she was scared.

even afterwords. after she was patched up. after the bullet had been removed. she was still scared. what if he came back in again? what if he was still angry? or, worse - what if it were her father, disappointed in how she handled the situation?but what would she tell him? that she didn't know what was happening? that she wasn't conscious? no one would believe that, would they?

she sat on a bed in the medical ward, one that she was used to seeing others stay. the bullet had been removed, harmlessly, and pokemon had gotten to work to recovering their doctor. unfortunately, it was still going to be a bit for her to fully get back in shape. though the damage was being tended to, her confusion and fear still lingered.

and when someone else enters the room, she instinctively shuts her eyes and attempts to hide under the blankets like a child (like blankets were going to save her from whatever monster she was anticipating). it wasn't until she hears a warm voice reach out to her, did she slowly and hesitantly lower the sheets, looking up to a man who gave her a patient gaze.

"o-oh, uhm.." she starts, stammers, trying to find the words. "a-a bit better. but it still hurts.."

marcel maeda

if she could, she would hug her knees.

unfortunately, one of them was still out of commission. it leaves her with only hugging the blanket close to herself, all while quietly eyeing the man then averting her gaze to the bed. "w-well.." how does she put it? does she just say the truth? what other option did she have? she just doesn't like saying it, because she doesn't know exactly what it is. she doesn't know how to explain it.

"g-gavin.. came into the room with mcflurry. sh-she was all bloodied, a-and.." she stammers, trying to find the words while avoiding having to conjure up the mental image "i w-was trying to find a way to help her. b-but there was so much blood, i-i.." she clutches the blanket, tears welling up again.

"i-i don't remember. i think i d-drifted off? and when i came to, g-gavin h-had a gun to my chest.."

marcel maeda

"i-i know.." she sighs in defeat, gently fidgeting between her fingers while trying to find the words.

"if it's a small amount, i can usually handle it. l-like a small cut, or a scratch.." but anything more than that, and she'd sooner find herself drifting off and coming to with no recollection. there's always a pocket of time where she doesn't recognize what she did, especially when it came to her father.

wendy takes the tissues, eyes still avoiding him altogether while nodding her head in gratitude. "mmn.. this happens when i'm.. exposed to a lot of blood.." she gently presses the tissue against her eyes to dry them "s-specifically when i do operations. i-i usually have to hear that it works out in the end, but.." thinking on it, she pities the assistants.

"usually, the people around me look.. unsettled once i come to. i-i can never remember what happened."

marcel maeda