الحركة بركة (Al harakat barakat - Movement is a blessing)
Content Warning. Please see this post for the advisory information.
Part 2
2400
“You need to be more careful, Ayesha,” said the Cardassian doctor as he waved a dermal regenerator over Ayesha’s damaged hand. “Acid is dangerous, and you really should have been wearing gloves when handling them. I will have to complain to Professor Irmoness, he is…”
“No!” Ayesha said quickly. “No, you don’t need to complain, it was my own fault,”
The doctor scrutinised Ayesha carefully. “You will need to rest this hand for a few hours. I am going to put a bandage on it, you may take it off when you get home tonight. Do not do anything to worsen the wound,” he advised.
“Thank you doctor, I won’t,” Ayesha said as the doctor wrapped a bandage around her hand, wincing slightly, not just at the pain, but at the physical contact. When he had finished, Ayesha quickly withdrew her hand away. “Are you going to report this?”
“I will have to tell your father,”
“Do you have to? It’s fine, it was nothing,” Ayesha pleaded.
“Yes, I do. I will explain that it was an accident,”
Ayesha huffed but didn’t offer a retort. “Thank you, doctor,” she muttered and left the office without a backwards glance. The Trill was waiting for her outside.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” Ayesha said, but it was a lie… even though the burns had healed, the emotional ache was still raging inside her as her thoughts replayed the moment the Bolian spat at her at the end of the chemistry class. Ayesha had fought back tears then, but now the pain and hurt she felt had morphed into anger.
“What did you say?” the Trill asked.
“I said it was an accident,” Ayesha says.
“I see,” the Trill replied, quietly. “Listen, we can’t just keep ignoring it. We need to…”
“Do what?” Ayesha rounded on the Trill. “Report them? Why don’t you try doing that, instead of complaining about your stupid freckles,” she said and stormed off down the corridor, leaving the Trill hurt and shocked in the corridor.
2421
Ayesha paced across the stone floor of her room on Risa. She was restless. The nervous energy that she got from earlier had not yet abated, and her mind was racing. She had everything to try to calm herself down but nothing worked. She tried to focus her thinking, but she found herself chasing phantom memories that disappeared like smoke when she tried to catch them. She tried to steady her breathing, but every breath felt painful yet necessary. Blotched canvasses littered the room, as she had attempted to put her mind at ease by drawing, but her body was shaking too much and she had quickly given into frustration.
Desperation turned to panic and Ayesha felt the familiar pangs of anxiety rise from her core and over her extremities. She turned to her hypo, sloppily injecting herself, before half running out of the room that she was so sure was closing in around her.
It was hours before Ayesha returned from her walk. By this time, her feet had swollen massively, her muscles had long since given up screaming in tiredness, and her throat was dry to the point of hoarseness. Ayesha cared little. Her energy had finally run out. She flopped onto the bed and was glad that her brain was too tired to replay any more memories that night.