"I'm battle-scarred, I am working oh so hard to get back to who I used to be." (Near To You - A Fine)
Chapter 3. The Scars that Lie Beneath
When Allison wakes up in the hospital, she cries, like an idiot, because for a moment, she thought it was over.
The pages being scattered, the gunshot, the fall and Simon.
She'd been hearing him all her life and finally seeing him, to her, gave her what she needed to feel validated, to feel a little less crazy than what she sometimes thought she was.
Now?
There are no voices, just the beeping sound from the machine, needles piercing her skin and a soreness covering every inch of her body.
She may not be easy to kill, but she can still hurt – she hurts everywhere.
It takes a couple of weeks before she's released.
Her brother visits her once – he would've stayed longer, but he has a family of his own – and her mother also visits, her father absent – they've been separated for years, but they refuse to discuss things like that in front of her, fearing it might trigger her schizophrenia.
She doesn't tell them she knows she's adopted – in a way, she's always known, even before Dani – but part of her wonders if they ever thought she'd find the truth on her own.
They've always treated her like such a fragile thing when, in truth, she's been stronger than even she expected herself to be; she survived Stark's form of torture and balcony view into hell.
It's now that she feels weak – depleted – and lost.
Allison feels relieved once they stop treating her like an invalid and finds it ironic when they make a comment on how weird she's acting when, for the first time, there are no voices.
It's all a memory now – it's over – and yet, why does she feel like she aches for the voices, for the past, for the purpose she used to have?
She thinks of Simon during the day – wonders if he's watching over her still – and thinks of John at night, before bed, looking for him in the shadows, but he never shows.
Why should he?
He got what he wanted and there's really nothing else to bother with – nothing he would want from her.
It doesn't stop her from looking.
She continues to work with the church – they're always welcoming – and every day is routine.
It's a complete change from what her life was like a month ago.
And yet, her mind carries out the same tune. There are no voices to complete the symphony, but the melody remains, needing just one instrument to keep it alive.
A memory.
It wouldn't be long before another instrument joined in – her dreams – and, then, she would wish for the voices instead.
All her dreams would revolve around John – terrifying dreams – and in those dreams, who she is and was has no importance.
The only thing that would matter is who he wanted her to be and that, to her, is more terrifying than being hunted by an army of angels.