changing fates | joel miller

004

3 weeks later

TW: Mention of Suicide

the greeting
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Crinkling her nose at the smell of food, Grace's eyes barely opened, seeing rays of the sun glaring back at her. Her back was aching from sleeping on the hard wooden flooring, and the pit of her stomach nearly screamed in agony — still healing from the stab wound she'd done to herself just a few weeks prior.

"Eat." A familiar voice coursed into her ears, soon being followed by the click of a pen. "But, first, stand."

Grace didn't move at first, letting her fingers press into the lining of wood. Pain had tangled through every inch of her, igniting a wave of heat through the more obvious of places. Her injury, if that's what you wanted to call it, was throbbing at her short breaths, trying to overcome the infection that was attacking it.

Grace tilted her head in the direction of the woman, letting her eyes fully open as she saw the clipboard in her hand. And with a small groan, she pushed herself up into a stance — her left hand falling onto her stomach.

"Name?"

The everyday first question. Grace had rolled her eyes at it, wanting anything but to go through this again.

"I don't know, Barbara."

"Right," The woman nodded, clearly not amused with the false name leaving her lips. "So you are.." She flipped back a few pages, "Ava, Elizabeth, Marianne, Emma.." She began to list, "and Barbara."

Grace shrugged, "my mom was an indecisive lady."

"I'm sure she was," She barely commented back, bringing the original page back to her sight. "Count clearly from one to ten."

"Oh, we could be here for awhile," Grace mocked, "What language? I can do Spanish, German-" She stopped her sentence short, raising her brow as she pushed out her free hand, beginning to sign them.

"Engli- English will do," The woman answered, her expression staying blank. "English."

"Oh," she shrugged, hiding the wince on her face, "Well, I'm a little rusty but I can try—"

"—There's no need for that."

Both the woman and Grace turned in the direction of the new voice, watching her stand by the doorway. She was adjusting her ponytail, staring at the two before she made her way inside. Grace curiously watched her, seeing her lean over to whisper something in the other's ear. And she watched as the first girl nodded in response, immediately leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Grace took a step back, not making it far as the chain around her foot stopped her — and she cocked her head at the lady, feeling a frown forming on her lips.

"My name's Marlene."

There was something familiar with her. Like a flash of a memory was trying to enter her mind. Maybe it was the voice, or it could be the face. But Marlene was not a total stranger to her — that she knew.