More time passed.<br/><br/>When they’d gotten back to the room, she’d been awake. Aine nearly threw herself at Eilidh when they got back into the room, but Lorcan remained aloof. Even when she’d tried to talk to him, he gave standard answers like, “We’re glad you’re alright,” and, “Just rest.” Nothing like what she’d expected to hear, and no show of comfort from him. Not one inkling of actual caring.<br/><br/>Sometime after she’d fallen asleep, their mother convinced their father to leave with her. They both needed sleep and would be no good to her tired. Though he was reluctant, he wasn’t going to burst her bubble of joy that their daughter had survived a horrific attack.<br/><br/>An attack she’d likely return the favor of on anyone that happened to get in her way.<br/><br/>The entire ride home, he continued to think it through, to go over the signs that<span style="font-style: italic">it</span>had exuded before the questioning started. Then, when he got home, he shooed Aine off to bed and went through his stash, assuring himself that he had what was necessary, including the list of names for those that helped the last go around when the possession had taken hold of their<span style="font-style: italic">son</span>.<br/><br/>His name still held a sour taste in his mouth. Just<span style="font-style: italic">thinking</span>it had the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention. Had his father not forced him to take that thing into his house, his daughter may have been spared. Had he been able to cure him of the hold the demon had on him, then maybe his daughter would have been spared. There were plenty of things that could have kept his daughter from now being possessed, bound, by the demon that had mangled her form before seemingly pulling it back together.<br/><br/>But what ifs wouldn’t do anything for Eilidh now. All he could hope for was that she’d be easier to release than he had been.<br/><br/>At the hospital, her night came and went. Doctors were in and out of her room, checking on wounds that were closing themselves far faster than any patient on record. By midday, the remnants of her internal injuries were nearly gone, no scarring to be had. Arteries had reattached. No clotting, no bruising, nothing to indicate she’d ever been in an accident of any kind. The dressings on her wounds were continually changed out, but they, too, were doing phenomenally better. One was lagging behind the rest, at the base of her neck, but that was the least of their concerns.<br/><br/>A plethora of shots were given to cover any infection she may have gotten from the woods where she was attacked, and an IV was kept in her arm to keep her fluids up. Her mother was far chattier than her father, talking with her, trying to joke and keep her positive while he just stared. By the time they left, E was far happier that he’d left. The way he’d looked at her was awkward and she couldn’t help but feel like he had something to say, even if he hadn’t broached the subjected.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I’m sure he’ll get it out eventually,</span>she thought with a mental sigh, taking up one of the books her mother had brought her to read until she fell asleep; The pair had already left, the day turning to night and her mother fairly dragging her father out.<span style="font-style: italic">But until then…no use worrying about it.</span>