The Smallest Things (A Short Story)

Breathe

"I'm sorry."
"I'm so so sorry."
...
"Wake up, dàmnit!"
"Doctor? You there? She needs..."
"Really? I didn't know those people came here..."
"Hey, Ms. Darrow? You need to wake up, sweetie."
"Come on now, wake up."
...
When Lilliath awoke, she was in a hospital bed. This one was admittedly far less fancy then Sarah's, but it was a cot all the same. Sitting on the edge of the bed was Martha Jones, as real as anything. She seemed upset but her face brightened when she realized Lilliath was awake. "Hey there, sleepy head." Martha said in a light tone. Lilliath sat up quickly, the sudden change in position made her almost blind and she blinked a few times to remove the spots swimming before her eyes. She noticed the IV tube attached to her arm and moved to take it out. Martha's small, yet firm, hand stopped the removal process and Lilliath glanced up at her. "Not quite yet, love." Martha warned. Lilliath blinked and raised her free hand out of Martha's grip to rub her temples. "Wha-what happened to me?" She mumbled, massaging her head. Martha smiled wryly, "Dehydration was the main cause, but you also haven't eaten in what, fifteen hours? Not to forget the intense emotional pain you have inflicted on your body in the last day. It couldn't cope." Lilliath confirmed her suspicions with a nod. Martha voice grew gentler, "I understand you have been through a traumatic event but you need to take care of yourself. Otherwise you can't help Sarah." She moved to grasp the patients IV arm hand with the two of hers. Lilliath noticed her nails. They were neat and coated with a clear polish. The length allowed for tiny translucent off-white tips and the whole effect appeared somehow both girlish and professional. She stared at them instead of looking at Martha and when she spoke, it was also directed at her hands.
"Do you have children, Dr. Jones?" Lilliath asked. Martha seemed taken aback, eyes widening in slight shock. She answered with humour, "Why, do I look that old?" When it didn't receive a reply, her expression darkened, "I loved a man once, he was a traveller. God, even the way he asked me to explore the world with me was breathtaking," She stared wistfully off into the distance, "He was an incredible, amazing man. But he didn't have the time of day for me. Ah well. Love comes in many different forms. You married?" Her eyes gestured to the wedding ring. "Widowed." Was Lilliath's short reply.
"Ah. I'm sorry." Martha seemed embarrassed, she rubbed the back of her neck and avoided Lilliath's face. The clock went tick tock tick tock in the awkward silence that followed. When she put her hand down again, she slipped her other hand out of its embrace and lay them both to rest nearby. The removal made Lilliath's hand feel cold.
"It's okay." Lilliath mumbled. Martha met her gaze again, deep brown and hazel. "You need to sleep, dear." The condescending tone had crept back into her voice and it pissed Lilliath off. She wasn't a child. But she also had enough wits to not fly off at the first genuinely helpful person she'd met when coming here. So instead Lilliath responded with a short protest;
"Sarah." A slight whine had entered her voice although the collected parts of her brain agreed with Martha.
"Sarah will still be here when you get back, Lilliath," Martha said, "You have to have faith in our doctors here. We know how to do our jobs." Lilliath nodded, and then wiped a bare arm over her nose. She was confused, having hazily remembered throwing on a hoodie. She was still wearing her black shirt and underneath the think blanket she could feel the rough fabric of her jeans, and even farther down her ankle socks. Good. Do they hadn't played dress up with those horrid hospital gowns. Lilliath stared at the smooth cream of her arm. As if reading her (SATAN) mind, Martha looked pointedly at the door where the hoodie was hanging. Her shoes were placed slightly askew to the right. Lilliath began to notice the room around her. There were a few simple, fold-out cots, like her own, scattered about. There were no windows, and it gave the room a skeletal feel. The walls were the typical hospital white but combined with the feeling windowless rooms and empty beds gave her, it seemed suffocating.
