swerved | (no subject)

There are screws and wires holding what's left of her kneecap together. It will be weeks before she can put any weight on her leg at all, let alone walk, and she's already been told that she'll need assistance when the time comes, that once they can take the cast off, she'll need a brace, probably crutches or a cane for — her own addition — God only knows how long. Though it hurts still, dulled by the painkillers they've given her but present all the same, it's that she can't get out of her head. There's a sick sort of sense of déjà vu to it, reminiscent of her recovery after the car crash, only with far more weight to it, more finality. At least she'd been fully mobile again once she recovered, even if her potential career was shot to hell. That one little chance, that sliver of hope she'd had that maybe, just maybe, she could rebuild her strength and get back to studying, is shot to hell now.

All because of an actual demon that nearly ripped her family apart.

They've brought her a tray of food, but she's barely managed to pick at it, too tired and too sore and feeling like there's a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. It isn't exactly like hospital food is ideal, anyway, and if nothing else, she resolves when she gets out of here to find and eat the biggest, greasiest cheeseburger she can, the sort of thing she wouldn't have wanted to touch when she was still dancing. She's pretty sure she deserves it.

In a day or two, they'll let her out, but for the time being, she's still stuck in bed, watching soap opera reruns in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to keep her mind occupied by something other than the state of her knee. She turns the volume down, though, when she catches a glimpse of movement in her peripheral vision and turns to see her mother coming in. At least that's one thing she can say for this mess of a situation. The demon is gone; if she'd had any lingering doubts, Father Marcus put them to rest. She doesn't question anymore that he knows exactly what he's talking about.

"So we're going to match soon," she says in lieu of a greeting, a weak attempt at humor, one corner of her mouth curling up. "How's the outside world?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It would be," Angela said carefully, not wanting to sound too eager. She knew that if she pushed too hard, Kat would likely pull away from her, and that was the last thing Angela wanted. If they couldn't have their whole family there with them, they had to do everything they could to make sure they had each other.

"You can even keep the other place, if you'd like," Angela suggested, "That way, when you're ready, you won't have to apartment hunt."

"Yeah. Okay," Kat says, careful to pause before speaking, the words thoughtful, carefully measured. Truth be told, it's an easier offer to accept than she thinks it probably should be, but, well, everything has changed, and she's going to have a long few weeks — months — ahead of her. Reluctant as she might be to accept any help, in this instance, she knows she'll probably need it, and she can't deny that there is an appeal in being as close to what she has of home here as she can. Before long, she's sure she'll want to move out, settle into her own place, get back on her feet, literally speaking, but that's a ways off, and without her father and Casey here, too... It doesn't seem like the worst idea in the world. "I think that could work."

"Really?" Angela said, struggling not to sound too relieved. Kat was a grown woman, but Angela had never quite gotten the delicate balance required when talking with her daughters when they were teenagers, and the anxieties still lingered: Too much attention and mothering and eagerness and they were guaranteed to shut down, but not enough, and they became sullen and anxious and resentful.

"Good. I-- I'm glad to hear that." Thank you, she didn't say, but it was obvious enough that she meant it.

"I mean, if everything they've said is true," Kat says, tipping her head in the direction of the door as if to indicate the medical staff, "then this is gonna take a while." There's no getting around that, too, she's sure. It's worth it, she knows it must be, but she still can't help dreading what the next few months are going to be like. The first time around was bad enough. This is going to be a different matter entirely. "So it would probably make sense."