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Feb 9, Lincoln
Feb. 9th, 2018 02:26 pmIt's been over a month since she promised Elias she would try and get help. She's spent so long keeping everything bottled up, the pain in her leg steadily getting worse, but she hadn't realised exactly how much it was getting to her until New Year's Eve. Until she'd thought maybe there was a chance, the smallest chance, that one day this city might decide to use its magic whims and heal her.
It had been stupid to hope, but she couldn't shake the thought. Now, it sits even more heavily than it did before, the weight of dragging her useless leg behind her all the time. On some level she knows that she could go to a doctor, ask them if there's anything they can do. Abby had told her in no uncertain terms that her leg was never going to heal properly, but she'd always tried to help with the pain. Admitting that though seems like giving in somehow, even if she knows she wouldn't think the same if it were anyone else.
It's not the worst pain she's ever felt. She's been shot and stabbed and tasered and drilled into; Raven knows what pain is. It's the living with it day in and day out that sets her teeth on edge, that makes her have days where she doesn't know how to push through it. It's after one of those days that she gives in, leaves work a little early and heads for the nearest clinic. Maybe they won't be able to help at all, but at least she can tell herself she tried, tell Elias that she tried.
She's been sitting in the waiting room for half an hour when somebody suddenly pulls up the chair next to her. Raven offers him a brief, polite smile, but she doesn't pay him all that much attention until suddenly he's leaning across, motioning to her leg.
He tells her that he can tell she's in pain, and Raven is ready to blow him off when he pulls a small vial out of his pocket, shakes it so she can hear it rattle. He tells her it's pain medication, something the doctor gave him after he was injured in the Purge, tells her she looks like she needs it. She knows, on some level, that taking medication off strangers is just about the dumbest thing she could do, but the temptation gets to her. He promises her no more pain and Raven can't help the fact that it sounds alluring, that maybe she won't even have to go and admit aloud to anybody that she's struggling with this.
She takes the vial he's offering, puts it in her pocket and walks out. For the next two days she considers it, trying to decide if she's sunk this low. She should call Clarke, ask her opinion, but she doesn't, because she doesn't want Clarke to know. She doesn't want to admit it, but when the pain gets so bad she can hardly move from her bed she gives in, unscrewing the cap. It's not a pill that falls out when she shakes the bottle but a small disc, an infinity symbol etched onto it. It gives her pause for a second before she figures to hell with it, puts it behind her lips and swallows.
At first there's nothing, which doesn't surprise her. Raven forces herself to stand up, to distract herself by getting ready for a shift at work she probably shouldn't go to, and halfway through getting dressed she stops short. The pain is gone. She hadn't thought it possible, but when she moves her hips to walk there's no discomfort, nothing. Her leg is still useless but at least it's not hurting, and a startled laugh escapes her.
It's been two years since she was shot, and for the first time she can't feel the remnants of it. If she thinks about it, she'll realise she can't remember how it happened, either, but right now she couldn't care less. The pain is gone.
It had been stupid to hope, but she couldn't shake the thought. Now, it sits even more heavily than it did before, the weight of dragging her useless leg behind her all the time. On some level she knows that she could go to a doctor, ask them if there's anything they can do. Abby had told her in no uncertain terms that her leg was never going to heal properly, but she'd always tried to help with the pain. Admitting that though seems like giving in somehow, even if she knows she wouldn't think the same if it were anyone else.
It's not the worst pain she's ever felt. She's been shot and stabbed and tasered and drilled into; Raven knows what pain is. It's the living with it day in and day out that sets her teeth on edge, that makes her have days where she doesn't know how to push through it. It's after one of those days that she gives in, leaves work a little early and heads for the nearest clinic. Maybe they won't be able to help at all, but at least she can tell herself she tried, tell Elias that she tried.
She's been sitting in the waiting room for half an hour when somebody suddenly pulls up the chair next to her. Raven offers him a brief, polite smile, but she doesn't pay him all that much attention until suddenly he's leaning across, motioning to her leg.
He tells her that he can tell she's in pain, and Raven is ready to blow him off when he pulls a small vial out of his pocket, shakes it so she can hear it rattle. He tells her it's pain medication, something the doctor gave him after he was injured in the Purge, tells her she looks like she needs it. She knows, on some level, that taking medication off strangers is just about the dumbest thing she could do, but the temptation gets to her. He promises her no more pain and Raven can't help the fact that it sounds alluring, that maybe she won't even have to go and admit aloud to anybody that she's struggling with this.
She takes the vial he's offering, puts it in her pocket and walks out. For the next two days she considers it, trying to decide if she's sunk this low. She should call Clarke, ask her opinion, but she doesn't, because she doesn't want Clarke to know. She doesn't want to admit it, but when the pain gets so bad she can hardly move from her bed she gives in, unscrewing the cap. It's not a pill that falls out when she shakes the bottle but a small disc, an infinity symbol etched onto it. It gives her pause for a second before she figures to hell with it, puts it behind her lips and swallows.
At first there's nothing, which doesn't surprise her. Raven forces herself to stand up, to distract herself by getting ready for a shift at work she probably shouldn't go to, and halfway through getting dressed she stops short. The pain is gone. She hadn't thought it possible, but when she moves her hips to walk there's no discomfort, nothing. Her leg is still useless but at least it's not hurting, and a startled laugh escapes her.
It's been two years since she was shot, and for the first time she can't feel the remnants of it. If she thinks about it, she'll realise she can't remember how it happened, either, but right now she couldn't care less. The pain is gone.
