Realizing you are in the real world after waking from a nightmare is much easier for me due to the simple fact that in my nightmares I have my eyes and arm back. Going back to my normal is kinda like a parting kick in the teeth as my brain remembers how to see through my little spheres.

I hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about what I lost from choosing the horns and tail over eyes, which, to be fair, was an opportunity cost, not a real trade; I was already blind from my first big Breach fuck-up. However, logical appeals to myself only go so far since I know how I’m manipulating arguments and leaving out consequences to make things sound better. And not being able to see the supposedly beautiful sunset from my window only cements the feeling of isolation and endless weakness from my recovery.

After only a few hours of endless scrolling on my second day of sitting in the hospital, I broke and asked Cleo, “any way to speed up my recovery?”

Omnipresent and cat-like as always, they appeared curled up inside the small circle my crossed legs made. Actually getting to a comfortable sitting position had taken a lot of effort and some help from my tail to pull my legs into place.

{Quite a few.} They said unhelpfully. {Do you have any more insights to help narrow down the parameters? Your physique as an MG already is helping the process along quite a bit. Most people would still be unable to move at this point.}

Ignoring the comparison and sighing in exasperation, I explained, “I guess getting something that will give me an instant or at least a quantifiable timetable until I can get out of here would be nice. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I don’t find it easy to sit still. So I guess a ‘become at least as strong as a normal person’ perk would be what I’m looking for.”

Briefly becoming completely motionless, they replied, {as always there are many different perks to do that. The real question is if you would find any benefit from them at any other point. While I think that some superfluous perks are acceptable or even valuable, spending experience to get out of the hospital slightly faster doesn’t strike me as a good use of resources.}

Letting my head rest heavily on the bed’s backboard, I acquiesced, “fine. In that case, are there any perks that would let me be harder to injure, recover faster, I guess be stronger, faster, whatever. Maybe make it so its not fancy suicide to try and use my catalytic magic to speed up the healing process?” With a flash of sadistic satisfaction, I interrupted Cleo’s forming response. “oh! With how generally vindictive I’m feeling, maybe something that would let me steal healthiness from the Sunshine and Rainbows Collective distracting me from my brooding by singing outside?”

Not dignifying me with a verbal response, Cleo teleported beside my head and swatted my nose with a paw.

“Fine, fine. I get that’s too far, but the idea stands until I at least hear how it's possible- because I know it is.”

With an overdramatic and obviously faked sigh, they stated, {let’s call your doctor, and when he gets here we’ll discuss this topic with him. For being mostly human, he is an expert on the… phenotypic alterations MGs can undergo. Here’s their email- and while we wait on that you should call your friends to alleviate your boredom.}

“Slight issue: I don’t have the program to send them a message and don’t know any other method of communicating with them besides my phone- which I don’t have access to on account of not having pockets with which to activate my storage perk.”

The atypical but heartening behavior from Cleo continued as they very slowly turned to look me in the eyes with the most exasperated look a cat is capable of. Stifling a laugh with a sigh, I flicked my tail over to the call button and asked, “can someone please bring my clothes up to me? I need something I left in a pocket.”

While I waited for my request to be fulfilled, I mocked up a quick email to the MG acting as my doctor- who somehow acquired ‘[email protected].’ I essentially repeated the concerns I had discussed with Cleo and the Semiseelie’s opinion on my ideas, except in more polite and formal language. Given the non-existent amount of information I knew about the MG in question, I was surprised to see a response only a few minutes later.

The message itself was equally surprising:

“Nice to hear from you. Putting you back together was a real pain in the ass- maybe limit the unique ways of killing yourself to one or two next time. I have to say: from your file, you’re truly a savant of getting things done in the worst fucking way imaginable for yourself. Anyway, I’ll pop in tomorrow. Our ‘supervisory organization’ has me doing general screenings for all the staff which is monotonous as shit. Try not to make me need to come deal with you earlier!”

While I was reading through that, a nurse came to check on me and deliver my personal items. They had started to apologize for the hospital having lost anything that might have been in the pockets before stopping as I pulled my phone out of one that clearly had nothing in it.

“Tada?” I offered to them, seeing them trying to figure out what had happened.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Right, magic,” I heard them mutter before asking, “anything else you need?”

After a quick mental inventory and request from my stomach, I replied, “some more water and maybe some food as well? Did Mircaleworker say anything about not eating?”