"H-how long was I out for?" Lilliath inquired. Martha smoothed down the blanket over her knee. "Only a few minutes. The IV is giving you much-needed flui-" Martha's attention was directed to a beeping sound. She stood up, leaving the blanket cool in the absence of her body heat, and rifled in the pockets of her lab coat before pulling out a small device Lilliath recognized as a pager. She checked it, eyebrows knitting themselves into knots. "Fuck!" Martha said, venom in her words. She realized there was a patient in earshot and her angry expression dissipated instantly, giving way to guilt. "Sorry. You shouldn't of heard that. I have to head out. Dr. Evans and Dr. Lin have requested me for a meeting. I'll send Janine over to take you home, no-" Lilliath had shown signs of protesting and Martha adopted the standard position of one not taking no for an answer. She took a step back with one foot, dipped her head down slightly, eyes closed, and raised both palms facing Lilliath at her eye level, "No. You are in no position to drive yourself home. Doctor's orders. Text me when you get there, alright?" And with that, she walked to the door, cheerily waved at the young patient, opened it and left.
Lilliath was left with the airless room and the faint scent of Martha's perfume. Irritated, she tugged out the tube stuck in her arm which prompted a slight buzzing from a device on the monitor. She swung her legs out from under the sheet and left them dangling over the edge of the cot. Lilliath took a deep breath and used her hands to gently push herself off of the cot until her toes touched the tile. Even with her socks on, she shivered when her feet fully made contact with the icy floor.
Satisfied with her progress thus far, she moved shakily towards the door. After the first few steps, she realized what a bad, awful idea it had been. Black spots swam before her eyes and she nearly keeled over. Lilliath breathed in deeply through her nose for four seconds. Waited seven seconds. Exhaled through her mouth for eight. An old trick she learnt after years of panic attacks. Lilliath repeated his exercise until her vision cleared up. She had a hand clenched on the side of the cot and the other hanging by her side. She knew she needed to move slower to get to her goal. Okay. Lilliath did the breathing exercise and took a cautious step forward. Her vision stayed clear. Next step. Breathe. She felt her confidence rising as she removed her hand from the cot and felt alright. The next step she did a little faster. Bad idea. The black dots crowded her vision, like annoying bugs that didn't leave her alone. Lilliath felt the conscious word slipping away from her until suddenly she was wrapped in soft, strong arms. "There, there. Back to bed, love."
Janine Noir, a French nurse with a light accent had come, as per Martha's request, to look after the emotionally devastated patient in one of the storage rooms. Janine was in her late forties, auburn hair clipped into a casual bun. She was beautiful, but the kind of beauty that had withered over time. She had a long thin nose with a small knob at the top where she broke it horse riding and heavily lidded eyes. Her skin had taken a toll from years of smoking, which left her entire body all soft, plump curves. She pressed her already thin lips together as she half-helped, half-shoved the young mother into the cot. The sudden pressure on the bed caused it to shift back a little. It made Janine's job a lot harder but she wasn't about to complain. Lilliath regained enough sense to assist the nurse in helping her on to the cot. "Hello there, dear. Mart-, er, I mean, Dr. Jones instructed me to take you home. I just got off my shift and I owe her a favour, so let's get you home!" Janine seemed like a nice enough lady but Lilliath could tell it would be absolutely no use arguing with her. Janine told her to stay put so she did as the lady slipped out the half open door. When she came back it was with a wheelchair. Lilliath groaned inwardly but she didn't argue.  Janine's grip on her arm was powerful and she expert guided the woman into the chair. "Easy does it now. You're going to get out of here very soon." Lilliath protested silently as they wheeled down the seemingly endless halls, twisting her head  away from prying eyes. Janine had also put Lilliath's sneakers on for her, like a child. She had her hoodie back and it lay on her lap although she felt goose pimples snaking up and down her arm. She wanted to put it on but wasn't confident that Janine would even let her do that. Humiliated, she sat in a steamy silence.
Janine had apparently told the appropriate footwear for work department to fuck off because she wore shiny red heels. Not even something discreet like kitten heels. They were in the flesh--or should I say in the leather--stilettos.
Lilliath could hear the clickity clack of what she liked to call 'murder shoes'.  They were at an odd rhythm with the even sound of thin rubber wheels on tile. Because the rest of the hall was silent besides the occasional room, it was eerie. Lilliath recognized the entrance to the dreaded waiting hall where she dully remembered sitting for hours on end. Fat-Ass was back behind the receptionists desk with the same goddamn phone clutched in her red talons. She locked eyes with Lilliath and smiled. It was a creepy grin that didn't quite reach her eyes and revealed a row of yellowish teeth. Lilliath felt her cheeks burn and looked away, mortified.
And then the door burst open.