From the Inside

Incandescent light fills the room. She awakens from a deep slumber. A thick haze fogs her thoughts and blurs her vision. It hurts to move - even one muscle. She writhes in pain on a cold, stiff mattress dressed in crisp ivory sheets. They don't offer the same warmth and comfort of the ones that lie limp, lonely, and desolate on her own bed, hundreds of miles away.
Her hands shake and she does not know why. She wills them to stop, but hey are disobedient. Her tremors worsen as they spread throughout her enervated body. The steel bed posts begin to rattle and before she knows it, the ground is shaking.
She has single-handedly created an earthquake.
The piercing cries of nurses and doctors seem so distant. She is oddly filled with insouciance as she has always loved the rhythmic movement of the sand between her toes as she clenched and unclenched her muscles. Though is made her most vulnerable, she has always appreciated her lack of control and responsibility of the earth's workings.
So she does not find the placid smile that spans her face out of the ordinary, though the frantic nurse attending to her feels much differently.
"Stop dreaming, Girl, and get up. Wipe that devious smirk off your little face and those evil convictions our of your little head!"
She lay still and silent, wrapped tightly in her paper-thin coverings.
"Move it! This is not a drill!"
Her eyes flutter open as though she has all the time in the world and defiantly she utters, 'Not until they come back."