Hey everyone! So, I decided to continue this and make it a multichap instead of a one-shot. You're welcome. ;) I don't know how long it'll go exactly, but we'll see what happens. I'll try to update regularly.
It took what felt like years to convince herself to open her eyes.
Elphaba was first aware of how strikingly, incredibly white the world was. Boring, honestly. Plain. Not much to look at. But blinding. It hurt. At that thought, the pain exploded in her head, like just waiting for permission. Her tongue was sandpaper. Her eyes were trying to scrape their way to her medulla. Was this what being dead really felt like?
The horrifying white started to morph, fade, into figures. Humans? Animals? Angels?
"It's a miracle she survived."
Elphaba squinted, then instantly regretted it. She shut her eyes quickly and the white disappeared in a painful flash, giving way to cool darkness. Oh, how she wished it would swallow her up. But – hadn't it already?
"Her sister says this isn't the first time."
She's aware of her breathing now. And the smell. Something sterile. Chemical.
"She really should be transferred once she's well enough."
Blood. There had been a lot of blood. Everywhere. On the counter. On the knife. On her.
"What about the other girl? The one that brought her?"
Galinda. Screams. Tears. Pleading. Blonde curls. Blood.
"She was in hysterics, last I saw her. She should be okay, though. The nurse was talking to her, calming her."
"She and this oddity must have been friends."
"Does she know that she's alive?"
Alive. I'm alive.
Elphaba inhaled and her eyes opened to the blinding whiteness once more, the pounding in her head growing deafening. The figures sharpened into people. Serious people, and lots of them, also wearing white. What was it about this place and that color?
But this place looked familiar. Too familiar. The panic in her chest preceded rational thought and she began to struggle. Her wrist screamed. She didn't care.
Hands pressed against her, pushing her, gasping, back down.
"Miss Elphaba." said one of the angels. Men. They were men. "Miss Elphaba, lay still, please."
"This isn't heaven," Elphaba panted. "It's a hospital."
"Yes," said a lady soothingly. "Yes, dear, you're in a hospital. You –"
"It's a hospital," Elphaba's breathing picked up. Hospitals. White. So much white. "Hell. I'm in hell!"
Galinda hadn't stopped shaking.
She'd stopped crying. She'd stopped screaming. Only after a nurse had taken her aside and talked to her for ten minutes. But she kept shaking.
And now it had been four hours and forty-seven minutes of trembling and panic and insomnia and she still hadn't heard anything. She knew she shouldn't have left the hospital. But she had no choice. They made her. They made her leave. They made her abandon Elphie. Elphie ...
She choked on her throat for the twelfth time since she had walked in and seen everything, every little detail she didn't want to think about, didn't want to know. But that didn't matter. All she knew now was that it was currently 7:26 am on a cold Thursday and there was blood in her kitchenette and her Elphie was dead and the memories, the questions, and the empty, ruffled bed beside her were killing her, too.
Breathe. Stop staring at the door. Breathe. Stop staring at her bed. Breathe. Stop thinking. Just breathe.
She jumped inches into the air at the sound of her phone vibrating and nearly fell as she tripped over herself to get to it.
"Is this Miss Galinda Upland?"
"Yes, yes, is this Mercy Hospital?"
"Yes, miss. I'm calling to inform you that –"
Galinda's heart hitched.
"that Miss Elphaba Thropp is alive."
She felt like she was floating. For a moment, she had been so tense that the trembling had paused, but now as she slumped in relief it resumed, more violent than ever. She almost dropped the phone.
"She is very weak and under sedation as of now, but she should be waking up from that shortly."
"You may come see her briefly, if you –"
"Yes!" Galinda's voice was thrilled, tired, and still terrified, but bursting with relief. "Yes. I'll be right there. Thank you."
She hung up, scrambled out of bed and glanced in the mirror. She had put on her makeup at about six in the morning as a way to distract herself, and it had worked, for fifteen minutes. Now she had successfully hidden the tears and the bags under her eyes – but nothing could conceal the haunted look that seemed to permeate her being.
Quickly, she turned away, took her purse, and rushed out, closing the door behind her.
Apologies for the abrupt ending, but the chapter was getting too long and I wasn't sure how to split it up. :) please review! Constructive criticism is very much invited.