A tube tickled down her nose, into her throat. She had no idea how far the tube went. She felt more nourished, but no more clarity than before. Just less hungry.
The drips made her drowsy sometimes and she would drift and float away. Sometimes they woke her up just enough to be aware of muffled voices. The words didn't make sense to her, but that was because she didn't care enough to comprehend.
Her muscles atrophied with each passing day. Sores developed. But she didn't feel it. She felt nothing. Nothing.
"Long term facility."
"Seattle."
"Help she needs."
More movement. Gliding. Movement. Lifting. New smells. Antiseptic.
"Physical therapist."
The doctor entered and tried to ask questions, but she didn't need to respond. She was in her bubble of pain and there she would stay. He spoke to her like he knew her. His accent sounded familiar, but she didn't care enough to place it.
The nurse came by later to adjust her drips. She stood still as a statue by Bella's bed, sobbed a bit, then continued with her task. The nurse's hand hovered inches from her face as if to touch it, then stopped and sighed.
Another doctor came in on another day. Her emotions began to swirl. She vomited all over herself from the disconcerting change. Nearly choked to death. The first doctor came in and sucked the vomit from her mouth with a tool. A new nurse, tall and slender, lifted her onto a gurney as yet another tiny nurse changed her bedding. The slender nurse muttered curses as she angrily changed Bella's clothing.
"His mess. He should clean it up."
"Best idea ever!"
Darkness cloaked her body once more, the stillness bringing the nightmares. Her screams had changed to whimpers, her arms no longer flailing. Now, they twitched.
"My best friend."
"I miss you. We all do"
She woke to a female voice, the one who changed her bedding.
"Didn't mean to."
"Weak."
"Selfish."
Was the nurse talking to her, or about someone else? Weak? Of course she was weak. Selfish? Hardly.
Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter.
"Didn't want to leave."
"Forced our hand."
Don't care. Don't care. Do. Not. Care!
Bella tuned out, letting the voice blend into the white noise. If she didn't listen, she didn't have to care. She was beyond caring anymore.
The doctor joined the nurse. Her emotions swirled again.
"Not going to work."
"I've got to try."
Vomit choked her again. She gasped for breath.
"He'll come. He'll make it better. You'll see."