Isolation - 2

It took another hour for me to bend my legs and lift them from the bed without collapsing from exhaustion. Frustration bubbled in my chest, and I huffed, slamming my hands on the infirmary bed in frustration.

"This is taking too long," I muttered, head whipping toward the door to study for any sign of the doctor. "I won't have time to move around the ward at this rate."

Look, you got your legs moving. That's a good start. It might be better for us to look around at night anyway. We won't be easily spotted by the doctor, and we already know she leaves the infirmary at night to return to her quarters.

Right. You're right. Night would be better. I'll eat as much as I can and pull the IV out after she leaves.

The tension in my shoulders eased, and I relaxed back against the pillows. All I needed was patience. Andromeda would come and feed me, take more blood, and hook up the IV bag before leaving me for the night. If I could stay awake after she left, remove the IV and stop the poison from flowing into my body, and regain my movement a few hours after lights out... I would be able to use the cover of darkness and the empty infirmary for my escape.

Until then, keep moving your legs and feet, and then rest. We can do it.

--

I did as Arya suggested. I practiced moving my legs for another thirty minutes before Doctor Andromeda was set to come to check on me. By the time I stopped, I could lift my knees to my chest and sit up on the bed completely. My body ached like a thousand needles pricked my nerves, and a hundred pounds of rock weighed me down. But I was mobile.

For the first time since Phillipe brought me to the doctor, I felt strong enough to almost stand. Almost.

I knew better than to try that before the doctor returned for her rounds. If she had found me crumpled on the ground, my chances of getting out would have dropped to zero. She wanted a compliant victim, and I was going to make her believe she had one.

Just before Doctor Andromeda returned, I smoothed out the covers around my legs to hide where I'd been moving. I wiped the sweat from my brow and closed my eyes, feigning sleep.

The doors to the isolation ward creaked open, and the metal cart rattled with her every step. The sharp sound nearly made me flinch, but I steadied my breathing and remained still.

"Wake up, Aurelia. It's time to eat." Doctor Andromeda's shadow fell over me. Her cold, expressionless face greeted me when I opened my eyes, and a wave of nausea flooded my body. Like a reflex. A Pavlovian reaction to the woman who had been making me sick my entire life.

I faked a weak, but adoring smile, and she could barely suppress her grimace. How had I never seen that before? Her disgust. Her hatred for me. It was so obvious once I finally saw the truth. I should have known sooner, should have seen through her "good doctor" disguise.

But I was a child. A lonely, scared, fragile child who needed someone to protect her. A baby who believed that the first kind eyes that looked down on her weren't those of a hungry serpent. I'd never make that mistake again.

"Hello, Doctor. Thank you for taking care of me," I said, voice strained and weak. Unfortunately, that wasn't acting. I desperately needed the food and water she brought me. And I hated it. Being reliant upon my kidnapper and poisoner was not a position I wanted to remain in any longer. But for the sake of my midnight plan with Arya, I'd endure and pretend I adored her.

"I'm just doing my job. Here. Sit up and let's get this over with."

She can't even pretend to be kind anymore. Venomous, evil snake.

I struggled to push myself upright, despite having done so with ease a few minutes earlier. Straining sold the act; I would have done anything to keep up the show. Anything to keep her from suspecting I've got something planned. After a few seconds of grunting and grimacing, I settled upright on the pillows and gave her another weak smile.

She dropped the tray onto my legs. The spoon clattered against the chipped porcelain of the bowl, and sludge sloshed inside. Today's soup was especially foul, but I'd eat it. As much of it as I could stomach. I needed the fuel, the strength. This wasn't about taste or hunger. It was survival.

Holding my breath, I scooped spoonful after spoonful of the foul stuff into my mouth and swallowed fast, barely chewing unless absolutely necessary. It was a practice of finding Zen and pure focus to swallow food without letting it touch my tongue.

"Looks like your appetite has improved..." Doctor Andromeda smirked down at me. It was a dark, cruel thing that didn't reach her cold, glassy eyes. Her eyes... they used to be a warm brown that made me feel safest in the world. But as I glanced up at her, I realized.

Her eyes look almost black in this light.

What?

Doctor Andromeda had brown eyes and auburn hair. I remember it, I swear. But now...

Her eyes are much darker. And her hair... those roots are dark as well. This...

Isn't Doctor Andromeda.

The realization sent a jolt of fear through my body. But I would not let it show. Whoever this was standing over me was not the doctor I knew. Not the one from my childhood. Not the one who protected me and cared for me. This was a stranger wearing her face and her scent. And the worst part was...

There was no telling how long they'd been pretending to be her. When did they take her place? And why?