There's something weirdly humiliating about being wheeled around when she doesn't feel like she needs to be - but they have a thing in hospitals about taking you out in a wheelchair regardless. It adds insult to it too, because the doctors are amazed at how... fine she is. She remembers so little about the crash that its infuriating, but the things she told the police and doctors were dismissed.
'You said a what pulled you out of the car?'
'Sometimes, when we experience trauma, it can affect even our dreams, and you were unconscious when they found you.'
'There's definitely scarring hon but it's nothing you haven't had for years, just from looking at it - you didn't even crack a molar in that wreck, it's honestly a miracle.'
She's sitting in Morgan's car now, staring dead straight into the dashboard. Her phone's dead - she'll have to charge it.
When Morgan opens the door to get in, it startles her, and she exhales sharply; for somebody who spent much of the last 24 hours in and out of consciousness she doesn't seem rested, practically able to feel the weight of the bags under her eyes - scars that are new to her but the doctors claim have to be years old painting a faint stripe across the bridge of her nose and along her left cheek. "Sorry. I'm... really exhausted... thanks again for coming... I... I really appreciate it." She's trying really hard not to cry, but anyone with ears can hear the threat of it in her voice's tremble - she just doesn't know which part to cry about.
