There was nothing in the black - it was simple and sweet, but she could hear voices in the background, disturbing.
"Are you drunk, Chanelle? Where is Dillian?" so loud.
"Dillian's inside." she hated that voice.
"Why won't she come see me?" it was hard to tell who was who.
"She's sleeping." so monotonous.
"It smells like blood... let me in!" it was so dark.
"We can't disturb her." there was confusion.
"Chanelle! Let me in, now!" and then pain.
Her body jerked as her eyes flew open, her body protesting as all the cuts on her body began to open again, burning and aching. A scream tore out of her throat, torturing her as the skin of her cheeks tore further in result. Tears stung against the wounds, but all that mattered was that everything hurt and everything was so damn scary.
There was what sounded like a clatter, the crashing of a body against a wall, and then there was a worried voice and gentle hands taking care of her. Warmth that she had not felt the night before, such bliss in the midst of everything.
Her body couldn't stop shaking, and every horrendous sob she made hurt her even more. Beyond her dulled awareness, Ms. Cadet shoved past the door and made way to her car, worry in her eyes. Chanelle stood, watching from her doorway, lifting nothing but a hand to wave farewell as Dillian was driven to the hospital by another lady.
Darkness seemed much better than the redness of everything, but the lady driving insisted that she stay awake, because "you might never wake up again" and that was frightening. She fought to stay awake, and her vision was undeniably blurry as she looked around, hardly able to focus on any details. It was too silent.
When she came aware again, they were holding scary needles, and there was an empty whiteness everywhere that burned into her retinas. Shouts, calling for a doctor, were loud and made the pounding of her head hurt even more. Everything was hurting, aching, and all she wanted was for it to all go away.
Somehow, her wish was heard and answered.
"She's aware again! Somebody get the anesthesia before she feels anything!" her head throbbed and her body felt heavy, unable to move. Without warning, the prick of a needle touched her skin and she was out like a light, completely unaware.
The surgeons continued with their medical care, removing shards of glass that had implanted themselves into her body, and stitching up everything that was too deep to heal properly on it's own. A silent agreement had caused them to leave the glasgow smile for last - it would need proper stitching and treatment for her to ever be able to move her mouth without ripping the wound open again. Had she gone and torn the wound open again, it was likely that it would not heal properly into a scar, for the deep cut would constantly bleed every time she spoke.
They took their time, checking over every wound and making sure everything was properly cared for, before they got to her cheeks. Slowly, a needle passed through a bit of skin, pulling over the wound, and they carefully threaded over everything, the process very delicate and precise with the stitches, seeing as they didn't want to prohibit movement of her mouth, however, the wounds did need to be stitch closed to prevent agitating the wound further.
She awoke to the feeling of a hand running through her hair, gently tugging at the strands and combing through them. The hand must have belonged to the voice that was humming a soft lullaby, cheery and sweet, enticing her with the wonderful sound. Trying to turn to see the owner of the hand and voice, she was met with extraordinary pain, as if she had ran a triathlon without stretching before or after, and that was the consequence.
"Morning, sleeping beauty!" the voice said, obviously belong to a woman.
Her heart ached and the words brought forth a memory that she couldn't place, and everything hurt again. The warm tenderness was familiar yet a distant feeling that seemed to provoke her. She tilted her head slightly, looking up to the face of a lady she must have met before. Frieda's mother?
Dillian tried to speak, but she was instantly shushed, unable to move her mouth with the bandages around the lower part of her face. "You're not supposed to speak anytime soon. Tomorrow, they'll get started on having you learn to write everything and you'll be staying on a wheelchair. When they think you're okay to move, they'll get you to stand and you'll carry a notebook of your own. You won't be allowed to leave the hospital without me or a nurse, because you absolutely must not hurt yourself anymore nor get rid of the IV." Ms. Cadet said, resuming with the soft combing of Dillian's long hair.
Unable to do much other than nod slightly in understanding, the young child returned to a restless sleep, her dreams quickly fading into nightmares of memories that were evading her.