After enduring an ear-full from one of the doctors, Leo wheeled Maria back into her room.
"Did you have a good day?"
She took a moment to respond.
"I'm not sure. We'll have to get out again."
He gently massaged her nape as he chuckled at the remark.
"Sounds like a plan. For now, let's get you a warm bath. How does that sound?"
She grinned and nodded, "Sounds acceptable."
Some time later, she found herself back in bed. Much cleaner and warmer than before.
Leo had brought her one of his shirts. A white, long-sleeve collared shirt.
She smiled as she felt her father's warmth from the shirt hug her.
For once, it felt like he'd never have to leave.
He rolled her sleeves up neatly so her hands could stick out.
"I have to go now, dear. Are you comfortable?"
She nodded.
"Mhm."
He lingered in the doorway for a moment, as if he had mountains more to say, but instead he offered a simple smile.
"Good night, Maria."
She forced a smile and waved him off.
"Good night, father."
The door eased shut as he slipped out of the room.
Maria sat there, staring at the empty frame.
The ambience of the hospital around her had slowly become louder, as if the walls had lost their soundproofing effect.
After some time, she silently gazed back down at the book that covered her lap.
She gulped, the sheer weight and size intimidating her once more.
But wasn't that what freedom was supposed to feel like?
Impossible. Heavy. Yet thrilling within thought.
Either way, it was the only escape she had.
Before taking the book, she took a wooden ruler from the table beside her and used it to reach a nearby light switch.
As she flipped the switch, the array of incandescent bulbs lining the ceiling went out.
Her room was left with a pleasant, blue glow.
The moon was just bright enough for her to properly read.
She brushed the title with a soft hand, repeating it to herself.
"Prince of Axiom."
With hesitation, she had begun to turn the heavy cover.
Suddenly, a pain shot through her diaphragm. Breathing itself caused a heavy ache to swell within her.
She knew her condition would remind her of its existence sometime today.
The aching within her chest festered more and more, growing into an excruciating pain.
It felt as though hundreds of pins had struck her lungs every time she tried to take oxygen in.
She curled in on herself, desperately struggling for air as tears flooded her eyes as the pain drastically worsened.
She frantically reached for the call bell beside her bed, using all of her strength to ring it a couple times.
A nurse entered the room, a scowl of annoyance written on her face.
"One ring will suffice, Maria."
In far too much pain to respond properly, Maria grunted weakly in pain as she tossed and turned.
"Stay still!"
The nurse roughly took her arm, forcing it straight as she stuck an IV into her forearm.
Some sort of medicine traveled through the thin, translucent pipe and into Maria's bloodstream.
She slowly calmed down, her head drenched in sweat. Her chest unsteadily raised and lowered.
Her lips weakly parted as she muttered, "Water, please."
A moment passed, no response.
She opened her eyes slowly, looking over to find the room empty. The nurse had already left.
Her eyes lingered on the door for a while as the residual pain continued to subside.
Regaining her strength, she forced herself back up to a sitting position.
A weak cough escaped her mouth, scorching her throat with a desert-like heat.
She let out a slight grunt as she lifted her heavy arm, aiming for the call bell once more.
Her hand came to stop before it could reach the button.
Thoughts of her father and the busy nurses filled her head at that moment.
She felt as though she was nothing more than a burden to these people.
No symptom of her illness could hurt worse than that idea.
The book still remained on the bed, beside her. The strength she had to read it before had now vanished.
Freedom was within reach, and yet she still couldn't grasp it.
She gave up, her arm fell back down to the bed as her head dropped.
Long, black hair covered her face.
Her arms trembled as she hugged herself in silence for some time.
Finally, the sounds from outside the room died down and all that remained was the buzzing from the lights and slight creaking of medicinal machinery beside her bed.
Finally, she lifted her head once more and examined the rolled up sleeves on her arms.
Even if the room was empty, his warmth still somewhat remained in the fabric of the shirt.
She gazed back towards the book from earlier.
A drowsiness grew within her, summoning a small yawn.
She contemplated for some moments on whether she would go to sleep or read.
In truth, she had all the time in the world, crammed in the little room.
All the time in the world.
Did she really?
Likely not.
She ultimately decided it was now or never and pulled the book back into her lap before opening the heavy cover.
She was surprised to be met with the face of the first chapter immediately, instead of the usual introduction, table of contents, and copyright.
She read the name of the first chapter aloud,
"Like lightning from heaven..."
Something felt off about the book.
Perhaps the font, her recovering state, or a mixture of both.
Nonetheless, it felt strangely taboo to read.
A bead of awkward sweat rolled down her forehead.
She quickly reached to the desk on the opposing side of her bed, lightly pulling the string of a small lamp to turn it on.
She was lightly embarrassed by her need for light in the moment.
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, no one was there.
She coughed into a fist as she brushed off the rest of the slight unease she felt.
` Third time's the charm, right? `
She began reading once more.
Some time had passed as she had begun reading again.
She set the book back in her lap, taking a light break for a moment.
Maria wasn't entirely sure how to feel about what she had just read.
The quality wasn't at question. To her, the book had definitely lived up to the hype.
However, it was nothing like how she imagined. Nothing like how others had described it.
Here and there, she had stumbled upon written reviews of the title.
Some of which held short summaries of it.
That's what was throwing her off.
Those summaries were nothing like what she was truly reading.
As if the copy she held was special in some way.