Stubborn and determined are negative and positive ways to describe the same thing. Right now, it wouldn't be wrong to say that my heart argues with my heart every fucking time it wants to beat. Magic happens when you don't give up even when you want to- that is probably why the universe falls in love with stubborn hearts.

I drive with a single hand as I press another hand to my forehead, to pause the bleeding temporarily- not the best idea, but that'll have to do. Checking out the nearest hospitals with Siri, I speed away to CareMark, albeit one of the most expensive hospitals around- but fuck money, I need to be alive and well, first of all.

The blood has seeped into the sleeves of my t-shirt, I'm relieved momentarily because my shirt isn't outrageously white to flash the red, although blood has the richest shade of red- one I'd not get tired of staring at. Very satisfying, albeit weirdly sadistic.

I'm aware of people looking at me as I try to blend with the pace of the highways, with blood streaming down the left side of my face and smashed front glass in a sleek Porsche Panamera. Absolutely not the best state when you want to be left alone, undisturbed and ignored.

I park so fast, it's almost ungodly. Dashing out of the car, I walk into the hospital, the familiar smell enveloping me. One of the receptionists immediately helps me, placing a hand at my waist and hushing me into one of the elevators before using a wireless earbud to communicate over what seems to be the emergency handling departments. I can no longer keep a track of what's happening- the unconsciousness is rapidly taking over my head as I try to see straight. With one step backwards I crumple like a puppet suddenly released from their strings. It felt like my innards were being replaced by some kind of black hole. Then nausea crept from my abdomen to his head and the world went black.

The car rams into the back of my car. The noise is a sort of fabric that weaves into the matter of this place, into my matter too, they get into my soul and become part of me.

Victory, I hear my inner vixen whispering.

Yet, I wait for the moment to pass, it doesn't- as if it's happening on loop now, pushing to notice everything minutely as it happens so slowly that it is actually unlikely to be happening. I see the glass splintering into a thousand little shards, each minute and slow- I'm almost afraid they'll slash my skin- but as usual, they don't. I feel the ramming into my skull over a long span of time as compared to when it actually happened- yet my reaction doesn't change. It's as if I'm sitting in the passenger seat of my car, watching it happen over and over again.

I watch the black, prim car pass me by as it speeds down, but this time, much slower.

Then it clicks.

I've seen the car before. And judging by the brand and model- it was a limited edition piece- one only the richest of rich could afford, and the coincidence is very unlikely.

I'm very sure I've seen the car somewhere else.

I just can't remember when.

I hold my head in my hands, pressing my head with my hands in exasperation over trying to remember where I'd seen it. My eyes hurt as the same scene repeats in my head, hammering over and over again. That is when the blood takes over, my eyes zooming in over the blood gushing out of my forehead, darkening as it comes closer than ever. It becomes a void of blankness and blackness as I feel slammed back into my own headspace, a myriad of colors and patterns running in my mind as usual.

I open my eyes with a jerk.

The fuck.

The nurse rushes over to me with a glass of water and asks me to lay down once I've drunk the water. I lean against the wall as I ignore her repeated exasperated requests to lay down. I notice the units of blood attached to my wrist and then touch my forehead with the other hand. Bandages.

The ache is dull, as if some lazy torturer is standing right behind me, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance. It sits there, just to the side of my forehead, slowly coursing through a certain nerve that connects the right side of my neck, the top of my right eye and my right ear.

"I suppose the payments and bills haven't been taken care of." I say slowly, feeling the pain in my teeth and gums.

"Yes ma'am," she says softly and I show her my hand. Hesitantly, she places the tablet in my hands. I run an eye over the screen and fill in the patient credentials, finishing it fast with an online payment. My head turns when I hear the door opening.

To my utter disappointment, it's just a doctor.

What was I expecting? Who was I expecting?

The thought is quickly pushed into the back of my mind as I lend an ear to the doctor talking to the nurse about my vitals and stuff. He then turns to me. "Is there someone with-"

"No," I reply curtly, "It'll just be me," I shrug. He looks hesitant before he takes a seat on the stool. To be honest, he's not that bad to look at. Actually, it's just my standard bar that is so high- in all reality, he might be eye candy to the nurse.

"A violent blow to your head and neck or upper body caused your brain to slide back and forth forcefully against the inner walls of your skull, a brief explanation of what we'd categorize as a mild concussion," he says and points to my forehead, "And that was caused by what seems is an accident."

"Yeah," I lie through my teeth, but then, I've always been good at lying when I have a definite goal in my mind. It makes me feel awkward even though it might seem different. "I was trying to park my car."

Not the best excuse, but it'll have to do.

