we are all broken
It’s the best sleep Finn has had in longer than he can remember. And he can’t really remember much, in the sea of sedatives upon which he bobs and drifts. The drugs take away his dreams, putting a firm barrier between his subconscious and the teeth that want to sink into it, releasing him only enough to let his eyes flicker and peep open. The smell of the room is comfortingly sterile, though the glare off the white walls makes him squint.
Finn is clean and warm, in a hospital gown and tucked into a bed much smaller than the one he’s used to being in. Luckily, he has neither the energy nor the inclination to go thrashing about; blinking up at the ceiling through glazed eyes, shifting marginally to try and get his bearings. There’s something wrong with his hand, the Spyglass feeling like he should wriggle his fingers, but everything feels too heavy.
Finn is clean and warm, in a hospital gown and tucked into a bed much smaller than the one he’s used to being in. Luckily, he has neither the energy nor the inclination to go thrashing about; blinking up at the ceiling through glazed eyes, shifting marginally to try and get his bearings. There’s something wrong with his hand, the Spyglass feeling like he should wriggle his fingers, but everything feels too heavy.
that’s how the light gets in
