Honey Springfield was called the Handlers 'favourite' - a nickname she despised right down to the bones of her very existence - almost as much as she despised the woman herself. No one ever looked closer enough to realise that it was given to her fo...
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Honey was only half aware of the talking above her as she faded in and out of consciousness. Time passed strangely, but she knew she was lying on something soft and couldn't help the fatigue taking over, along with all of the exhaustion and, likely, a bit of bloodloss.
The words around her never come close enough for her to understand, or maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but she was at least sure that Fives voice is among them.
Her dreams plagued her with panic and a sense of foreboding. She found herself running from something, no air left in her lungs and no light ahead of her to see where she is going. A hand latched at her jacket and pulled her back, and then she became only concious of pain. It started achingly at first, where she was most vulnerable. Her bad knee, like a hand clawing at her skin until it was bone deep and twisting. She was sure she could smell lavender perfume as the hands moved, like vices at each of her wrists, nails digging under her skin like knives.
Honey flinched where she lay, muscles tensing, but didn't stay concious long enough to fight the terror away.
Her skin was hot and aching and she was suddenly alone in a dark room. She couldn't see her own hand in front of her and warily backed away, but the claws were soon back and pulling her in a direction she didn't want to go.
When she tried to shout, no sound left her throat, and when she did wake up properly, it was in a panic.
Her heart pounded in her temples as she jolted back from hushed voices, her shoulder pressing against soft couch cushions.
Her vision swam at first, and she had to close her eyes again to settle her nausia. She only knew she was in an unfamiliar room, and she didn't know how long she had been unconcious for and that was bad.
There was a tightness of bandages beneath her sleeves and her body stiffened in realisation, the need to explain herself dying at the lump in her dry throat. But then the faint smell of lavender reached her and suddenly her mind was sent reeling. Its so fleeting she almost missed it over the scent of the lukewarm coffee sat on the coffee table, but she was sure as day that it was there.
And then someone was touching her sleeve and trying to push it up to her elbow and Honeys body reacted before she could even realise what she was doing.
A choked whimper tore from her throat as she ripped the hands off of her and kickrd out at the person standing over her on pure instinct. Her vision cleared just in time to see the British woman trip over the corner of the table and hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Her eyes flickered uneasily around the room as she jolted upright, feeling as though a hand was tightening at her rapidly pacing heart, and the scent of lavender burned through her senses as she curled in on herself, drawing her arm close to her chest.
Diego hurried to help the groaning woman up.
Five sat on the couch opposite and didn't make a move to stand, but there was a flicker of concern on his features as he ignored Lila and stared right at Honey.