"How do you feel?" He asks again. I graze my fingers against the bandages, "Just slightly dizzy, and I guess, the headache is a pain in the ass," I mutter, "And something weird in my eyes. Probably a double vision," I perk up, " Result from damage to the muscles and/or nerves around the eye. This stems from what is known as convergence insufficiency; in effect, the alignment of the eyes diverge when trying to focus on nearby objects," I nod as he smiles again brightly in acknowledgement.

"Of course," he smiles with a sad tone to it, "Bianca, acetaminophen for pain relief- use it for two days until the MRI scan results come through. Though complete rest is important, you can assist Miss-" he takes a look at the tab, "Crimson. You can assist Miss Crimson around the hospital for some brief walking. Don't you worry, Miss Crimson," he smiles again, "You'll be fit in no more than a week, at most. The concussion is mild, but the upcoming seven days are critical and you should take proper care. I'll mail the prescription to you, Bianca," he points at the tiny young woman next to me, "I'll get going now. Rest well, Miss Crimson."

I nod my head slightly and my concentration waning, as pain courses mildly through the sides of my head as I try to think about it. In the next few hours, Bianca assists me with various things and keeps reminding me not to think too much so as to not stress the brain, but have I ever even listened to people?

The next morning, I ask Bianca if we can take a walk through the corridors or something- she agrees. I flex my legs slightly and then walk with her, into the elevator. We get some fresh air outside the hospital as well- Bianca is a nice woman. She even gets me a strawberry smoothie despite my groans of argument against it. As I toss the empty smoothie cup, we enter the hospital again, and I look at my car one last time, before entering the reception. Bianca offers me a seat at the waiting section, and rushes off to get my meds. I look around, when my eyes get caught on a conversation that is likely to turn into an argument.

I inch closer towards the payment desk, where a crowd soon gathers, as I see a man carrying a small girl who can't be older than five. The noise is almost disturbing now, but I stand, curious about the situation.

"What?!" The man yells, almost stuck between angst and desperation. "I just- just paid like you'd told me to," he's almost on the verge of tears- no, he's crying.

"Sorry sir, but that is the hospital protocol," one of them clasps his hands and looks at him blankly, "There are people who create disturbance and refuse to pay the bills."

"But," he chokes on his words and I feel the little hairs on the back of my neck stand, "I have a child- she's only three," he chokes on his words again and gasps, "Yet you- you wouldn't relay it to me when my wife died yesterday."

Angst flows through my veins as I watch on, feeling an extraordinary burn rage in me. There are selfish pricks in this world that seek to render you into hell's version of sleeping beauty. Waking up is hard to do.

"It's the procedure and we are all supposed to abide by it." The employee says without a hint of emotion, and it's almost impossible to suppress the fervent desire to punch his face. I stare on, as drops of tears come out of the man's eyes. In dire indignation, he pulls out a wad of bills and throws them at the employee's face.

"You're all motherfucking bastards," he screams, "Have it. HAVE ALL OF IT, but," he sobs, "Will you ever be able to return my wife to me? Will you ever be able to return the mother to my child!?" He shouts, "You're all a bunch of cheats! I paid for the best services, and you will never, ever realize how I feel, you animals," he spits, but I don't blame him at all. Selfish is easy to do. We live in an age that makes a virtue of such vices. Economies depend on it. That's the money-nexus world, indeed.

"We can't let personal feelings come into-"

"Oh, shut your crap," he says, vexed. "What are you, but money hungry pieces of shit?! A bad attitude is like a flat tire, mind you," he points at the employee- the entirety of the employees at the long, polished and luxurious reception cabinets, "YOU CAN'T GO FAR WITHOUT CHANGING IT."

"Leave," the employee who'd been standing says, "Lest the security should be called."

"Oh, I have no desire to be in this god awful place," He spat again, slammed the notes on the table, and left the place with a hush behind him.

I press my lips into a thin line as my hand balls into a fist.

A/N:-

New twist!

Guess if you can. (You can't, they're branded Disha's twists, and are just a thin line behind Isayama (: )

Credits to my friend who helped me with the plot twist cos' I forgot the original one! I should really pen down stuff immediately. And PS, that's the veri guy who inspired the true character of Wolfe.

QOTD: Favorite song?

Mine's always changing. The thing is, I start loving a particular song, hear it on loop for 3 hours, and lose my love for it.

IDK I'm insane that way.

I'm insane all ways actually. ( Nayasha_Jena told me self realization was good!)

That's all for today. Loving the regular updates?

BOOM.

Tenks.

TATA!

Your ever nonsensical, crazy, high authol,
Disha! ✌😎🐤