“He didn’t mention anything about that- or really anything for that matter. Never does. Give us a few minutes.”

True to their word, after a handful of minutes, the nurse came back with a warm bowl of oatmeal and said, “here you go. You also have a visitor- do you want me to let them in?”

Stalling my answer by taking a bite of monotonous sludge, I quickly scanned the reception area. To my surprise, it wasn’t any of the MGs or an investigator-y looking person, but the handler we worked with during the Breach. When I finished chewing, I unenthusiastically offered, “sure… Not anyone I would have expected to be the first to visit me, but I’ll chat if they want. Just give me a few to finish this if it isn’t too much trouble.”

After shoveling down the oatmeal and not throwing it back up, I handed off the bowl and watched as the handler perked up from something the receptionist said. Now that I was giving them more of my attention, I noticed their eyes were a little puffy and red- like they had been crying recently. Concerningly, I also noticed that they were shaking slightly and hesitating at every intersection.

When they reached the door to my room, it took them five attempts to work up the courage to knock. Under normal conditions, I would have called them in before they did so, but I wasn’t interested in picking on some who I both barely knew and could tell was not having a great day.

When they opened the door and saw me, their hand moved to their purse before clenching hard enough to dig their nails into their palm. A quick look revealed that in said purse were two items it would have made sense for them to be thinking about grabbing: some tissues or a large kitchen knife.

Clearly trying to sound more put together than they looked, the handler got out, “hello Silvia.”

In a neutral voice, I simply offered, “hello.”

“...Are you feeling better?”

“Not dead, but a little bored.”

My concern continued to grow as they appeared to struggle not to look at me, “that’s good, that’s good. Has anyone else come to see you yet?”

“Nope. I was going to send the group a message that I was up, though.”

“They would like that.”

“...”

“...”

Clearing my throat, I broke the awkward silence, “I probably should have asked sooner than this, but I don’t think I’ve ever caught your name.”

“Ah. My name is Ferris.”

Something about the name seemed familiar. I could rule out anyone I knew through my parents- I made a point to not remember those leacher’s names. Similarly, I was fairly sure I hadn’t met anyone else with that name at my college or previous hospital. That pretty much left SEYA, but I don’t know where their name would have come up since I had only really interacted with administrative people and not the handlers.

Realization suddenly struck me as my exploration of the campus’ building came to mind. I vaguely remembered finding a document mentioning handlers while I was poking around, but the specifics of what it was about evaded me.

Now much more interested in what was going on, I tried to open them up with a friendly approach, “that’s nice. Are you doing alright?”

At my question, they froze before coughing a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little bit of insomnia and stress.”

“Sorry if it’s rude, but can you tell me why you wanted to visit.”

Once again they froze, but this time, tears started welling up in their eyes. As they tried to say something, flinched and grabbed their head, letting out a gasp of pain. In a low voice, they muttered, “no, no, no, no, I’m so sorry, I don’t want to, no, no, no,” over and over and inhumanly fast.

Thoroughly disturbed, I started weakly reaching for the call button beside my bed. Before I could get close, their head snapped up, eyes now vacant and crying blood. As they stood up from the chair they had collapsed in as they came in, a hand once again grabbed for the knife from their purse.

Unlike with the demons in Breaches, I didn’t feel anxious or stressed seeing the dangerous position I was in. A wave of too-familiar coldness washed over me, just like it always did before I did something utterly irredeemable. Unlike with demons, the delicate and vital parts of humans were well understood. Motions smooth and controlled, I lashed out with my tail, stabbing through Ferris’ left eye. As the gooey orb was obliterated, the fluid edge of the tail’s tip scraped tissue out of the small hole in the back of the socket and hooked on.

Instinctual reactions to pain still functioning despite their current state, my handler dropped the knife and started reaching up to grab my tail. They never made it.

With strength I didn’t know I had, my remaining hand caught the knife mere inches from where it had been dropped as I pulled hard with my tail. Ferris started tipping forwards, leaning over my bed and I shoved the knife up, getting under their ribcage with enough force that the lower cartilage broke when my wrist smashed into it.

The force of the blow carried my handler over the bed and onto the floor on the other side- where they lay dead. Emotional mind catching up to fighting instincts, I suddenly found the air lacking any oxygen. As my breathing sped up, my perception started to flicker in and out. Something hot and acrid found its way into my mouth and onto the blanket, but all I could think about was how what just happened eerily mirrored what was now the previous worst day of my life.