PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESS

You wake up. Your head's pounding and you can feel a burning sensation down your stitching. Everything seemed to hit you as you came awake and now you feel absolutely terrible. You've been worse, you suppose. There's nothing around your ears or underneath your nose like there should be. Your tubes must have come off while you were asleep. Mama's over there, sleeping on the couch. [[Wake mama up.]] [[You're too tired to do anything about yourself.]]

You're too tired to actually form anything coherent with your mouth so you just yell as loud as you can to wake mama. You're not very loud, frankly. Mama eventually starts to get up. She's always eager to tend to you and you can't help but squirm in anticipation when she approaches. Hi, Al, she says in her tiny little voice as she covers you over again with your blankets, rubs some Neosporin on your stitching, puts your tubes back on. When the tubes are back around your nose you start feeling a bit better. You've always liked your tubes, even though they look funny. Now that you're better situated, you realize that you feel a bit hungry. [[Ask mama for pancakes.]] [[Go back to sleep.|okay sleep]]

You ask your mama for pancakes. Oh, sweetie, it's still nighttime, she coos to you, reaching to rub the side of your head. You want pancakes now? Try to go back to bed, okay? She heads toward the kitchen to turn on the stove anyways. You lay there groggily on your air mattress, listening to your mama as she cooks. She wanted you to go back to bed, and you suppose that sleeping feels good and subsequently would like to go to bed, too. You find yourself too riled up over your impending meal to fall asleep at this point. You end up waiting longer than premeditated, though, and you're beginning to fall asleep again by the time mama brings you out your pancakes. Sit up, sweetie, she tells you, so you pull yourself up the best you can. [[Dig in!]]

It takes a minute or two for your crutches to cooperate. Once you've made it to your feet, you adjust your sweater and dig at an itchy spot on your chin. Mama's left you a note on the coffee table: <img src="http://i.imgur.com/s42QSMr.png" height="155" width="300" /> You'd like to get something to eat and relax a little, now that you've got the couch to yourself. [[Grab your leftovers.]] [[Watch some television.]]

You feel around the side of the mattress for your bottle of Advil. Opening it poses a chore in your current state, and once you get the top off half of its contents fall out on your face. Only one of the pills ends up going in your mouth, though, because mama's told you countless times before that you'd get really, really sick if you ever ate more than one at a time. You put all the pills back in the bottle, adjust your tubes and lay there for a bit, letting the pill do whatever it needs to do. Soon enough, you feel mostly better. [[You should get up and start your day.|get up]]

You hobble your way over to the couch, lay down and drop your crutches to the floor. The couch has always been terribly comfy to you; you wish you could sleep on it rather than the dinky little mattress you've got set up, but mama's afraid that you might roll off in your sleep. Pulling some of mama's blankets over yourself, you get cozy and start to watch TV for a little bit. The volume's too low for you to follow most of what's going on, but it looks like some sort of show about people going in and out of houses. You quickly find yourself bored. What else is there for you to do?

Your mama's pancakes are soft and buttery and feel rather nice on your sensitive throat, just as they always do. Mama pulls herself from her wheelchair to sit beside you while you eat. After a few minutes, mama gets back into her wheelchair and goes to turn off the lights. She tells you to put the plate on the coffee table when you're done and that she's going to bed and that she loves you very, very much. You continue to eat your pancakes in the darkness as your mama drifts to sleep. By the time you're finished, you've gotten full and you feel satisfied and tired. [[You think you're ready to go back to bed.|good sleep]]

You wake up a few hours later to the low buzz of the TV. Mama always turns the TV on before leaving for work, so you know she's most likely left by now. Your belly's full of pancakes and you feel fairly at ease. You allow yourself to lay there for a little while longer, drifting in and out of sleep. [[You should get up soon.|get up]]

You wake up a few hours later. The first thing you hear is the low buzz of the voices on TV - having left the television on, mama's gone and left for work. You'll be alone for the rest of the day, you suppose, just like every other day (except for the days when Aydin and Zach come to visit, of course). You figure you could be in mama's place and leave every day instead to go to a job you hate, so you don't ever complain. [[You should get up.|get up]]

When you wake up a couple hours later, you only feel worse. Your migraine's returned with a vengeance and your vision's fuzzy and dark around the edges. Trying to roll onto your back makes the dull ache in your stitching flare to a pain, and you start to get dizzy. At least you can feel your tubes - mama must have put them back on for you. You can hear the buzz of the TV, and that means mama's left for work. She won't be back to help you until much later. [[You have that bottle of painkillers next to your bed, don't you?]]

When you wake up, you hear that the TV's turned on so you know that mama's left for work. You turn yourself over and watch that for a little. It's some sort of show about people going in and out of houses. You quickly find yourself bored. It takes you a few minutes to stand up with your crutches, but you suppose it's alright; it's not like you're in a rush to be anywhere. You see that mama's left you a note on the coffee table: http://i.imgur.com/s42QSMr.png