It was too warm. Stifling really. Blair felt stuffy, like she was trying to breathe in a sauna that was definitely running too hot. Hospitals were always like that. It would be stranger if she hadn’t been uncomfortable at all after getting shot and presumably going into surgery. She was definitely going to sue that cop.
Blair groaned, not ready to open her eyes, as she felt the blankets around her. Too thick to be a normal hospital bed sheet, she noted. Maybe someone had brought it for her? While Blair appreciated it, she desperately wanted to peel it off of her sweaty body.
“Cory?” A voice spoke tentatively.
They were probably calling for whatever other patient Blair was roomed with but the sound banged down on her skull like a jackhammer and she unwittingly let out a louder groan, squeezing her eyes tighter as she rolled onto her side.
A choked sob came next and in response a different voice said, “I told you she’d be fine.”
A hand brushed the hair out of Blair’s eyes but she was so tired she couldn’t even flinch. Who was touching her?
Another stroke came, soothingly petting down her hair, “I know, I know it’s always like this, Laurence,” the first voice said softly. “I know she’s always fine, but I’ll always worry.”
“I wonder what it’ll be like this time,” The second voice, Laurence, Blair assumed, questioned.
Were these people talking about her? Blair didn’t know anyone named Laurence though, and the only person who would pat her head like this would be her mother who did not sound like the voice she heard. It was softer than her mothers, a bit higher in pitch.
Blair’s head rang in pain as she tried to roll back over. When she finally managed it, despite how the blanket had twisted itself around her legs, she cracked her eyes open. It wasn’t bright, maybe around evening, and Blair silently thanked God that there was no blinding sun to stab further at her ringing head.
Rather than the Sun, there was another issue and it was the three unknown faces that stared back at her.
The one who Blair assumed had been stroking her head moved to sit next to her. She was older, maybe her mom’s age, with a face that proudly boasted deep laugh lines, crows feet, and eyebrows pinched with a well practiced worry. She had her ashy blonde hair up in a modest bun and sported a long sleeved kirtle that was a beautiful sky blue.
“How are you feeling?” The woman asked as she brushed aside Blair’s hair again.
The gesture was affectionate, but Blair only felt confused as a low, “...uh,” slipped past her lips.
The man, Laurence, put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder, “she’s probably confused just like last time.”
Blair’s eyes turned to Laurence. He had a round face littered with tiny scars and deep set eyes, the same shade of dark olive green as the older woman had. He seemed quite bulky but Blair was having a hard time being able to tell for sure due to his loose linen shirt. His short hair was a mousy brown and styled so poorly that Blair thought he should sue whatever barber deemed it appropriate to let him leave the shop like that.
“Your hair sucks,” Blair groaned out unbidden, immediately feeling bad about it.
“WHAT?!” Laurence squawked, making Blair wince.
The third person, the young girl next to Laurence who stood nearly a whole foot taller than him, doubled over with laughter.
“Olivia!” The older woman scolded, “don’t laugh at your brother!”
Olivia tried to calm herself down as she wiped the tears out from her hazel eyes. She smiled broadly as she straightened herself, it was very pretty, Blair thought, it suited her slim face well. Olivia stood up sighed, tucking her wavy ash blonde hair behind her ears and out of her face as she patted down her sage green kirtle. She was almost the spitting image of a younger version of the older woman.
Why was everyone dressed like they were going to a renfaire?
Olivia sputtered out her last few giggles, “s-sorry,” she sighed happily as she wiped another tear from her eye, not sorry at all, “Cory’s right though, it sucks.”
Cory?
“Aren’t little sisters supposed to love their older brothers?” Laurence whined.
“I’m too old for that, creep,” Olivia teased before she turned her attention to Blair. “How are you feeling, Cory?”
Blair grimaced, “my head,” she started.
Laurence cast a thoughtful glance down at the older woman, “why don’t we give her some space, Ma?”
The woman’s gaze never lifted from Blair as she frowned sadly and swallowed another feeling down as she gave a pat to Blair’s stomach. “I’ll make you something to eat,” she said, “call me if you need anything, Sunshine.”
Laurence lent a hand to his mother as she stood from the bed and helped her to the door.
Olivia followed after them but stopped briefly to turn back to Blair and say, “thanks for waking up, little sis,” with a relieved smile on her face.
After the door had been closed for a while, Blair managed to sit up, thankful that the mattress was stiff enough to push up off of. The soft bed sheets were a pale beige, not at all the same as the tear away blue ones that Blair would have expected to see in a hospital. And the comforter, the comforter was so heavy. It took a considerable effort for Blair to heave it off of herself but when she finally did she leaned back against the wooden headboard with a loud sigh.
Blair brought her hands up to her line of sight.
Or, at least, she thought she did. These were not her hands. The fingers were long, slender, and calloused with long nail beds. They were not her hands. Blair’s hands were supposed to be small, with short fingers and hangnails and freckles and not calloused.
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