The wooden door kicked open with a violent bang. The handle smashed into the drywall, leaving a dent.
A nurse in dark blue scrubs marched into the room. Her name tag read Brenda. She breathed heavily through her nose, glaring at the bed.
"You psychotic bitch," Brenda muttered. "You ruined Freddy's perfect night. You make me sick."
Brenda grabbed the edge of Aspen's blanket and yanked it down. Her eyes fell on the fresh blood smeared across the back of Aspen's hand.
Another nurse, younger and out of breath, ran into the doorway. Her name tag read Eleanor.
"Brenda, stop!" Eleanor grabbed Brenda's forearm. "You can't do this. She's a patient. It's against protocol."
Brenda violently shoved Eleanor backward. Eleanor stumbled, her back hitting the doorframe.
"She's a stalker!" Brenda yelled. She raised her right hand high into the air, her palm flat, aiming directly for Aspen's pale cheek.
The slap descended.
Aspen's eyes snapped open.
Despite the agonizing lethargy in her dormant muscles, her left arm shot up like a striking snake. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through her bicep, but she gritted her teeth, ignoring the violent tremor in her limb. Her fingers clamped around Brenda's descending wrist, stopping it dead in mid-air. She couldn't rely on raw strength, so she shifted her weight, using perfect skeletal alignment to absorb the impact.
Brenda gasped. Her eyes widened in shock. She tried to yank her arm back, but Aspen's grip was like a steel vice.
Aspen twisted her wrist outward. She used the precise angle of leverage, pushing Brenda's joint past its natural limit, letting physics do the work her atrophied muscles currently couldn't.
A sickening, wet pop echoed in the small room.
Brenda let out a blood-curdling scream. Her knees buckled instantly, and she crashed to the floor beside the bed.
Aspen engaged her core. She ignored the white-hot, burning weakness in her abdominal muscles and sat up straight, sweat beading on her forehead from the sheer effort of the simple movement.
Her right hand shot out and grabbed the collar of Brenda's scrubs. She jerked the nurse upward, pulling her face inches away. Aspen's left hand released the broken wrist and clamped tightly around Brenda's throat. She pinned the nurse against the metal railing of the bed.
Eleanor slapped both hands over her mouth, frozen in pure terror.
Aspen leaned forward. Her eyes were dead, devoid of any human warmth. She stared into Brenda's panicked, tear-filled eyes.
"The key to your locker," Aspen whispered. Her voice was raspy from disuse, but cold as ice. "Now."
Brenda's face turned a mottled shade of purple. She clawed frantically at the bedsheets, gasping for air that could not pass through her crushed windpipe.
Aspen squeezed her fingers just a fraction tighter. The cartilage in Brenda's throat groaned.
Brenda's eyes rolled back slightly. She weakly pointed a trembling finger toward the right pocket of her scrub pants.
Aspen kept her left hand locked on the throat. She reached down with her right hand, digging into the fabric pocket. Her fingers brushed against cold metal. She pulled out a small brass key.
She looked at the key, then back at Brenda. Aspen opened her left hand and shoved the nurse away like a bag of garbage.
Brenda collapsed onto the linoleum, clutching her throat. She coughed violently, spit and tears running down her chin.
Aspen slowly turned her head. She locked eyes with Eleanor, who was still trembling in the corner.
"If you make a sound before I leave this building," Aspen said, her tone flat, "I will find you."
Eleanor nodded frantically, tears spilling over her cheeks.
Aspen threw the blood-stained blanket aside. She swung her bare feet over the edge of the mattress. Her toes touched the freezing floor.
Her legs shook slightly as she stood up, but she locked her knees. She kept her spine perfectly straight. She walked past the sobbing nurse on the floor, heading directly for the metal lockers in the corner of the room.
