|Time can heal many wounds
||[Jul. 11th, 2009|10:23 pm]
She fell apart slowly.
He imagined it in a macabre fashion, arms separating from the shoulders leaving no blood or mess behind only scar tissue, the hands and wrists already lifeless on the floor. The feet, the knees and finally the hips. The scar tissue was pink, newly healed skin, but a mass of creases. The last blow was the head, but without the head nothing can function, the head controls the heart, and so the blood oozed slowly out of her neck, as her heart pumped the body to death.
She didn't realise it happened. It didn't in real life. It was just a metaphor, a metaphor that he used to explain what he could see happening. To resuscitate her he cut the scar tissue off and reconnected the veins, arteries and nerves, allowing the feeling to return first to her head. Her head and heart needed to work together.
He forgot, or maybe he didn't, maybe she forgot, to connect the nerves from the heart to the head, and he was slow in connecting the arteries that gave blood to the more emotional parts of the brain. It wasn't fatal the brain damage, but some of the nerve endings connected there never completely regained their previous strength.
She didn't know when she stopped being numb, how or who stitched her back together, but she knew it was baby steps. Sometimes the numbness returned and he could see the stitches dissolving from the skin, the blood seeping out where there was a joint. However, this happened less and less.
Khronos watching this, smiled, as the seconds slowly healed the stitches inexpertly applied by her own subconsciousness, with his help.