look at was her face. Leaning in close, she saw a scar that extended from the bottom of her ear to underneath her eye. Smaller scars flecked the surface of her skin, and her ear was missing chunks.
She looked into her own dark brown eyes and saw the rage burning inside them. She wasn't Rachyl anymore; she was someone else.
A hum in her throat turned to a yell, and she swung her metal arm up and punched the mirror. It shattered, thin shards falling to the carpeted floor. She kicked the door with her right leg, and it broke off its hinges. The nurse had dropped the tray of food and made her way over to her, and Hal had grabbed her hand to pull her away. His grip made her lose her balance and she fell on the floor, where she stopped resisting and tried to figure out what she had done to piss off the universe.
*Author's note: End Chapter 2! Sorry Rachyl's so angsty. I'm trying to set things up for some character development. And for those of you who are like, does this have anything to do with Jak and Daxter? My answer is: at this rate, I'm only going to have them overlap slightly. I want to introduce some more characters and sturf, but right now, unless I come up with better ideas (or a reader volunteers one) it's gonna be mostly Rachyl-centric.
Don't forget to read and review! I would love some more ideas, and pointers in my writing :) thanks for reading!
