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lee - october 6th 2015
Oct. 7th, 2015 06:59 pmOut of all the gods-damned things she expected getting out of that hospital room, this wasn't even on the list. The scrape of metal on metal happened every single time she moved and it was getting on her nerves. The handcuff was too tight for her to dislocate her thumb to get out of it, and the welds on the bedframe were solid enough that there was no way it was coming off that way.
It's a small miracle that she hasn't been drugged again. The pain's still eating away at her, and what's worse than that's the exhaustion. When she'd punched the orderly, she'd managed to frak up her hand and open her stitches, but a oh-so-helpful nurse had patched her up once she was cuffed and left behind. She's got new bandages on her wounds, one where she'd pulled out her IV, and one on her hand, and not of it makes a single bit of sense.
She's pretty sure that there's a guard on the door, and what Kara doesn't know is that there's a quasi-procedure in place for this. When people come from other places, and are hurt, and moreover if they're behaving erratically. Hold them in custody, they get a public defender, a psych consult, and then the determination is made if they should press charges.
Rattling the cuff again, Kara stares up at the ceiling, her jaw clenched in anger and fear. This place is impossible. It's impossible, and she's been trying to figure out if she's seeing things like Roslin, if she'd up and died-- and that's what finally gets her to speak, her voice low in the hospital room where they'd taken away anything that could be within reach and used as a weapon. "Lords, I don't know if this is supposed to be some kind of test, but I'm running on empty on how to take this. If there was some kind of, I don't know, directions or something... Just figured I'd ask."
A split second after the last word dies in her throat, there's a knock on the door. Blinking in surprise, Kara mutters, "Thanks," before she pushes herself up a little with a wince, and speaks up. "Come in."
It's a small miracle that she hasn't been drugged again. The pain's still eating away at her, and what's worse than that's the exhaustion. When she'd punched the orderly, she'd managed to frak up her hand and open her stitches, but a oh-so-helpful nurse had patched her up once she was cuffed and left behind. She's got new bandages on her wounds, one where she'd pulled out her IV, and one on her hand, and not of it makes a single bit of sense.
She's pretty sure that there's a guard on the door, and what Kara doesn't know is that there's a quasi-procedure in place for this. When people come from other places, and are hurt, and moreover if they're behaving erratically. Hold them in custody, they get a public defender, a psych consult, and then the determination is made if they should press charges.
Rattling the cuff again, Kara stares up at the ceiling, her jaw clenched in anger and fear. This place is impossible. It's impossible, and she's been trying to figure out if she's seeing things like Roslin, if she'd up and died-- and that's what finally gets her to speak, her voice low in the hospital room where they'd taken away anything that could be within reach and used as a weapon. "Lords, I don't know if this is supposed to be some kind of test, but I'm running on empty on how to take this. If there was some kind of, I don't know, directions or something... Just figured I'd ask."
A split second after the last word dies in her throat, there's a knock on the door. Blinking in surprise, Kara mutters, "Thanks," before she pushes herself up a little with a wince, and speaks up. "Come in."
