The next two weeks dragged by in an agonizing, sterile blur of white walls, tasteless cafeteria food, and the relentless, indifferent ticking of the wall clock.
Roxy's body, resilient and stubborn, slowly knit itself back together. The heavy bleeding stopped, the agonizing cramps dulled into a manageable ache, and her legs finally regained the strength to support her weight.
The doctors proudly declared her physical recovery a success. They unhooked her from the IVs, handed her a stack of discharge papers, and offered her tight, pitying smiles.
But mentally, Roxy was nothing more than a ghost haunting her own flesh.
She walked down to the billing department on the first floor. She stood at the linoleum counter, completely numb, and handed over her bank card. The massive, crippling sum of a two-week terrestrial hospital stay completely drained her savings, but she didn't care.
Money meant absolutely nothing.
