“–Can’t believe that she–”

“I’m not sure what will–”

“Guys, can’t we just–”

            Bette could hear voices, between periods of nothingness, fading in and out. Kit’s, Alice’s, others’. Sometimes female, sometimes not, always accompanied by a muted, pulsing beep and the quiet whoosh of something she couldn’t figure out before the darkness swallowed her again; she would fall into another dreamless black space before she could piece together the words. 

*****

            “What, now?  What makes you think she’s gonna do anything to help now?”

            That was Kit.  Bette tried to open her eyes and speak. “Nnngg…”  This attempt took great effort.  The darkness didn’t abate, but Bette felt the slight exhalation in the back of her throat, the faint sound faltering, then falling silent.  She tried again. She couldn’t decipher it from the regular bleeping and whooshes, the sounds Bette had become accustomed to hearing off and on. 

            “Hey, Kit,” a halting voice paused.  This was unmistakably Alice. “I think Bette’s maybe waking–”

            “Shhh!” 

            All fell silent.   Then, haltingly, “Bette?”  This was Kit.      

            Bette tried to answer again. “Nnnngkuh.”

“I’m gonna get the nurse,” a voice said. Not Kit, not Alice.  A rustling followed, then footsteps.

“Hey, Bette?  Can you hear me?” Alice again.

Bette’s eyelids felt as if they were leaden.  She rolled her eyes back, attempting to lift their lids with them.  A dull white color filled her vision.  Black corners with green blurring lines came into focus, along with bright spots. She fought hard to open her eyes, as heavy as her lids were, despite the blinding brightness.  She squinted and blinked hard, repeatedly, trying to make out the shapes before her. Kit and Alice came into focus after several long moments. 

“Rrrsanngkuh?”  To her own ears, it sounded like gibberish.  Bette’s eyes flitted about the room, taking in its clinical sparsity, its empty drabness.  Her gaze settled on the face nearest her own – Kit’s – and she tried repeating what she’d already asked more than once. “Where…?  Angelica?”

She saw Kit lick her lips and look away before her sister’s eyes met her own.  “Angelica’s fine, baby girl.  You just rest until the doctor gets here, okay?”

Bette felt and saw the feathery touch of Kit’s hand against her scalp, light strokes that threatened to take her back into the seductive darkness that she’d been inhabiting.

“ ‘Kay.” Bette breathed slowly, lulled by the monitors’ beeps. She wanted to sleep again, but a niggling feeling kept her from attaining it. “Ttt-uh?” Bette frowned, trying to both focus on Kit and to articulate.  “Tiiina?”  She pushed this out with what felt like the last of her strength. 

“It’s fine, baby girl, it’s fine.” 

These words followed her into sleep.

(TBC)