worthwhile

Hands at her sides, she pauses, momentarily. Why was she going through with this again? Deep in thought, she supposed there was something gratifying in being thoughtful. She couldn’t help it- it was in the truly that kind nature of her disposition that gripped her, made that sympathetic nature hard to ignore-- it was like her make sure anyone wounded in her heroic endeavors healed well. It happened- there were plenty of malicious people in the world who wounded others for reasons she wouldn't understand (or she did, just didn't like them all too much). Though Kora was adept at stopping these people before they went too far, control could slip out of her hands, and some got hurt. Not that she would resign herself to that fate— if she could do anything about it, it wouldn’t be a reality she had to face. But it was.

What she wasn’t ready for, however, was to be stood out in front of a hospital. Through the excruciating years of bundling her deepest insecurities up, it wasn’t hard to put on a smile when she didn't mean it. But the nervousness of setting foot into a place she despised was enough to make her bandaged hands clammy, made her painfully aware and nervous for the inevitability of being surrounded by what she truly despised.

But part of her had to do this. She knew what the person was going through- knew the experience was made all the better, seeing someone you trusted. She had to do it.

So, with a subtly aggrieved smile (more of a grimace, really), Kora steps inside the hospital, already overtaken with a bone-numbing anxiety. There was always something she loathed about the very nature of hospitals. Even the waiting room had a miserable air to it. It was an environment that screamed misery; nothing about its stark, white walls or bright, fluorescent lights made her feel welcome. Kora shivers. Her feet seemed to be glued in place, paralyzed by fear. But she knew where she had to go— it made the ordeal a little easier.

Just a little.

She tried hard not to pay too much attention to the details. The more she thought about where she was, the more it would thoroughly and absolutely freak her out. With haste, she steps to the two, white doors, pushing them open to enter the labyrinth-like halls of the hospital halls.

The room she needed to get to was a few floors up, all she had to do was get to the elevator. So she made that her goal, for now— despite her cheery, friendly nature, talking to anyone else seemed to be her opposite intent. She just wanted to get to where she needed to be as quickly as possible. As she pushed the doors open, her conscience yelled for her to make a run for it- to bolt to the elevator as quickly as possible and be right out the entrance like she wasn’t there, but she found herself walking slowly. Thoughtfully- the one thing she shouldn't be doing.

Keeping her eyes on her feet, she figured that looking around would make her more nervous, but it smothered her even when she wasn't looking. There was something she simply abhorred about the hurry of the hospital scene; the artificial, stark lighting or the suffocating white walls- everything seemed to stack together into an overwhelming cluster of anxieties.

Swallowing the lump down her throat, she exhales sharply. The elevator was only a few steps ahead. Making sure not to take too much of her surroundings in, she presses the button lightly, facing towards the elevator.

Moments turned to hours, and after what seemed like forever, the doors opened silently. She was quick to get in. The doors close behind her. She leans against them, sighing a triumphant breath of relief- it was nice, at least for a moment, to have a break from that. Doubly so, she was alone; for once, she didn’t feel judgmental eyes piercing through her insecurities. Even if it was for only a second, she could let her fears go.

Until the white noise of the elevator making its ascent stopped, and it’s back to the glaring hospital halls. It brought Kora some comfort, anyway, in knowing that she was almost there, but her expression still curled into a miserable scowl. So, quickly, she steps out- looking left and right, down the seemingly empty halls. Some of the sterile, contrived aura was taken away from the hospital on this floor-- large windows pitted against the walls let natural sunlight flutter against the tiled floors. With that, too, she wryly appreciated the fact there were fewer people on this floor. Clenching her fist to her side, she exhales.

Turning down the hall, Kora keeps a close eye on the room numbers. She mumbled her destination's number under her breath. Even if it was just for a little, the repetition took her mind off where she was. She muttered it, again and again, until she found herself in front of the door. Trying to hide her excitement to be out of the hospital halls, she opens the door with care in mind, but almost can't conceal her glee.

And immediately, she's greeted to a much more quiet environment. More sunlight flickers through open blinds, and it gives a much more natural feel to the room. The only noise in the room is soft breathing, albeit, primarily overlapped by the monotonous beep of a heart monitor. Kora turns to the hospital bed, looking down with soft eyes to the person she rescued. They must have been no older than a teenager. Around her age, it seemed. The weariness they exhibited, the bandaged limbs, brought Kora a painful sympathy, akin to seeing a friend hurt, not someone younger than her; never someone beneath her.

“Thank you for coming.” Is all they can seem to muster. Their voice seems strained, but the gratuity lies in their voice, the beaming smile on their lips, the way they excitedly turned to her like they were the one thing they were looking forward to. Their happiness, it was infectious- Kora can’t help but smile, too.

Perhaps that made it all worthwhile.